{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_31275/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_31275","id":"gutenberg_31275","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/31275","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christianity -- Controversial literature"],"text":"Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttps://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  LETTERS TO EUGENIA;\n\n  OR,\n\n  A PRESERVATIVE\n  AGAINST RELIGIOUS PREJUDICES.\n\n\n  BY BARON D'HOLBACH,\n  AUTHOR OF THE SYSTEM OF NATURE, THE SOCIAL SYSTEM,\n  GOOD SENSE, CHRISTIANITY UNVEILED, ECCE HOMO,\n  UNIVERSAL MORALITY, RELIGIOUS CRUELTY, &c., &c., &c.\n\n\n  TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH, BY\n  ANTHONY C. MIDDLETON, M. D.\n\n\n                                ... \"Arctis\n  Religionum animos nodis exsolvere pergo.\"\n    LUCRETII _De Rerum Natura_, lib. iv. _v._ 6, 7.\n\n\n  BOSTON:\n  PUBLISHED BY JOSIAH P. MENDUM,\n  AT THE OFFICE OF THE BOSTON INVESTIGATOR.\n  1857.\n\n\n\n\nNAIGEON'S PREFACE.\n\n1768.\n\n\nFor many years this work has been known under the title of _Letters to\nEugenia_. The secretive character of those, however, into whose hands\nthe manuscript at first fell; the singular and yet actual pleasure\nthat is caused generally enough in the minds of all men by the\nexclusive possession of any object whatever; that kind of torpor,\nservitude, and terror in which the tyrannical power of the priests\nthen held all minds--even those who by the superiority of their\ntalents ought naturally to be the least disposed to bend under the\nodious yoke of the clergy,--all these circumstances united contributed\nso much to stifle in its birth, if I may so express myself, this\nimportant manuscript, that for a long time it was supposed to be lost;\nso much did those who possessed it keep it carefully concealed, and so\nconstantly did they refuse to allow a copy to be taken. The\nmanuscripts, indeed, were so scarce, even in the libraries of the\ncurious, that the late M. De Boze, whose pleasure it was to collect\nthe rarest works belonging to every species of literature, could never\nsucceed in acquiring a copy of the _Letters to Eugenia_, and in his\ntime there were only three in Paris; it may have been from design,\n_propter metum Judaeorum_;[1] it may have been there were actually no\nmore known.\n\n[1] _On account of fear of the Jews_, or, in other words, the\nintolerant clergy of the despotic government.\n\nIt is not till within five or six years that MSS. of these letters\nhave become more common; and there is reason to believe that they are\nnow considerably multiplied, since the copy from which this edition is\nprinted has been revised and corrected by collation with six others,\nthat have been collected without any great difficulty. Unhappily, all\nthese copies swarm with faults, which corrupt the sense, and\ncomprehend many variations, but which also, to use the language of the\nBiblical critics, have served sometimes to discover and to fix the\ntrue reading! More often, however, they have rendered it more\nuncertain than it was before what one ought to be followed--a new\nproof of the multiplicity of copies, because the more numerous are the\nmanuscripts of a work, the more they differ from each other, as any\none may be fully convinced by consulting those of the _Letter of\nThrasybulus to Leucippus_, and the various readings of the New\nTestament collected by the learned Mill, and which amount to more than\nthirty thousand.\n\nHowever this may be, we have spared no pains to reestablish the text\nin all its purity; and we venture to say, that, with the exception of\nfour or five passages, which we found corrupted in all the manuscripts\nthat we had an opportunity to collate, and which we have amended to\nthe best of our ability, the edition of these letters that we now\noffer to the reader will probably conform almost exactly with the\noriginal manuscript of the author.\n\nWith regard to the author's name and quality we can offer nothing but\nconjectures. The only particulars of his life upon which there is a\ngeneral agreement are, that he lived upon terms of great intimacy with\nthe Marquis de la Fare, the Abbe de Chaulieu, the Abbe Terrasson,\nFontenelle, M. de Lassere, &c. The late MM. Du Marsais and Falconnet\nhave often been heard to declare that these letters were composed by\nsome one belonging to the school of Seaux. All that we can pronounce\nwith certainty is the fact, that it is only necessary to read the\nwork to be entirely convinced the author was a man of extensive\nknowledge, and one who had meditated profoundly concerning the matters\nupon which he has treated. His style is clear, simple, easy, and in\nwhich we may remark a certain urbanity, that leads us to be sure that\nhe was not an obscure individual, nor one to whom good company and\npolished society were unfamiliar. But what especially distinguishes\nthis work, and which should endear it to all good and virtuous people,\nis the signal honesty which pervades and characterizes it from the\nvery beginning to the end. It is impossible to read it without\nconceiving the highest idea of the author's probity, whoever he may\nhave been--without desiring to have had him for a friend, to have\nlived with him, and, in a word, without rendering justice to the\nrectitude of his intentions, even when we do not approve of his\nsentiments. The love of virtue, universal benevolence, respect to the\nlaws, an inviolable attachment to the duties of morality, and, in\nfine, all that can contribute to render men better, is strongly\nrecommended in these Letters. If, on the one hand, he completely\noverthrows the ruinous edifice of Christianity, it is to erect, on the\nother hand, the immovable foundations of a system of morality\nlegitimately established upon the nature of man, upon his physical\nwants, and upon his social relations--a base infinitely better and\nmore solid than that of religion, because sooner or later the lie is\ndiscovered, rejected, and necessarily drags with it what served to\nsustain it. On the contrary, the truth subsists eternally, and\nconsolidates itself as it grows old: _Opinionum commenta delet dies,\nnaturae judicia confirmat_.[2]\n\n[2] \"Time effaces the comments of opinion, but it confirms the\njudgments of nature.\"--CICERO.\n\nThe motto affixed to many of the manuscript copies of these letters\nproves that the worthy man to whom we owe them did not desire to be\nknown as their author, and that it was neither the love of reputation,\nnor the thirst of glory, nor the ambition of being distinguished by\nbold opinions, which the priests, and the satellites subjected to them\nby ignorance, denominate _impieties_, which guided his pen. It was\nonly the desire of doing good to his fellow-beings by enlightening\nthem, which actuated him, and the wish to uproot, so to speak,\nreligion itself, as being the source of all the woes which have\nafflicted mankind for so many ages. This is the motto of which we\nspoke:--\n\n    \"Si j'ai raison, qu'importe a qui je suis?\"\n      (If reason's mine, no matter who I am.)\n\nIt is a verse of Corneille, whose application is exceedingly\nappropriate, and which should be upon the frontispiece of all books of\nthis nature.\n\nWe are unable to say any thing more certain concerning the person to\nwhom our author has addressed his work. It appears, however, from many\ncircumstances in these Letters, that she was not a supposititious\nmarchioness, like her of the _Worlds_ of M. de Fontenelle, and that\nthey have really been written to a woman as distinguished by her rank\nas by her manners. Perhaps she was a lady of the school of the Temple,\nor of Seaux. But these details, in reality, as well as those which\nconcern the name and the life of our author, the date of his birth,\nthat of his death, &c., are of little importance, and could only serve\nto satisfy the vain curiosity of some idle readers, who avidiously\ncollect these kind of anecdotes, who receive from them a kind of\nexistence in the world, and who feel more satisfaction from being\ninstructed in them than from the discovery of a truth. I know that\nthey endeavor to justify their curiosity by saying that when a person\nreads a book which creates a public sensation, and with which he is\nhimself much pleased, it is natural he should desire to know to whom a\ngrateful homage should be addressed. In this case the desire is so\nmuch the more unreasonable because it cannot be satisfied; first,\nbecause when death and proscription is the penalty, there has never\nbeen and there never will be a man of letters so imprudent, and, to\nspeak plainly, so strangely daring, as to publish, or during his life\nto allow a book to be printed, in which he tramples under foot\ntemples, altars, and the statues of the gods, and where he attacks\nwithout any disguise the most consecrated religious opinions;\nsecondly, because it is a matter of public notoriety that all the\nworks of this character which have appeared for many years are the\nsecret testaments of numbers of great men, obliged during their lives\nto conceal their light under a bushel, whose heads death has withdrawn\nfrom the fury of persecutors, and whose cold ashes, consequently, do\nnot hear in the tomb either the importunate and denunciatory cries of\nthe superstitious, or the just eulogiums of the friends of truth;\nthirdly and lastly, _because this curiosity, so unfortunately\nentertained, may compromise in the most cruel manner the repose, the\nfortune, and the liberty of the relatives and friends of the authors\nof these bold books!_ This single consideration ought, then, to\ndetermine those hazarders of conjectures, if they have really good\nintentions, to wrap in the inmost folds of their hearts whatever\nsuspicions they may entertain concerning the author, however true or\nfalse they may be, and to turn their inquiring spirits to a use more\nbeneficial for both themselves and others.\n\n\n\n\nTRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.\n\n\nIn 1819 an anonymous translation of the LETTERS TO EUGENIA was\npublished in London by Richard Carlile. This translation in some of\nits parts was sufficiently complete and correct, but in others it was\nat absolute variance with the original work; in other parts, also, it\nwas interlarded with matter not written by d'Holbach; and in others,\nlarge portions of the original Letters were entirely omitted, as were\nlikewise a number of notes and the whole of the preliminary\nobservations, with which the volume was introduced to the public by\nNaigeon, so long the intimate friend of both d'Holbach and Diderot. In\nagain presenting the work in an English dress, the London translation\nhas been made the foundation of this, but the whole has been\nthoroughly revised and collated with the original. The omitted\nportions have been translated and inserted in their proper places, and\nthough some passages of the London work, not entirely faithful to the\noriginal, have been allowed to stand, yet the book, as it now\nappears, is essentially a new one, and is the most accurate and\ncomplete translation of the LETTERS TO EUGENIA which has ever been\nmade into the English language.\n\nThe work at first came anonymously from the press, and the mystery of\nits authorship was sedulously maintained in the introductory\nobservations of Naigeon, in consequence of the danger which then\nattended the issue of Infidel productions, not only in France but\nthroughout Christendom. The book was printed in Amsterdam, at\nd'Holbach's own expense, by Marc-Michael Rey, a noble printer, to whom\nthe world is greatly indebted for the inestimable aid he rendered the\nphilosophers. But bold as he was, and then living in a country the\nmost free of any in the world, he dared not openly send these LETTERS\nfrom his own press. They were issued in 1768, in two duodecimo\nvolumes, without any publisher's name, and with the imprint of\n_London_ on the title page, in order to set those persecutors at bay\nwho were prowling for victims, and who sought to burn author, printer,\nand book at the same pile. The prudence of the author and printer\nsaved _them_ from this fate; but the book had hardly reached France\nbefore its sale was forbidden under penalty of fines and imprisonment,\nand it was condemned by an act of Parliament to be burnt by the\npublic executioner in the streets of Paris, all of which particulars\nwill be narrated in the BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR OF BARON D'HOLBACH, which\nI am now preparing for the press.\n\nOf the excellence of the LETTERS TO EUGENIA, nothing need here be\nsaid. The work speaks for itself, and abounds in that eloquence\npeculiar to its author, and overflows with kindly sentiments of\nhumanity, benevolence and virtue. Like d'Holbach's other works, it is\ndistinguished by an ardent love of liberty, and an invincible hatred\nof despotism; by an unanswerable logic, by deep thought, and by\nprofound ideas. The tyrant and the priest are both displayed in their\ntrue colors; but while the author shows himself inexorable as fate\ntowards oppressive hierarchies and false ideas, he is tender as an\ninfant to the unfortunate, to those overburdened with unreasonable\nimpositions, to those who need consolation and guidance, and to those\nsearching after truth. Addressed, as the LETTERS were, to a lady\nsuffering from religious falsehoods and terrors, the object of the\nwriter is set forth in the motto from Lucretius which he placed on the\ntitle page, and which may thus be expressed in English:--\n\n    \"Reason's pure light I seek to give the mind,\n    And from Religion's fetters free mankind.\"\n\n                                                A. C. M.\n\nThe name of the lady was designedly kept in secrecy, and was unknown,\nexcept to _a very few_, till some years after d'Holbach's death. We\nnow know from the _Feuilles Posthumes_ of Lequinio, who had it from\nNaigeon, that the _Letters_ were written several years before their\npublication, for the instruction of a lady formerly distinguished at\nthe French Court for her graces and virtues. They were addressed to\nthe charming Marguerite, Marchioness de Vermandois. Her husband held\nthe lucrative post of farmer-general to the king, and besides\ninherited large estates. He possessed excellent natural abilities, and\nhis mind was strengthened and adorned by culture and letters. Had his\nmodesty permitted him to appear as such, he would now be known as a\npoet of genius and merit, for he wrote some poems and plays that were\nmuch admired by all who were allowed to peruse them. He was married in\n1763, on the day he completed his twenty-first year, to Marguerite\nJustine d'Estrades, then only nineteen years of age, and whom he saw\nfor the first time in his life only six weeks before they became\nhusband and wife. Like most of the matches then made among the higher\nclasses in France, this was one of a purely mercenary character. The\nfather of the Marquis de Vermandois, and the father of Marguerite, as\na means of joining their estates, contracted their children without\ndeigning to consult the wishes of the parties, and obedience or\ndisinheritance was the only alternative. When the compact was\nconcluded, Marguerite was taken from the convent where for five years\nshe had lived as a boarder and scholar, and commenced her married life\nand her course in the fashionable world at the same time. The match\nwas far more fortunate than such matches then generally proved to be.\nMarguerite's husband was passionately attached to her, and that\nattachment was returned. The Marquis was a friend of Baron d'Holbach,\nand soon after his marriage introduced his wife to him. Among all the\nbeauties of Paris the Marchioness was one of the most lovely and\nfascinating. Her features were remarkably beautiful, and the bloom and\nclearness of her complexion were such as absolutely to render\nnecessary the old comparison of the rose and the lily to do them\njustice. To these were added a voluptuous figure, agreeable manners,\nthe graces and vivacity of wit, and the still more enduring\nattractions of good humor, purity, and benevolence. A female like her\ncould not but be dear to all who enjoyed her intimacy, and a strong\nfriendship sprang up between her and Baron d'Holbach. Greatly pleased\nwith him at first, Marguerite was afterwards as greatly shocked. When\ntheir intercourse had become so familiar as to permit that frankness\nand freedom of conversation which prevails among intimate friends, she\ndiscovered that the Baron was an unbeliever in the Christian dogmas\nwhich she had learned at the convent, where, in consequence of her\nmother's death, she had been educated. She had been taught that an\nInfidel was a monster in all respects, and she was astounded to find\nunbelievers in men so agreeable in manners and person, and so profound\nin learning, as d'Holbach, Diderot, d'Alembert, and others. She could\ndeny neither their goodness nor their intellectual qualities, and\nwhile she admired the individuals she shuddered at their incredulity.\nEspecially did she mourn over Baron d'Holbach. He had a wife as\ncharming as herself, formerly the lovely Mademoiselle d'Aine, whose\nbeautiful features and seductive figure presented\n\n    \"A combination, and a form, indeed,\n    Where every god did seem to set his seal.\"\n\nNothing was more natural than that two such women should imbibe the\ndeepest tenderness for each other. But alas! the Baron's wife was\ntainted with her husband's heresies; and yet in their home did the\nMarchioness see all the domestic virtues exemplified, and beheld that\nsweet harmony and unchangeable affection for which the d'Holbachs\nwere eminently distinguished among their acquaintances, and which was\nremarkable from its striking contrast with the courtly and Christian\nhabits of the day. At a loss what to do, the Marchioness consulted her\nconfessor, and was advised to withdraw entirely from the society of\nthe Baron and his wife, unless she was willing to sacrifice all her\nhopes of heaven, and to plunge headlong down to hell. Her natural good\nsense and love of her friends struggled with her monastic education\nand reverence for the priests. The conflict rendered her miserable;\nand unable to enjoy happiness, she brooded over her wishes and her\nterrors. In this state of mind she at length wrote a touching letter\nto the Baron, and laid open her situation, requesting him to comfort,\nconsole, and enlighten her. Such was the origin of the book now\npresented in an English dress to the reader. It accomplished its\npurpose with the Marchioness de Vermandois, and afterwards its author\nconcluded to publish the work, in hopes it might be equally useful to\nothers.\n\nThe _Letters_ were _written_ in 1764, when d'Holbach was in the\nforty-second year of his age. Twelve different works he had before\nwritten and published, and all without the affix of his name. _Eleven_\nwere upon mineralogy, the arts and the sciences, and _one_ only upon\ntheology. That _one_ had been secretly printed in 1761, at Nancy, with\nthe imprint of London, and was _honored_ with a parliamentary statute\ncondemning its publication and forbidding its sale or circulation.\nChristian hatred bestowed upon it the additional honor of causing it\nto be burned in the streets of Paris by the public executioner. But\nthe prudence of the author protected his life. He attributed the book\nto a dead man, who had been known to entertain sceptical views. It was\nentitled CHRISTIANITY UNVEILED, and bore on its title page the name of\nBOULANGER. This was d'Holbach's first contribution to Infidel\nliterature, and the second similar work written by him was the LETTERS\nTO EUGENIA. These were the preludes to more than a quarter of a\nhundred different productions numbering among them such books as _Good\nSense_, _The System of Nature_, _Ecce Homo_, _Priests Unmasked_, &c.,\n&c., all printed anonymously or pseudonymously at his own expense,\nwithout a possibility of pecuniary advantage, and with such\nextraordinary secrecy as to show that he was actuated by no desire of\nliterary fame. It was love of truth alone that impelled d'Holbach to\nwrite. Brilliant, profound, eloquent and excellent as were his\nwritings, attracting notice as they did from the civil and religious\npowers, commented upon as they were by such men as Voltaire and\nFrederick the Great, admired as they were by that class who felt and\ncombated the evils of tyranny as well as of religion, of kings as well\nas of priests,--that class who almost drew their life from the books\nof him and his compeers,--he was never seduced from the rule he\noriginally laid down for his literary conduct.\n\nA very few persons he was obliged to trust in order to get his\nwritings printed, and but for that fact Baron d'Holbach would now only\nbe known as a gentleman of great wealth, extensive benevolence, and\nuncommon liberality, as a man of profound learning and agreeable\ncolloquial powers, as the bountiful friend of men of letters, as the\nsoother of the distressed, as the protector of the miserable, and as\nthe affectionate husband and father. So much of him we should have\nknown; but that he was the author of those books which roused\nintolerant priests and corrupt magistrates, consistories and\nparliaments, monarchs and philosophers, the people and their\noppressors,--that he was the Archimedes that thus moved the\nworld,--would not have been known had he not employed another\nphilosopher, by the name of Naigeon, to carry his manuscripts to\nAmsterdam, and to direct their printing by Marc-Michel Rey. It was\nNaigeon who carried the manuscript of the LETTERS TO EUGENIA to\nHolland, together with a number of others by the same author, which\nalso appeared during the year 1768,--an eventful year in the history\nof Infidel progress. The _Letters_ were carefully revised by d'Holbach\nbefore they were sent to press. All the passages of a purely personal\ncharacter were omitted, some new matter was incorporated, and some\nsentences were added purposely to keep the author and the lady he\naddressed in impenetrable obscurity. To raise the veil from a man of\nso much worth and genius, as well as to carry out his idea of doing\ngood, is one of the reasons which have led to the present preparation\nand publication of this book.\n\n                                                A. C. M.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n  LETTER I.\n\n  Of the Sources of Credulity, and of the Motives which should\n  lead to an Examination of Religion,                           Page 1\n\n\n  LETTER II.\n\n  Of the Ideas which Religion gives us of the Divinity,             29\n\n\n  LETTER III.\n\n  An Examination of the Holy Scriptures, of the Nature of the\n  Christian Religion, and of the Proofs upon which Christianity is\n  founded,                                                          46\n\n\n  LETTER IV.\n\n  Of the fundamental Dogmas of the Christian Religion,              76\n\n\n  LETTER V.\n\n  Of the Immortality of the Soul, and of the Dogma of another\n  Life,                                                             91\n\n\n  LETTER VI.\n\n  Of the Mysteries, Sacraments, and Religious Ceremonies of\n  Christianity,                                                    120\n\n\n  LETTER VII.\n\n  Of the pious Rites, Prayers, and Austerities of Christianity,    136\n\n\n  LETTER VIII.\n\n  Of Evangelical Virtues and Christian Perfection,                 154\n\n\n  LETTER IX.\n\n  Of the Advantages contributed to Government by Religion,         184\n\n\n  LETTER X.\n\n  Of the Advantages Religion confers on those who profess it,      211\n\n\n  LETTER XI.\n\n  Of Human or Natural Morality,                                    233\n\n\n  LETTER XII.\n\n  Of the small Consequence to be attached to Men's Speculations,\n  and the Indulgence which should be extended to them,             255\n\n\n\n\nLETTERS TO EUGENIA.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER I.\n\n  Of the Sources of Credulity, and of the Motives which should lead\n  to an Examination of Religion.\n\n\nI am unable, Madam, to express the grievous sentiments that the\nperusal of your letter produced in my bosom. Did not a rigorous duty\nretain me where I am, you would see me flying to your succor. Is it,\nthen, true that Eugenia is miserable? Is even she tormented with\nchagrin, scruples, and inquietudes? In the midst of opulence and\ngrandeur; assured of the tenderness and esteem of a husband who adores\nyou; enjoying at court the advantage, so rare, of being sincerely\nbeloved by every one; surrounded by friends who render sincere homage\nto your talents, your knowledge, and your tastes,--how can you suffer\nthe pains of melancholy and sorrow? Your pure and virtuous soul can\nsurely know neither shame nor remorse. Always so far removed from the\nweaknesses of your sex, on what account can you blush? Agreeably\noccupied with your duties, refreshed with useful reading and\nentertaining conversation, and having within your reach every\ndiversity of virtuous pleasures, how happens it that fears, distastes,\nand cares come to assail a heart for which every thing should procure\ncontentment and peace? Alas! even if your letter had not confirmed it\nbut too much, from the trouble which agitates you I should have\nrecognized without difficulty the work of superstition. This fiend\nalone possesses the power of disturbing honest souls, without calming\nthe passions of the corrupt; and when once she gains possession of a\nheart, she has the ability to annihilate its repose forever.\n\nYes, Madam, for a long time I have known the dangerous effects of\nreligious prejudices. I was myself formerly troubled with them. Like\nyou I have trembled under the yoke of religion; and if a careful and\ndeliberate examination had not fully undeceived me, instead of now\nbeing in a state to console you and to reassure you against yourself,\nyou would see me at the present moment partaking your inquietudes, and\naugmenting in your mind the lugubrious ideas with which I perceive you\nto be tormented. Thanks to Reason and Philosophy, an unruffled\nserenity long ago irradiated my understanding, and banished the\nterrors with which I was formerly agitated. What happiness for me if\nthe peace which I enjoy should put it in my power to break the charm\nwhich yet binds you with the chains of prejudice?\n\nNevertheless, without your express orders, I should never have dared\nto point out to you a mode of thinking widely different from your\nown, nor to combat the dangerous opinions to which you have been\npersuaded your happiness is attached. But for your request I should\nhave continued to enclose in my own breast opinions odious to the most\npart of men accustomed to see nothing except by the eyes of judges\nvisibly interested in deceiving them. Now, however, a sacred duty\nobliges me to speak. Eugenia, unquiet and alarmed, wishes me to\nexplore her heart; she needs assistance; she wishes to fix her ideas\nupon an object which interests her repose and her felicity. I owe her\nthe truth. It would be a crime longer to preserve silence. Although my\nattachment for her did not impose the necessity of responding to her\nconfidence, the love of truth would oblige me to make efforts to\ndissipate the chimeras which render her unhappy.\n\nI shall proceed then, Madam, to address you with the most complete\nfrankness. Perhaps at the first glance my ideas may appear strange;\nbut on examining them with still further care and attention, they will\ncease to shock you. Reason, good faith, and truth cannot do otherwise\nthan exert great influence over such an intellect as yours. I appeal,\ntherefore, from your alarmed imagination to your more tranquil\njudgment; I appeal from custom and prejudice to reflection and reason.\nNature has given you a gentle and sensible soul, and has imparted an\nexquisitely lively imagination, and a certain admixture of melancholy\nwhich disposes to despondent revery. It is from this peculiar mental\nconstitution that arise the woes that now afflict you. Your goodness,\ncandor, and sincerity preclude your suspecting in others either fraud\nor malignity. The gentleness of your character prevents your\ncontradicting notions that would appear revolting if you deigned to\nexamine them. You have chosen rather to defer to the judgment of\nothers, and to subscribe to their ideas, than to consult your own\nreason and rely upon your own understanding. The vivacity of your\nimagination causes you to embrace with avidity the dismal delineations\nwhich are presented to you; certain men, interested in agitating your\nmind, abuse your sensibility in order to produce alarm; they cause you\nto shudder at the terrible words, _death_, _judgment_, _hell_,\n_punishment_, and _eternity_; they lead you to turn pale at the very\nname of an inflexible _judge_, whose absolute decrees nothing can\nchange; you fancy that you see around you those demons whom he has\nmade the ministers of his vengeance upon his weak creatures; thus is\nyour heart filled with affright; you fear that at every instant you\nmay offend, without being aware of it, a capricious God, always\nthreatening and always enraged. In consequence of such a state of\nmind, all those moments of your life which should only be productive\nof contentment and peace, are constantly poisoned by inquietudes,\nscruples, and panic terrors, from which a soul as pure as yours ought\nto be forever exempt. The agitation into which you are thrown by these\nfatal ideas suspends the exercise of your faculties; your reason is\nmisled by a bewildered imagination, and you are afflicted with\nperplexities, with despondency, and with suspicion of yourself. In\nthis manner you become the dupe of those men who, addressing the\nimagination and stifling reason, long since subjugated the universe,\nand have actually persuaded reasonable beings that their reason is\neither useless or dangerous.\n\nSuch is, Madam, the constant language of the apostles of superstition,\nwhose design has always been, and will always continue to be, to\ndestroy human reason in order to exercise their power with impunity\nover mankind. Throughout the globe the perfidious ministers of\nreligion have been either the concealed or the declared enemies of\nreason, because they always see reason opposed to their views. Every\nwhere do they decry it, because they truly fear that it will destroy\ntheir empire by discovering their conspiracies and the futility of\ntheir fables. Every where upon its ruins they struggle to erect the\nempire of fanaticism and imagination. To attain this end with more\ncertainty, they have unceasingly terrified mortals with hideous\npaintings, have astonished and seduced them by marvels and mysteries,\nembarrassed them by enigmas and uncertainties, surcharged them with\nobservances and ceremonies, filled their minds with terrors and\nscruples, and fixed their eyes upon a future, which, far from\nrendering them more virtuous and happy here below, has only turned\nthem from the path of true happiness, and destroyed it completely and\nforever in their bosoms.\n\nSuch are the artifices which the ministers of religion every where\nemploy to enslave the earth and to retain it under the yoke. The human\nrace, in all countries, has become the prey of the priests. The\npriests have given the name of _religion_ to systems invented by them\nto subjugate men, whose imagination they had seduced, whose\nunderstanding they had confounded, and whose reason they had\nendeavored to extinguish.\n\nIt is especially in infancy that the human mind is disposed to receive\nwhatever impression is made upon it. Thus our priests have prudently\nseized upon the youth to inspire them with ideas that they could never\nimpose upon adults. It is during the most tender and susceptible age\nof men that the priests have familiarized the understanding of our\nrace with monstrous fables, with extravagant and disjointed fancies,\nand with ridiculous chimeras, which, by degrees, become objects that\nare respected and that are feared during life.\n\nWe need only open our eyes to see the unworthy means employed by\n_sacerdotal policy_ to stifle the dawning reason of men. During their\ninfancy they are taught tales which are ridiculous, impertinent,\ncontradictory, and criminal, and to these they are enjoined to pay\nrespect. They are gradually impregnated with inconceivable mysteries\nthat are announced as sacred truths, and they are accustomed to\ncontemplate phantoms before which they habitually tremble. In a word,\nmeasures are taken which are the best calculated to render those\nblind who do not consult their reason, and to render those base who\nconstantly shudder whenever they recall the ideas with which their\npriests infected their minds at an age when they were unable to guard\nagainst such snares.\n\nRecall to mind, Madam, the dangerous cares which were taken in the\nconvent where you were educated, to sow in your mind the germs of\nthose inquietudes that now afflict you. It was there that they began\nto speak to you of fables, prodigies, mysteries, and doctrines that\nyou actually revere, while, if these things were announced to-day for\nthe first time, you would regard them as ridiculous, and as entirely\nunworthy of attention. I have often witnessed your laughter at the\nsimplicity with which you formerly credited those tales of sorcerers\nand ghosts, that, during your childhood, were related by the nuns who\nhad charge of your education. When you entered society where for a\nlong time such chimeras have been disbelieved, you were insensibly\nundeceived, and at present you blush at your former credulity. Why\nhave you not the courage to laugh, in a similar manner, at an infinity\nof other chimeras with no better foundation, which torment you even\nyet, and which only appear more respectable, because you have not\ndared to examine them with your own eyes, or because you see them\nrespected by a public who have never explored them? If my Eugenia is\nenlightened and reasonable upon all other topics, why does she\nrenounce her understanding and her judgment whenever religion is in\nquestion? In the mean time, at this redoubtable word her soul is\ndisturbed, her strength abandons her, her ordinary penetration is at\nfault, her imagination wanders, she only sees through a cloud, she is\nunquiet and afflicted. On the watch against reason, she dares not call\nthat to her assistance. She persuades herself that the best course for\nher to take is to allow herself to follow the opinions of a multitude\nwho never examine, and who always suffer themselves to be conducted by\nblind or deceitful guides.\n\nTo reestablish peace in your mind, dear Madam, cease to despise\nyourself; entertain a just confidence in your own powers of mind, and\nfeel no chagrin at finding yourself infected with a general and\ninvoluntary epidemic from which it did not depend on you to escape.\nThe good Abbe de St. Pierre had reason when he said that _devotion was\nthe small pox of the soul_. I will add that it is rare the disease\ndoes not leave its pits for life. Indeed, see how often the most\nenlightened persons persist forever in the prejudices of their\ninfancy! These notions are so early inculcated, and so many\nprecautions are continually taken to render them durable, that if any\nthing may reasonably surprise us, it is to see any one have the\nability to rise superior to such influences. The most sublime geniuses\nare often the playthings of superstition. The heat of their\nimagination sometimes only serves to lead them the farther astray, and\nto attach them to opinions which would cause them to blush did they\nbut consult their reason. Pascal constantly imagined that he saw hell\nyawning under his feet; Mallebranche was extravagantly credulous;\nHobbes had a great terror of phantoms and demons;[3] and the immortal\nNewton wrote a ridiculous commentary on the vials and visions of the\nApocalypse. In a word, every thing proves that there is nothing more\ndifficult than to efface the notions with which we are imbued during\nour infancy. The most sensible persons, and those who reason with the\nmost correctness upon every other matter, relapse into their infancy\nwhenever religion is in question.\n\n[3] On this subject see Bayle's _Dict. Crit._, art. _Hobbes_, Rem. N.\n\nThus, Madam, you need not blush for a weakness which you hold in\ncommon with almost all the world, and from which the greatest men are\nnot always exempt. Let your courage then revive, and fear not to\nexamine with perfect composure the phantoms which alarm you. In a\nmatter which so greatly interests your repose, consult that\nenlightened reason which places you as much above the vulgar, as it\nelevates the human species above the other animals. Far from being\nsuspicious of your own understanding and intellectual faculties, turn\nyour just suspicion against those men, far less enlightened and honest\nthan you, who, to vanquish you, only address themselves to your lively\nimagination; who have the cruelty to disturb the serenity of your\nsoul; who, under the pretext of attaching you only to heaven, insist\nthat you must sunder the most tender and endearing ties; and in fine,\nwho oblige you to proscribe the use of that beneficent reason whose\nlight guides your conduct so judiciously and so safely.\n\nLeave inquietude and remorse to those corrupt women who have cause to\nreproach themselves, or who have crimes to expiate. Leave superstition\nto those silly and ignorant females whose narrow minds are incapable\nof reasoning or reflection. Abandon the futile and trivial ceremonies\nof an objectionable devotion to those idle and peevish women, for\nwhom, as soon as the transient reign of their personal charms is\nfinished, there remains no rational relaxation to fill the void of\ntheir days, and who seek by slander and treachery to console\nthemselves for the loss of pleasures which they can no longer enjoy.\nResist that inclination which seems to impel you to gloomy meditation,\nsolitude, and melancholy. Devotion is only suited to inert and\nlistless souls, while yours is formed for action. You should pursue\nthe course I recommend for the sake of your husband, whose happiness\ndepends upon you; you owe it to the children, who will soon,\nundoubtedly, need all your care and all your instructions for the\nguidance of their hearts and understandings; you owe it to the friends\nwho honor you, and who will value your society when the beauty which\nnow adorns your person and the voluptuousness which graces your figure\nhave yielded to the inroads of time; you owe it to the circle in which\nyou move, and to the world which has a right to your example,\npossessing as you do virtues that are far more rare to persons of your\nrank than devotion. In fine, you owe happiness to yourself; for,\nnotwithstanding the promises of religion, you will never find\nhappiness in those agitations into which I perceive you cast by the\nlurid ideas of superstition. In this path you will only encounter\ndoleful chimeras, frightful phantoms, embarrassments without end,\ncrushing uncertainties, inexplicable enigmas, and dangerous reveries,\nwhich are only calculated to disturb your repose, to deprive you of\nhappiness, and to render you incapable of occupying yourself with that\nof others. It is very difficult to make those around us happy when we\nare ourselves miserable and deprived of peace.\n\nIf you will even slightly make observations upon those about you, you\nwill find abundant proofs of what I advance. The most religious\npersons are rarely the most amiable or the most social. Even the most\nsincere devotion, by subjecting those who embrace it to wearisome and\ncrippling ceremonies, by occupying their imaginations with lugubrious\nand afflicting objects, by exciting their zeal, is but little\ncalculated to give to devotees that equality of temper, that sweetness\nof an indulgent disposition, and that amenity of character, which\nconstitute the greatest charms of personal intercourse. A thousand\nexamples might be adduced to convince you that devotees who are the\nmost occupied in superstitious observances to please God are not\nthose women who succeed best in pleasing those by whom they are\nsurrounded. If there seems to be occasionally an exception to this\nrule, it is on the part of those who have not all the zeal and fervor\nwhich is exacted by their religion. Devotion is either a morose and\nmelancholy passion, or it is a violent and obstinate enthusiasm.\nReligion imposes an exclusive and entire regard upon its slaves. All\nthat an acceptable Christian gives to a fellow-creature is a robbery\nfrom the Creator. A soul filled with religious fervor fears to attach\nitself to things of the earth, lest it should lose sight of its\njealous God, who wishes to engross constant attention, who lays it\ndown as a duty to his creatures that they should sacrifice to him\ntheir most agreeable and most innocent inclinations, and who orders\nthat they should render themselves miserable here below, under the\nidea of pleasing him. In accordance with such principles, we generally\nsee devotees executing with much fidelity the duty of tormenting\nthemselves and disturbing the repose of others. They actually believe\nthey acquire great merit with the Sovereign of heaven by rendering\nthemselves perfectly useless, or even a scourge to the inhabitants of\nthe earth.\n\nI am aware, Madam, that devotion in you does not produce effects\ninjurious to others; but I fear that it is only more injurious to\nyourself. The goodness of your heart, the sweetness of your\ndisposition, and the beneficence which displays itself in all your\nconduct, are all so great that even religion does not impel you to\nany dangerous excesses. Nevertheless, devotion often causes strange\nmetamorphoses. Unquiet, agitated, miserable within yourself, it is to\nbe feared that your temperament will change, that your disposition\nwill become acrimonious, and that the vexatious ideas over which you\nhave so long brooded will sooner or later produce a disastrous\ninfluence upon those who approach you. Does not experience constantly\nshow us that religion effects changes of this kind? What are called\n_conversions_, what devotees regard as special acts of divine grace,\nare very often only lamentable revolutions by which real vices and\nodious qualities are substituted for amiable and useful\ncharacteristics. By a deplorable consequence of these pretended\nmiracles of grace we frequently see sorrow succeed to enjoyment, a\ngloomy and unhappy state to one of innocent gayety, lassitude and\nchagrin to activity and hilarity, and slander, intolerance, and zeal\nto indulgence and gentleness; nay, what do I say? cruelty itself to\nhumanity. In a word, superstition is a dangerous leaven, that is\nfitted to corrupt even the most honest hearts.\n\nDo you not see, in fact, the excesses to which fanaticism and zeal\ndrive the wisest and best meaning men? Princes, magistrates, and\njudges become inhuman and pitiless as soon as there is a question of\nthe interests of religion. Men of the gentlest disposition, the most\nindulgent, and the most equitable, upon every other matter, religion\ntransforms to ferocious beasts. The most feeling and compassionate\npersons believe themselves in conscience obliged to harden their\nhearts, to do violence to their better instincts, and to stifle\nnature, in order to show themselves cruel to those who are denounced\nas enemies to their own manner of thinking. Recall to your mind,\nMadam, the cruelties of nations and governments in alternate\npersecutions of Catholics or Protestants, as either happened to be in\nthe ascendant. Can you find reason, equity, or humanity in the\nvexations, imprisonments, and exiles that in our days are inflicted\nupon the Jansenists? And these last, if ever they should attain in\ntheir turn the power requisite for persecution, would not probably\ntreat their adversaries with more moderation or justice. Do you not\ndaily see individuals who pique themselves upon their sensibility\nunblushingly express the joy they would feel at the extermination of\npersons to whom they believe they owe neither benevolence nor\nindulgence, and whose only crime is a disdain for prejudices that the\nvulgar regard as sacred, or that an erroneous and false policy\nconsiders useful to the state? Superstition has so greatly stifled all\nsense of humanity in many persons otherwise truly estimable, that they\nhave no compunctions at sacrificing the most enlightened men of the\nnation because they could not be the most credulous or the most\nsubmissive to the authority of the priests.\n\nIn a word, devotion is only calculated to fill the heart with a bitter\nrancor, that banishes peace and harmony from society. In the matter\nof religion, every one believes himself obliged to show more or less\nardor and zeal. Have I not often seen you uncertain yourself whether\nyou ought to sigh or smile at the self-depreciation of devotees\nridiculously inflamed by that religious vanity which grows out of\nsectarian conventionalities? You also see them participating in\ntheological quarrels, in which, without comprehending their nature or\npurport, they believe themselves conscientiously obliged to mingle. I\nhave a hundred times seen you astounded with their clamors, indignant\nat their animosity, scandalized at their cabals, and filled with\ndisdain at their obstinate ignorance. Yet nothing is more natural than\nthese outbreaks; ignorance has always been the mother of devotion. To\nbe a devotee has always been synonymous to having an imbecile\nconfidence in priests. It is to receive all impulsions from them; it\nis to think and act only according to them; it is blindly to adopt\ntheir passions and prejudices; it is faithfully to fulfil practices\nwhich their caprice imposes.\n\nEugenia is not formed to follow such guides. They would terminate by\nleading her widely astray, by dazzling her vivid imagination, by\ninfecting her gentle and amiable disposition with a deadly poison. To\nmaster with more certainty her understanding, they would render her\naustere, intolerant, and vindictive. In a word, by the magical power\nof superstition and supernatural notions, they would succeed, perhaps,\nin transforming to vices those happy dispositions that nature has\ngiven you. Believe me, Madam, you would gain nothing by such a\nmetamorphosis. Rather be what you really are. Extricate yourself as\nsoon as possible from that state of incertitude and languor, from that\nalternative of despondency and trouble, in which you are immersed. If\nyou will only take your reason and virtue for guides, you will soon\nbreak the fetters whose dangerous effects you have begun to feel.\n\nAssume the courage, then, I repeat it, to examine for yourself this\nreligion, which, far from procuring you the happiness it promised,\nwill only prove an inexhaustible source of inquietudes and alarms, and\nwhich will deprive you, sooner or later, of those rare qualities which\nrender you so dear to society. Your interest exacts that you should\nrender peace to your mind. It is your duty carefully to preserve that\nsweetness of temper, that indulgence, and that cheerfulness, by which\nyou are so much endeared to all those who approach you. You owe\nhappiness to yourself, and you owe it to those who surround you. Do\nnot, then, abandon yourself to superstitious reveries, but collect all\nthe strength of your judgment to combat the chimeras which torment\nyour imagination. They will disappear as soon as you have considered\nthem with your ordinary sagacity.\n\nDo not tell me, Madam, that your understanding is too weak to sound\nthe depths of theology. Do not tell me, in the language of our\npriests, that the truths of religion are mysteries that we must adopt\nwithout comprehending them, and that it is necessary to adore in\nsilence. By expressing themselves in this manner, do you not see they\nreally proscribe and condemn the very religion to which they are so\nsolicitous you should adhere? Whatever is supernatural is unsuited to\nman, and whatever is beyond his comprehension ought not to occupy his\nattention. To adore what we are not able to know, is to adore nothing.\nTo believe in what we cannot conceive, is to believe in nothing. To\nadmit without examination every thing we are directed to admit, is to\nbe basely and stupidly credulous. To say that religion is above\nreason, is to recognize the fact that it was not made for reasonable\nbeings; it is to avow that those who teach it have no more ability to\nfathom its depths than ourselves; it is to confess that our reverend\ndoctors do not themselves understand the marvels with which they daily\nentertain us.\n\nIf the truths of religion were, as they assure us, necessary to all\nmen, they would be clear and intelligible to all men. If the dogmas\nwhich this religion teaches were as important as it is asserted, they\nwould not only be within the comprehension of the doctors who preach\nthem, but of all those who hear their lessons. Is it not strange that\nthe very persons whose profession it is to furnish themselves with\nreligions knowledge, in order to impart it to others, should recognize\ntheir own dogmas as beyond their own understanding, and that they\nshould obstinately inculcate to the people what they acknowledge they\ndo not comprehend themselves? Should we have much confidence in a\nphysician, who, after confessing that he was utterly ignorant of his\nart, should nevertheless boast of the excellence of his remedies?\nThis, however, is the constant practice of our spiritual quacks. By a\nstrange fatality, the most sensible people consent to be the dupes of\nthese empirics who are perpetually obliged to avow their own profound\nignorance.\n\nBut if the mysteries of religion are incomprehensible for even those\nwho inculcate it,--if among those who profess it there is no one who\nknows precisely what he believes, or who can give an account of either\nhis conduct or belief,--this is not so in regard to the difficulties\nwith which we oppose this religion. These objections are simple,\nwithin the comprehension of all persons of ordinary ability, and\ncapable of convincing every man who, renouncing the prejudices of his\ninfancy, will deign to consult the good sense that nature has bestowed\nupon all beings of the human race.\n\nFor a long period of time, subtle theologians have, without\nrelaxation, been occupied in warding off the attacks of the\nincredulous, and in repairing the breaches made in the ruinous edifice\nof religion by adversaries who combated under the flag of reason. In\nall times there have been people who felt the futility of the titles\nupon which the priests have arrogated the right of enslaving the\nunderstandings of men, and of subjugating and despoiling nations.\nNotwithstanding all the efforts of the interested and frequently\nhypocritical men who have taken up the defence of religion, from which\nthey and their confederates alone are profited, these apologists have\nnever been able to vindicate successfully their _divine_ system\nagainst the attacks of incredulity. Without cessation they have\nreplied to the objections which have been made, but never have they\nrefuted or annihilated them. Almost in every instance the defenders of\nChristianity have been sustained by oppressive laws on the part of the\ngovernment; and it has only been by injuries, by declamations, by\npunishments and persecutions, that they have replied to the\nallegations of reason. It is in this manner that they have apparently\nremained masters of the field of battle which their adversaries could\nnot openly contest. Yet, in spite of the disadvantages of a combat so\nunequal, and although the partisans of religion were accoutred with\nevery possible weapon, and could show themselves openly, in accordance\nwith _law_, while their adversaries had no arms but those of reason,\nand could not appear personally but at the peril of fines,\nimprisonment, torture, and death, and were restricted from bringing\nall their arsenal into service, yet they have inflicted profound,\nimmedicable, and incurable wounds upon superstition. Still, if we\nbelieve the mercenaries of religion, the excellence of their system\nmakes it absolutely invulnerable to every blow which can be inflicted\nupon it; and they pretend they have a thousand times in a victorious\nmanner answered the objections which are continually renewed against\nthem. In spite of this great security, we see them excessively alarmed\nevery time a new combatant presents himself, and the latter may well\nand successfully use the most common objections, and those which have\nmost frequently been urged, since it is evident that up to the present\nmoment the arguments have never been obviated or opposed with\nsatisfactory replies. To convince you, Madam, of what I here advance,\nyou need only compare the most simple and ordinary difficulties which\ngood sense opposes to religion, with the pretended solutions that have\nbeen given. You will perceive that the difficulties, evident even to\nthe capacities of a child, have never been removed by divines the most\npractised in dialectics. You will find in their replies only subtle\ndistinctions, metaphysical subterfuges, unintelligible verbiage, which\ncan never be the language of truth, and which demonstrates the\nembarrassment, the impotence, and the bad faith of those who are\ninterested by their position in sustaining a desperate cause. In a\nword, the difficulties which have been urged against religion are\nclear, and within the comprehension of every one, while the answers\nwhich have been given are obscure, entangled, and far from\nsatisfactory, even to persons most versed in such jargon, and plainly\nindicating that the authors of these replies do not themselves\nunderstand what they say.\n\nIf you consult the clergy, they will not fail to set forth the\nantiquity of their doctrine, which has always maintained itself,\nnotwithstanding the continual attacks of the Heretics, the Mecreans,\nand the Impious generally, and also in spite of the persecutions of\nthe Pagans. You have, Madam, too much good sense not to perceive at\nonce that the antiquity of an opinion proves nothing in its favor. If\nantiquity was a proof of truth, Christianity must yield to Judaism,\nand that in its turn to the religion of the Egyptians and Chaldeans,\nor, in other words, to the idolatry which was greatly anterior to\nMoses. For thousands of years it was universally believed that the sun\nrevolved round the earth, which remained immovable; and yet it is not\nthe less true that the sun is fixed, and the earth moves around that.\nBesides, it is evident that the Christianity of to-day is not what it\nformerly was. The continual attacks that this religion has suffered\nfrom heretics, commencing with its earliest history, proves that there\nnever could have existed any harmony between the partisans of a\npretended divine system, which offended all rules of consistency and\nlogic in its very first principles. Some parts of this celestial\nsystem were always denied by devotees who admitted other parts. If\ninfidels have often attacked religion without apparent effect, it is\nbecause the best reasons become useless against the blindness of a\nsuperstition sustained by the public authority, or against the torrent\nof opinion and custom which sways the minds of most men. With regard\nto the persecutions which the church suffered on the part of the\npagans, he is but slightly acquainted with the effects of fanaticism\nand religious obstinacy who does not perceive that tyranny is\ncalculated to excite and extend what it persecutes most violently.\n\nYou are not formed to be the dupe of names and authorities. The\ndefenders of the popular superstition will endeavor to overwhelm you\nby the multiplied testimony of many illustrious and learned men, who\nnot only admitted the Christian religion, but who were also its most\nzealous supporters. They will adduce holy divines, great philosophers,\npowerful reasoners, fathers of the church, and learned interpreters,\nwho have successively advocated the system. I will not contest the\nunderstanding of the learned men who are cited, which, however, was\noften faulty, but will content myself with repeating that frequently\nthe greatest geniuses are not more clear sighted in matters of\nreligion than the people themselves. They did not examine the\nreligious opinions they taught; it may be because they regarded them\nas sacred, or it may be because they never went back to first\nprinciples, which they would have found altogether unsound, if they\nhad considered them without prejudice. It may also have happened\nbecause they were interested in defending a cause with which their own\nposition was allied. Thus their testimony is exceptionable, and their\nauthority carries no great weight.\n\nWith regard to the interpreters and commentators, who for so many\nages have painfully toiled to elucidate the divine laws, to explain\nthe sacred books, and to fix the dogmas of Christianity, their very\nlabors ought to inspire us with suspicion concerning a religion which\nis founded upon such books and which preaches such dogmas. They prove\nthat works emanating from the Supreme Being are obscure,\nunintelligible, and need human assistance in order to be understood by\nthose to whom the Divinity wished to reveal his will. The laws of a\nwise God would be simple and clear. Defective laws alone need\ninterpreters.\n\nIt is not, then, Madam, upon these interpreters that you should rely;\nit is upon yourself; it is your own reason that you should consult. It\nis _your_ happiness, it is _your_ repose, that is in question; and\nthese objects are too serious to allow their decision to be delegated\nto any others than yourself. If religion is as important as we are\nassured, it undoubtedly merits the greatest attention. If it is upon\nthis religion that depends the happiness of men both in this world and\nin another, there is no subject which interests us so strongly, and\nwhich consequently demands a more thorough, careful, and considerate\nexamination. Can there be any thing, then, more strange than the\nconduct of the great majority of men? Entirely convinced of the\nnecessity and importance of religion, they still never give themselves\nthe trouble to examine it thoroughly; they follow it in a spirit of\nroutine and from habit; they never give any reason for its dogmas;\nthey revere it, they submit to it, and they groan under its weight,\nwithout ever inquiring wherefore. In fine, they rely upon others to\nexamine it; and they whose judgment they so blindly receive are\nprecisely those persons upon whose opinions they should look with the\nmost suspicion. The priests arrogate the possession of judging\nexclusively and without appeal of a system evidently invented for\ntheir own utility. And what is the language of these priests? Visibly\ninterested in maintaining the received opinions, they exhibit them as\nnecessary to the public good, as useful and consoling for us all, as\nintimately connected with morality, as indispensable to society, and,\nin a word, as of the very greatest importance. After having thus\nprepossessed our minds, they next prohibit our examining the things so\nimportant to be known. What must be thought of such conduct? You can\nonly conclude that they desire to deceive you, that they fear\nexamination only because religion cannot sustain it, and that they\ndread reason because it is able to unveil the incalculably dangerous\nprojects of the priesthood against the human race.\n\nFor these reasons, Madam, as I cannot too often repeat, examine for\nyourself; make use of your own understanding; seek the truth in the\nsincerity of your heart; reduce prejudice to silence; throw off the\nbase servitude of custom; be suspicious of imagination; and with these\nprecautions, in good faith with yourself, you can weigh with an\nimpartial hand the various opinions concerning religion. From\nwhatever source an opinion may come, acquiesce only in that which\nshall be convincing to your understanding, satisfactory to your heart,\nconformable to a healthy morality, and approved by virtue. Reject with\ndisdain whatever shocks your reason, and repulse with horror those\nnotions so criminal and injurious to morality which religion endeavors\nto palm off for supernatural and divine virtues.\n\nWhat do I say? Amiable and wise Eugenia, examine rigorously the ideas\nthat, by your own desire, I shall hereafter present you. Let not your\nconfidence in me, or your deference to my weak understanding, blind\nyou in regard to my opinions. I submit them to your judgment. Discuss\nthem, combat them, and never give them your assent until you are\nconvinced that in them you recognize the truth. My sentiments are\nneither divine oracles nor theological opinions which it is not\npermitted to canvass. If what I say is true, adopt my ideas. If I am\ndeceived, point out my errors, and I am ready to recognize them and to\nsubscribe my own condemnation. It will be very pleasant, Madam, to\nlearn truths of you which, up to the present time, I have vainly\nsought in the writings of our divines. If I have at this moment any\nadvantage over you, it is due entirely to that tranquillity which I\nenjoy, and of which at present you are unhappily deprived. The\nagitations of your mind, the inquietudes of your body, and the\nattacks of an exacting and ceremonious devotion, with which your soul\nis perplexed, prevent you, for the moment, from seeing things coolly,\nand hinder you from making use of your own understanding; but I have\nno doubt that soon your intellect, strengthened by reason against vain\nchimeras, will regain its natural vigor and the superiority which\nbelongs to it. In awaiting this moment that I foresee and so much\ndesire, I shall esteem myself extremely happy if my reflections shall\ncontribute to render you that tranquillity of spirit so necessary to\njudge wisely of things, and without which there can be no true\nhappiness.\n\nI perceive, Madam, though rather tardily, the length of this letter;\nbut I hope you will pardon it, as well as my frankness. They will at\nleast prove the lively interest I take in your painful situation, the\nsincere desire I feel to bring it to a termination, and the strong\ninclination which actuates me to restore you to your accustomed\nserenity. Less pressing motives would never have been sufficient to\nmake me break silence. Your own positive orders were necessary to lead\nme to speak of objects which, once thoroughly examined, give no\nuneasiness to a healthy mind. It has been a law with me never to\nexplain myself upon the subject of religion. Experience has often\nconvinced me that the most useless of enterprises is to seek to\nundeceive a prejudiced mind. I was very far from believing that I\nought ever to write upon these subjects. You alone, Madam, had the\npower to conquer my indolence, and to impel me to change my\nresolution. Eugenia afflicted, tormented with scruples, and ready to\nplunge herself into gloomy austerities and superstitions, calculated\nto render her unamiable to others, without contributing happiness to\nherself, honored me with her confidence, and requested counsel of her\nfriend. She exacted that I should speak. \"It is enough,\" I said; \"let\nme write for Eugenia; let me endeavor to restore the repose she has\nlost; let me labor with ardor for her upon whose happiness that of so\nmany others is dependent.\"\n\nSuch, Madam, are the motives which induce me to take my pen in hand.\nIn looking forward to the time when you will be undeceived, I shall\ndare at least to flatter myself that you will not regard me with the\nsame eyes with which priests and devotees look upon every one who has\nthe temerity to contradict their ideas. To believe them, every man who\ndeclares himself against religion is a bad citizen, a madman armed to\njustify his passions, a perturbator of the public repose, and an enemy\nof his fellow-citizens, that cannot be punished with too much rigor.\nMy conduct is known to you; and the confidence with which you honor me\nis sufficient for my apology. It is for you alone that I write. It is\nto dissipate the clouds that obscure your mental horizon that I\ncommunicate reflections which, but for reasons so pressing, I should\nhave always enclosed in my own bosom. If by chance they shall\nhereafter fall into other hands than yours, and be found of some\nutility, I shall felicitate myself for having contributed to the\nestablishment of happiness by leading back to reason minds which had\nwandered from it, by making truth to be felt and known, and by\nunmasking impostures which have caused so many misfortunes upon the\nearth.\n\nIn a word, I submit my reasoning to your judgment, I confide fully in\nyour discretion, and I allow myself to conclude that my ideas, after\nyou are disabused of the vain terrors with which you are now\noppressed, will fully convince you that this religion, which is\nexhibited to men as a concern the most important, the most true, the\nmost interesting, and the most useful, is only a tissue of\nabsurdities, is calculated to confound reason, to disturb the\nunderstanding, and can be advantageous to none save those who make use\nof it to govern the human race. I shall acknowledge myself in the\nwrong if I do not prove, in the clearest manner, that religion is\nfalse, useless, and dangerous, and that morality, in its stead, should\noccupy the spirits and animate the souls of all men.\n\nI shall enter more particularly into the subject in my next letter. I\nshall go back to first principles, and in the course of this\ncorrespondence I flatter myself I shall completely demonstrate that\nthese objects, which theology endeavors to render intricate, and to\nenvelop with clouds, in order to make them more respectable and\nsacred, are not only entirely susceptible of being understood by you,\nbut that they are likewise within the comprehension of every one who\npossesses even an ordinary share of good sense. If my frankness shall\nappear too undisguised, I beg you to consider, Madam, that it is\nnecessary I should address you explicitly and clearly. I now consider\nit my duty to administer an energetic and prompt remedy for the malady\nwith which I perceive you to be attacked. Besides, I venture to hope\nthat in a short time you will feel gratified that I have shown you the\ntruth in all its integrity and brilliancy. You will pardon me for\nhaving dissipated the unreal and yet harassing phantoms which infested\nyour mind. But let my success be what it may, my efforts to confer\ntranquillity upon you will at least be evidences of the interest I\ntake in your happiness, of my zeal to serve you, and of the respect\nwith which I am your sincere and attached friend.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER II.\n\n  Of the Ideas which Religion gives us of the Divinity.\n\n\nEvery religion is a system of opinions and conduct founded upon the\nnotions, true or false, that we entertain of the Divinity. To judge of\nthe truth of any system, it is requisite to examine its principles, to\nsee if they accord, and to satisfy ourselves whether all its parts\nlend a mutual support to each other. A religion, to be _true_, should\ngive us _true_ ideas of God; and it is by our reason alone that we are\nable to decide whether what theology asserts concerning this being and\nhis attributes is true or otherwise. Truth for men is only conformity\nto reason; and thus the same reason which the clergy proscribe is, in\nthe last resort, our only means of judging the system that religion\nproposes for our assent. That God can only be the true God who is most\nconformable to our reason, and the true worship can be no other than\nthat which reason approves.\n\nReligion is only important in accordance with the advantages it\nbestows upon mankind. The best religion must be that which procures\nits disciples the most real, the most extensive, and the most durable\nadvantages. A false religion must necessarily bestow upon those who\npractise it only a false, chimerical, and transient utility. Reason\nmust be the judge whether the benefits derived are real or imaginary.\nThus, as we constantly see, it belongs to reason to decide whether a\nreligion, a mode of worship, or a system of conduct is advantageous or\ninjurious to the human race.\n\nIt is in accordance with these incontestable principles that I shall\nexamine the religion of the Christians. I shall commence by analyzing\nthe ideas which their system gives us of the Divinity, which it boasts\nof presenting to us in a more perfect manner than all other religions\nin the world. I shall examine whether these ideas accord with each\nother, whether the dogmas taught by this religion are conformable to\nthose fundamental principles which are every where acknowledged,\nwhether they are consonant with them, and whether the conduct which\nChristianity prescribes answers to the notions which itself gives us\nof the Divinity. I shall conclude the inquiry by investigating the\nadvantages that the Christian religion procures the human\nrace--advantages, according to its partisans, that infinitely surpass\nthose which result from all the other religions of the earth.\n\nThe Christian religion, as the basis of its belief, sets forth an only\nGod, which it defines as a pure spirit, as an eternal intelligence, as\nindependent and immutable, who has infinite power, who is the cause of\nall things, who foresees all things, who fills immensity, who created\nfrom nothing the world and all it encloses, and who preserves and\ngoverns it according to the laws of his infinite wisdom, and the\nperfections of his infinite goodness and justice, which are all so\nevident in his works.\n\nSuch are the ideas that Christianity gives us of the Divinity. Let us\nnow see whether they accord with the other notions presented to us by\nthis religious system, and which it pretends were revealed by God\nhimself; or, in other words, that these truths were received directly\nfrom the Deity, who concealed them from the remainder of mankind, and\ndeprived them of a knowledge of his essence. Thus the Christian\nreligion is founded upon a special revelation. And to whom was the\nrevelation made? At first to Abraham, and then to his posterity. The\nGod of the universe, then, the Father of all men, was only willing to\nbe known to the descendants of a Chaldean, who for a long series of\nyears were the exclusive possessors of the knowledge of the true God.\nBy an effect of his special kindness, the Jewish people was for a long\ntime the only race favored with a revelation equally necessary for all\nmen. This was the only people which understood the relations between\nman and the Supreme Being. All other nations wandered in darkness, or\npossessed no ideas of the Sovereign of nature but such as were crude,\nridiculous, or criminal.\n\nThus, at the very first step, do we not see that Christianity impairs\nthe goodness and justice of its God? A revelation to a particular\npeople only announces a partial God, who favors a portion of his\nchildren, to the prejudice of all the others; who consults only his\ncaprice, and not real merit; who, incapable of conferring happiness\nupon all men, shows his tenderness solely to some individuals, who\nhave, however, no titles upon his consideration not possessed by the\nothers. What would you say of a father who, placed at the head of a\nnumerous family, had no eyes but for a single one of his children, and\nwho never allowed himself to be seen by any of them except that\nfavored one? What would you say if he was displeased with the rest for\nnot being acquainted with his features, notwithstanding he would never\nallow them to approach his person? Would you not accuse such a father\nof caprice, cruelty, folly, and a want of reason, if he visited with\nhis anger the children whom he had himself excluded from his presence?\nWould you not impute to him an injustice of which none but the most\nbrutal of our species could be guilty if he actually punished them for\nnot having executed orders which he was never pleased to give them?\n\nConclude, then, with me, Madam, that the revelation of a religion to\nonly a single tribe or nation sets forth a God neither good,\nimpartial, nor equitable, but an unjust and capricious tyrant, who,\nthough he may show kindness and preference to some of his creatures,\nat any rate acts with the greatest cruelty towards all the others.\nThis admitted, revelation does not prove the goodness, but the caprice\nand partiality of the God that religion represents to us as full of\nsagacity, benevolence, and equity, and that it describes as the common\nfather of all the inhabitants of the earth. If the interest and\nself-love of those whom he favors makes them admire the profound views\nof a God because he has loaded them with benefits to the prejudice of\ntheir brethren, he must appear very unjust, on the other hand, to all\nthose who are the victims of his partiality. A hateful pride alone\ncould induce a few persons to believe that they were, to the exclusion\nof all others, the cherished children of Providence. Blinded by their\nvanity, they do not perceive that it is to give the lie to universal\nand infinite goodness to suppose that God was capable of favoring with\nhis preference some men or nations, to the exclusion of others. All\nought to be equal in his eyes if it is true they are all equally the\nwork of his hands.\n\nIt is, nevertheless, upon partial revelations that are founded all the\nreligions of the world. In the same manner that every individual\nbelieves himself the most important being in the universe, every\nnation entertains the idea that it ought to enjoy the peculiar\ntenderness of the Sovereign of nature, to the exclusion of all the\nothers. If the inhabitants of Hindostan imagine that it was for them\nalone that Brama spoke, the Jews and the Christians have persuaded\nthemselves that it was only for them that the world was created, and\nthat it is solely for them that God was revealed.\n\nBut let us suppose for a moment that God has really made himself\nknown. How could a pure spirit render himself sensible? What form did\nhe take? Of what material organs did he make use in order to speak?\nHow can an infinite Being communicate with those which are finite? I\nmay be assured that, to accommodate himself to the weakness of his\ncreatures, he made use of the agency of some chosen men to announce\nhis wishes to all the rest, and that he filled these agents with his\nspirit, and spoke by their mouths. But can we possibly conceive that\nan infinite Being could unite himself with the finite nature of man?\nHow can I be certain that he who professes to be inspired by the\nDivinity does not promulgate his own reveries or impostures as the\noracles of heaven? What means have I of recognizing whether God really\nspeaks by his voice? The immediate reply will be, that God, to give\nweight to the declarations of those whom he has chosen to be his\ninterpreters, endowed them with a portion of his own omnipotence, and\nthat they wrought miracles to prove their divine mission.\n\nI therefore inquire, What is a miracle? I am told that it is an\noperation contrary to the laws of nature, which God himself has fixed;\nto which I reply, that, according to the ideas I have formed of the\ndivine wisdom, it appears to me impossible that an immutable God can\nchange the wise laws which he himself has established. I thence\nconclude that miracles are impossible, seeing they are incompatible\nwith our ideas of the wisdom and immutability of the Creator of the\nuniverse. Besides, these miracles would be useless to God. If he be\nomnipotent, can he not modify the minds of his creatures according to\nhis own will?\n\nTo convince and to persuade them, he has only to will that they shall\nbe convinced and persuaded. He has only to tell them things that are\nclear and sensible, things that may be demonstrated; and to evidence\nof such a kind they will not fail to give their assent. To do this, he\nwill have no need either of miracles or interpreters; truth alone is\nsufficient to win mankind.\n\nSupposing, nevertheless, the utility and possibility of these\nmiracles, how shall I ascertain whether the wonderful operation which\nI see performed by the interpreter of the Deity be conformable or\ncontrary to the laws of nature? Am I acquainted with all these laws?\nMay not he who speaks to me in the name of the Lord execute by natural\nmeans, though to me unknown, those works which appear altogether\nextraordinary? How shall I assure myself that he does not deceive me?\nDoes not my ignorance of the secrets and shifts of his art expose me\nto be the dupe of an able impostor, who might make use of the name of\nGod to inspire me with respect, and to screen his deception? Thus his\npretended miracles ought to make me suspect him, even though I were a\nwitness of them; but how would the case stand, were these miracles\nsaid to have been performed some thousands of years before my\nexistence? I shall be told that they were attested by a multitude of\nwitnesses; but if I cannot trust to myself when a miracle is\nperforming, how shall I have confidence in others, who may be either\nmore ignorant or more stupid than myself, or who perhaps thought\nthemselves interested in supporting by their testimony tales entirely\ndestitute of reality?\n\nIf, on the contrary, I admit these miracles, what do they prove to me?\nWill they furnish me with a belief that God has made use of his\nomnipotence to convince me of things which are in direct opposition\nto the ideas I have formed of his essence, his nature, and his divine\nperfections? If I be persuaded that God is immutable, a miracle will\nnot force me to believe that he is subject to change. If I be\nconvinced that God is just and good, a miracle will never be\nsufficient to persuade me that he is unjust and wicked. If I possess\nan idea of his wisdom, all the miracles in the world would not\npersuade me that God would act like a madman. Shall I be told that he\nwould consent to perform miracles that destroy his divinity, or that\nare proper only to erase from the minds of men the ideas which they\nought to entertain of his infinite perfections? This, however, is what\nwould happen were God himself to perform, or to grant the power of\nperforming, miracles in favor of a particular revelation. He would, in\nthat case, derange the course of nature, to teach the world that he is\ncapricious, partial, unjust, and cruel; he would make use of his\nomnipotence purposely to convince us that his goodness was\ninsufficient for the welfare of his creatures; he would make a vain\nparade of his power, to hide his inability to convince mankind by a\nsingle act of his will. In short, he would interfere with the eternal\nand immutable laws of nature, to show us that he is subject to change,\nand to announce to mankind some important news, which they had\nhitherto been destitute of, notwithstanding all his goodness.\n\nThus, under whatever point of view we regard revelation, by whatever\nmiracles we may suppose it attested, it will always be in\ncontradiction to the ideas we have of the Deity. They will show us\nthat he acts in an unjust and an arbitrary manner, consulting only his\nown whims in the favors he bestows, and continually changing his\nconduct; that he was unable to communicate all at once to mankind the\nknowledge necessary to their existence, and to give them that degree\nof perfection of which their natures were susceptible. Hence, Madam,\nyou may see that the supposition of a revelation can never be\nreconciled with the infinite goodness, justice, omnipotence, and\nimmutability of the Sovereign of the universe.\n\nThey will not fail to tell you that the Creator of all things, the\nindependent Monarch of nature is the master of his favors; that he\nowes nothing to his creatures; that he can dispose of them as he\npleases, without any injustice, and without their having any right of\ncomplaint; that man is incapable of sounding the profundity of his\ndecrees; and that his justice is not the justice of men. But all these\nanswers, which divines have continually in their mouths, serve only to\naccelerate the destruction of those sublime ideas which they have\ngiven us of the Deity. The result appears to be, that God conducts\nhimself according to the maxims of a fantastic sovereign, who,\nsatisfied in having rewarded some of his favorites, thinks himself\njustified in neglecting the rest of his subjects, and to leave them\ngroaning in the most deplorable misery.\n\nYou must acknowledge, Madam, it is not on such a model that we can\nform a powerful, equitable, and beneficent God, whose omnipotence\nought to enable him to procure happiness to all his subjects, without\nfear of exhausting the treasures of his goodness.\n\nIf we are told that divine justice bears no resemblance to the justice\nof men, I reply, that in this case we are not authorized to say that\nGod is _just_; seeing that by justice it is not possible for us to\nconceive any thing except a similar quality to that called justice by\nthe beings of our own species. If divine justice bears no resemblance\nto human justice,--if, on the contrary, this justice resembles what we\ncall injustice,--then all our ideas confound themselves, and we know\nnot either what we mean or what we say when we affirm that God is\njust. According to human ideas, (which are, however, the only ones\nthat men are possessed of,) justice will always exclude caprice and\npartiality; and never can we prevent ourselves from regarding as\niniquitous and vicious a sovereign who, being both able and willing to\noccupy himself with the happiness of his subjects, should plunge the\ngreatest number of them into misfortune, and reserve his kindness for\nthose to whom his whims have given the preference.\n\nWith respect to telling us that _God owes nothing to his creatures_,\nsuch an atrocious principle is destructive of every idea of justice\nand goodness, and tends visibly to sap the foundation of all religion.\nA God that is just and good owes happiness to every being to whom he\nhas given existence; he ceases to be just and good if he produce them\nonly to render them miserable; and he would be destitute of both\nwisdom and reason were he to give them birth only to be the victims of\nhis caprice. What should we think of a father bringing children into\nthe world for the sole purpose of putting their eyes out and\ntormenting them at his ease?\n\nOn the other hand, all religions are entirely founded upon the\nreciprocal engagements which are supposed to exist between God and his\ncreatures. If God owes nothing to the latter, if he is not under an\nobligation to fulfil his engagements to them when they have fulfilled\ntheirs to him, of what use is religion? What motives can men have to\noffer their homage and worship to the Divinity? Why should they feel\nmuch desire to love or serve a master who can absolve himself of all\nduty towards those who entered his service with an expectation of the\nrecompense promised under such circumstances?\n\nIt is easy to see that the destructive ideas of divine justice which\nare inculcated are only founded upon a fatal prejudice prevalent among\nthe generality of men, leading them to suppose that unlimited power\nmust inevitably exempt its possessor from an accordance with the laws\nof equity; that force can confer the right of committing bad actions;\nand that no one could properly demand an account of his conduct of a\nman sufficiently powerful to carry out all his caprices. These ideas\nare evidently borrowed from the conduct of tyrants, who no sooner\nfind themselves possessed of absolute power than they cease to\nrecognize any other rules than their own fantasies, and imagine that\njustice has no claims upon potentates like them.\n\nIt is upon this frightful model that theologians have formed that God\nwhom they, notwithstanding, assert to be a just being, while, if the\nconduct they attribute to him was true, we should be constrained to\nregard him as the most unjust of tyrants, as the most partial of\nfathers, as the most fantastic of princes, and, in a word, as a being\nthe most to be feared and the least worthy of love that the\nimagination could devise. We are informed that the God who created all\nmen has been unwilling to be known except to a very small number of\nthem, and that while this favored portion exclusively enjoyed the\nbenefits of his kindness, all the others were objects of his anger,\nand were only created by him to be left in blindness for the very\npurpose of punishing them in the most cruel manner. We see these\npernicious characteristics of the Divinity penetrating the entire\neconomy of the Christian religion; we find them in the books which are\npretended to be inspired, and we discover them in the dogmas of\npredestination and grace. In a word, every thing in religion announces\na despotic God, whom his disciples vainly attempt to represent to us\nas just, while all that they declare of him only proves his injustice,\nhis tyrannical caprices, his extravagances, so frequently cruel, and\nhis partiality, so pernicious to the greater portion of the human\nrace. When we exclaim against conduct which, in the eyes of all\nreasonable men, must appear so excessively capricious, it is expected\nthat our mouths will be closed by the assertion that God is\nomnipotent, that it is for him to determine how he will bestow\nbenefits, and that he is under no obligations to any of his creatures.\nHis apologists end by endeavoring to intimidate us with the frightful\nand iniquitous punishments that he reserves for those who are so\naudacious as to murmur.\n\nIt is easy to perceive the futility of these arguments. Power, I do\ncontend, can never confer the right of violating equity. Let a\nsovereign be as powerful as he may, he is not on that account less\nblamable when in rewards and punishments he follows only his caprice.\nIt is true, we may fear him, we may flatter him, we may pay him\nservile homage; but never shall we love him sincerely; never shall we\nserve him faithfully; never shall we look up to him as the model of\njustice and goodness. If those who receive his kindness believe him to\nbe just and good, those who are the objects of his folly and rigor\ncannot prevent themselves from detesting his monstrous iniquity in\ntheir hearts.\n\nIf we be told that we are only as worms of earth relatively to God, or\nthat we are only like a vase in the hands of a potter, I reply in this\ncase, that there can neither be connection nor moral duty between the\ncreature and his Creator; and I shall hence conclude that religion is\nuseless, seeing that a worm of earth can owe nothing to a man who\ncrushes it, and that the vase can owe nothing to the potter that has\nformed it. In the supposition that man is only a worm or an earthen\nvessel in the eyes of the Deity, he would be incapable either of\nserving him, glorifying him, honoring him, or offending him. We are,\nhowever, continually told that man is capable of merit and demerit in\nthe sight of his God, whom he is ordered to love, serve, and worship.\nWe are likewise assured that it was man alone whom the Deity had in\nview in all his works; that it is for him alone the universe was\ncreated; for him alone that the course of nature was so often\nderanged; and, in short, it was with a view of being honored,\ncherished, and glorified by man that God has revealed himself to us.\nAccording to the principles of the Christian religion, God does not\ncease, for a single instant, his occupations for man, this _worm of\nearth_, this _earthen vessel_, which he has formed. Nay, more: man is\nsufficiently powerful to influence the honor, the felicity, and the\nglory of his God; it rests with man to please him or to irritate him,\nto deserve his favor or his hatred, to appease him or to kindle his\nwrath.\n\nDo you not perceive, Madam, the striking contradictions of those\nprinciples which, nevertheless, form the basis of all revealed\nreligions? Indeed, we cannot find one of them that is not erected on\nthe reciprocal influence between God and man, and between man and God.\nOur own species, which are annihilated (if I may use the expression)\nevery time that it becomes necessary to whitewash the Deity from some\nreproachful stain of injustice and partiality,--these miserable\nbeings, to whom it is pretended that God owes nothing, and who, we are\nassured, are unnecessary to him for his own felicity,--the human race,\nwhich is nothing in his eyes, becomes all at once the principal\nperformer on the stage of nature. We find that mankind are necessary\nto support the glory of their Creator; we see them become the sole\nobjects of his care; we behold in them the power to gladden or afflict\nhim; we see them meriting his favor and provoking his wrath. According\nto these contradictory notions concerning the God of the universe, the\nsource of all felicity, is he not really the most wretched of beings?\nWe behold him perpetually exposed to the insults of men, who offend\nhim by their thoughts, their words, their actions, and their neglect\nof duty. They incommode him, they irritate him, by the capriciousness\nof their minds, by their actions, their desires, and even by their\nignorance. If we admit those Christian principles which suppose that\nthe greater portion of the human race excites the fury of the Eternal,\nand that very few of them live in a manner conformable to his views,\nwill it not necessarily result therefrom, that in the immense crowd of\nbeings whom God has created for his glory, only a very small number of\nthem glorify and please him; while all the rest are occupied in vexing\nhim, exciting his wrath, troubling his felicity, deranging the order\nthat he loves, frustrating his designs, and forcing him to change his\nimmutable intentions?\n\nYou are, undoubtedly, surprised at the contradictions to be\nencountered at the very first step we take in examining this religion;\nand I take upon myself to predict that your embarrassment will\nincrease as you proceed therein. If you coolly examine the ideas\npresented to us in the revelation common both to Jews and Christians,\nand contained in the books which they tell us are _sacred_, you will\nfind that the Deity who speaks is always in contradiction with\nhimself; that he becomes his own destroyer, and is perpetually\noccupied in undoing what he has just done, and in repairing his own\nworkmanship, to which, in the first instance, he was incapable of\ngiving that degree of perfection he wished it to possess. He is never\nsatisfied with his own works, and cannot, in spite of his omnipotence,\nbring the human race to the point of perfection he intended. The books\ncontaining the revelation, on which Christianity is founded, every\nwhere display to us a God of goodness in the commission of wickedness;\nan omnipotent God, whose projects unceasingly miscarry; an immutable\nGod, changing his maxims and his conduct; an omniscient God,\ncontinually deceived unawares; a resolute God, yet repenting of his\nmost important actions; a God of wisdom, whose arrangements never\nattain success. He is a great God, who occupies himself with the most\npuerile trifles; an all-sufficient God, yet subject to jealousy; a\npowerful God, yet suspicious, vindictive, and cruel; and a just God,\nyet permitting and prescribing the most atrocious iniquities. In a\nword, he is a perfect God, yet displaying at the same time such\nimperfections and vices that the most despicable of men would blush to\nresemble him.\n\nBehold, Madam, the God whom this religion orders you to adore _in\nspirit and in truth_. I reserve for another letter an analysis of the\nholy books which you are taught to respect as the oracles of heaven. I\nnow perceive for the first time that I have perhaps made too long a\ndissertation; and I doubt not you have already perceived that a system\nbuilt on a basis possessing so little solidity as that of the God whom\nhis devotees raise with one hand and destroy with the other, can have\nno stability attached to it, and can only be regarded as a long tissue\nof errors and contradictions.\n\n                                                I am, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER III.\n\n  An Examination of the Holy Scriptures, of the Nature of the\n  Christian Religion, and of the Proofs upon which Christianity is\n  founded.\n\n\nYou have seen, Madam, in my preceding letter, the incompatible and\ncontradictory ideas which this religion gives us of the Deity. You\nwill have seen that the revelation which is announced to us, instead\nof being the offspring of his goodness and tenderness for the human\nrace, is really only a proof of injustice and partiality, of which a\nGod who is equally just and good would be entirely incapable. Let us\nnow examine whether the ideas suggested to us by these books,\ncontaining the divine oracles, are more rational, more consistent, or\nmore conformable to the divine perfections. Let us see whether the\nstatements related in the Bible, whether the commands prescribed to us\nin the name of God himself, are really worthy of God, and display to\nus the characters of infinite wisdom, goodness, power, and justice.\n\nThese inspired books go back to the origin of the world. Moses, the\nconfidant, the interpreter, the historian of the Deity, makes us (if\nwe may use such an expression) witnesses of the formation of the\nuniverse. He tells us that the Eternal, tired of his inaction, one\nfine day took it into his head to create a world that was necessary to\nhis glory. To effect this, he forms matter out of nothing; a pure\nspirit produces a substance which has no affinity to himself; although\nthis God fills all space with his immensity, yet still he found room\nenough in it to admit the universe, as well as all the material bodies\ncontained therein.\n\nThese, at least, are the ideas which divines wish us to form\nrespecting the creation, if such a thing were possible as that of\npossessing a clear idea of a pure spirit producing matter. But this\ndiscussion is throwing us into metaphysical researches, which I wish\nto avoid. It will be sufficient to you that you may console yourself\nfor not being able to comprehend it, seeing that the most profound\nthinkers, who talk about the creation or the eduction of the world\nfrom nothing, have no ideas on the subject more precise than those\nwhich you form to yourself. As soon, Madam, as you take the trouble to\nreflect thereon, you will find that divines, instead of explaining\nthings, have done nothing but invent words, in order to render them\ndubious, and to confound all our natural conceptions.\n\nI will not, however, tire you by a fastidious display of the blunders\nwhich fill the narrative of Moses, which they announce to us as being\ndictated by the Deity. If we read it with a little attention, we shall\nperceive in every page philosophical and astronomical errors,\nunpardonable in an inspired author, and such as we should consider\nridiculous in any man, who, in the most superficial manner, should\nhave studied and contemplated nature.\n\nYou will find, for example, light created before the sun, although\nthis star is visibly the source of light which communicates itself to\nour globe. You will find the evening and the morning established\nbefore the formation of this same sun, whose presence alone produces\nday, whose absence produces night, and whose different aspects\nconstitute morning and evening. You will there find that the moon is\nspoken of as a body possessing its own light, in a similar manner as\nthe sun possesses it, although this planet is a dark body, and\nreceives its light from the sun. These ignorant blunders are\nsufficient to show you that the Deity who revealed himself to Moses\nwas quite unacquainted with the nature of those substances which he\nhad created out of nothing, and that you at present possess more\ninformation respecting them than was once possessed by the Creator of\nthe world.\n\nI am not ignorant that our divines have an answer always ready to\nthose difficulties which would attack their divine science, and place\ntheir knowledge far below that of Galileo, Descartes, Newton, and even\nbelow that of young people who have scarcely studied the first\nelements of natural philosophy. They will tell us that God, in order\nto render himself intelligible to the savage and ignorant Jews, spoke\nin conformity to their imperfect notions, in the false and incorrect\nlanguage of the vulgar. We must not be imposed upon by this solution,\nwhich our doctors regard as triumphant, and which they so frequently\nemploy when it becomes necessary to justify the Bible against the\nignorance and vulgarities contained therein. We answer them, that a\nGod who knows every thing, and can perform every thing, might by a\nsingle word have rectified the false notions of the people he wished\nto enlighten, and enabled them to know the nature of bodies more\nperfectly than the most able men who have since appeared. If it be\nreplied that revelation is not intended to render men learned, but to\nmake them pious, I answer that revelation was not sent to establish\nfalse notions; that it would be unworthy of God to borrow the language\nof falsehood and ignorance; that the knowledge of nature, so far from\nbeing an injury to piety, is, by the avowal of divines, the most\nproper study to display the greatness of God. They tell us that\nreligion would be unmovable, were it conformable to true knowledge;\nthat we should have no objections to make to the recital of Moses, nor\nto the philosophy of the Holy Scriptures, if we found nothing but what\nwas continually confirmed by experience, astronomy, and the\ndemonstrations of geometry.\n\nTo maintain a contrary opinion, and to say that God is pleased in\nconfounding the knowledge of men and in rendering it useless, is to\npretend that he is pleased with making us ignorant and changeable, and\nthat he condemns the progress of the human mind, although we ought to\nsuppose him the author of it. To pretend that God was obliged in the\nScriptures to conform himself to the language of men, is to pretend\nthat he withdrew his assistance from those he wished to enlighten, and\nthat he was unable of rendering them susceptible of comprehending the\nlanguage of truth. This is an observation not to be lost sight of in\nthe examination of revelation, where we find in each page that God\nexpresses himself in a manner quite unworthy of the Deity. Could not\nan omnipotent God, instead of degrading himself, instead of\ncondescending to speak the language of ignorance, so far enlighten\nthem as to make them understand a language more true, more noble, and\nmore conformable to the ideas which are given us of the Deity? An\nexperienced master by degrees enables his scholars to understand what\nhe wishes to teach them, and a God ought to be able to communicate to\nthem immediately all the knowledge he intended to give them.\n\nHowever, according to Genesis, God, after creating the world, produced\nman from the dust of the earth. In the mean while we are assured that\nhe created him _in his own image_; but what was the image of God? How\ncould man, who is at least partly material, represent a pure spirit,\nwhich excludes all matter?\n\nHow could his imperfect mind be formed on the model of a mind\npossessing all perfection, like that which we suppose in the Creator\nof the universe? What resemblance, what proportion, what affinity\ncould there be between a finite mind united to a body, and the\ninfinite spirit of the Creator? These, doubtless, are great\ndifficulties; hitherto it has been thought impossible to decide them;\nand they will probably for a long time employ the minds of those who\nstrive to understand the incomprehensible meaning of a book which God\nprovided for our instruction.\n\nBut why did God create man? Because he wished to people the universe\nwith intelligent beings, who would render him homage, who should\nwitness his wonders, who should glorify him, who should meditate and\ncontemplate his works, and merit his favors by their submission to his\nlaws.\n\nHere we behold man becoming necessary to the dignity of his God, who\nwithout him would live without being glorified, who would receive no\nhomage, and who would be the melancholy Sovereign of an empire without\nsubjects--a condition not suited to his vanity. I think it useless to\nremark to you what little conformity we find between those ideas and\nsuch as are given us of a self-sufficient being, who, without the\nassistance of any other, is supremely happy. All the characters in\nwhich the Bible portrays the Deity are always borrowed from man, or\nfrom a proud monarch; and we every where find that instead of having\nmade man after his own image, it is man that has always made God after\nthe image of himself, that has conferred on him his own way of\nthinking, his own virtues, and his own vices.\n\nBut did this man whom the Deity has created for his glory faithfully\nfulfil the wishes of his Creator? This subject that he has just\nacquired--will he be obedient? will he render homage to his power?\nwill he execute his will? He has done nothing of the kind. Scarcely is\nhe created when he becomes rebellious to the orders of his Sovereign;\nhe eats a forbidden fruit which God has placed in his way in order to\ntempt him, and by this act draws the divine wrath not only on himself,\nbut on all his posterity. Thus it is that he annihilates at one blow\nthe great projects of the Omnipotent, who had no sooner made man for\nhis glory than he becomes offended with that conduct which he ought to\nhave foreseen.\n\nHere he finds himself obliged to change his projects with regard to\nmankind; he becomes their enemy, and condemns them and the whole of\nthe race (who had not yet the power of sinning) to innumerable\npenalties, to cruel calamities, and to death! What do I say? To\npunishments which death itself shall not terminate! Thus God, who\nwished to be glorified, is not glorified; he seems to have created man\nonly to offend him, that he might afterwards punish the offender.\n\nIn this recital, which is founded on the Bible, can you recognize,\nMadam, an omnipotent God, whose orders are always accomplished, and\nwhose projects are all necessarily executed? In a God who tempts us,\nor who permits us to be tempted, do you behold a being of beneficence\nand sincerity? In a God who punishes the being he has tempted, or\nsubjected to temptation, do you perceive any equity? In a God who\nextends his vengeance even to those who have not sinned, do you behold\nany shadow of justice? In a God who is irritated at what he knew must\nnecessarily happen, can you imagine any foresight? In the rigorous\npunishments by which this God is destined to avenge himself of his\nfeeble creatures, both in this world and the next, can you perceive\nthe least appearance of goodness?\n\nIt is, however, this history, or rather this fable, on which is\nfounded the whole edifice of the Christian religion.\n\nIf the first man had not been disobedient, the human race had not been\nthe object of the divine wrath, and would have had no need of a\nRedeemer. If this God, who knows all things, foresees all things, and\npossesses all power, had prevented or foreseen the fault of Adam, it\nwould not have been necessary for God to sacrifice his own innocent\nSon to appease his fury. Mankind, for whom he created the universe,\nwould then have been always happy; they would not have incurred the\ndispleasure of that Deity who demanded their adoration. In a word, if\nthis apple had not been imprudently eaten by Adam and his spouse,\nmankind would not have suffered so much misery, man would have enjoyed\nwithout interruption the immortal happiness to which God had destined\nhim, and the views of Providence towards his creatures would not have\nbeen frustrated.\n\nIt would be useless to make reflections on notions so whimsical, so\ncontrary to the wisdom, the power, and the justice of the Deity. It is\ndoing quite enough to compare the different objects which the Bible\npresents to us, to perceive their inutility, absurdities, and\ncontradictions. We there see, continually, a wise God conducting\nhimself like a madman. He defeats his own projects that he may\nafterwards repair them, repents of what he has done, acts as if he had\nforeseen nothing, and is forced to permit proceedings which his\nomnipotence could not prevent. In the writings revealed by this God,\nhe appears occupied only in blackening his own character, degrading\nhimself, vilifying himself, even in the eyes of men whom he would\nexcite to worship him and pay him homage; overturning and confounding\nthe minds of those whom he had designed to enlighten. What has just\nbeen said might suffice to undeceive us with respect to a book which\nwould pass better as being intended to destroy the idea of a Deity,\nthan as one containing the oracles dictated and revealed by him.\nNothing but a heap of absurdities could possibly result from\nprinciples so false and irrational; nevertheless, let us take another\nglance at the principal objects which this divine work continually\noffers to our consideration. Let us pass on to the Deluge. The holy\nbooks tell us, that in spite of the will of the Almighty, the whole\nhuman race, who had already been punished by infirmities, accidents,\nand death, continued to give themselves up to the most unaccountable\ndepravity. God becomes irritated, and repents having created them.\nDoubtless he could not have foreseen this depravity; yet, rather than\nchange the wicked disposition of their hearts, which he holds in his\nown hands, he performs the most surprising, the most impossible of\nmiracles. He at once drowns all the inhabitants, with the exception of\nsome favorites, whom he destines to re-people the earth with a chosen\nrace, that will render themselves more agreeable to their God. But\ndoes the Almighty succeed in this new project? The chosen race, saved\nfrom the waters of the deluge, on the wreck of the earth's\ndestruction, begin again to offend the Sovereign of nature, abandon\nthemselves to new crimes, give themselves up to idolatry, and\nforgetting the recent effects of celestial vengeance, seem intent only\non provoking heaven by their wickedness. In order to provide a remedy,\nGod chooses for his favorite the idolater Abraham. To him he discovers\nhimself; he orders him to renounce the worship of his fathers, and\nembrace a new religion. To guarantee this covenant, the Sovereign of\nnature prescribes a melancholy, ridiculous, and whimsical ceremony, to\nthe observance of which a God of wisdom attaches his favors. The\nposterity of this chosen man are consequently to enjoy, for\neverlasting, the greatest advantages; they will always be the most\npartial objects of tenderness, with the Almighty; they will be happier\nthan all other nations, whom the Deity will abandon to occupy himself\nonly for them.\n\nThese solemn promises, however, have not prevented the race of Abraham\nfrom becoming the slaves of a vile nation, that was detested by the\nEternal; his dear friends experienced the most cruel treatment on the\npart of the Egyptians. God could not guarantee them from the\nmisfortune that had befallen them; but in order to free them again, he\nraised up to them a liberator, a chief, who performed the most\nastonishing miracles. At the voice of Moses all nature is confounded;\nGod employs him to declare his will; yet he who could create and\nannihilate the world could not subdue Pharaoh. The obstinacy of this\nprince defeats, in ten successive trials, the divine omnipotence, of\nwhich Moses is the depositary. After having vainly attempted to\novercome a monarch whose heart God had been pleased to harden, God has\nrecourse to the most ordinary method of rescuing his people; he tells\nthem to run off, after having first counselled them to rob the\nEgyptians. The fugitives are pursued; but God, who protects these\nrobbers, orders the sea to swallow up the miserable people who had the\ntemerity to run after their property.\n\nThe Deity would, doubtless, have reason to be satisfied with the\nconduct of a people that he had just delivered by such a great number\nof miracles. Alas! neither Moses nor the Almighty could succeed in\npersuading this obstinate people to abandon the false gods of that\ncountry where they had been so miserable; they preferred them to the\nliving God who had just saved them. All the miracles which the Eternal\nwas daily performing in favor of Israel could not overcome their\nstubbornness, which was still more inconceivable and wonderful than\nthe greatest miracles. These wonders, which are now extolled as\nconvincing proofs of the divine mission of Moses, were by the\nconfession of this same Moses, who has himself transmitted us the\naccounts, incapable of convincing the people who were witnesses of\nthem, and never produced the good effects which the Deity proposed to\nhimself in performing them.\n\nThe credulity, the obstinacy, the continual depravity of the Jews,\nMadam, are the most indubitable proofs of the falsity of the miracles\nof Moses, as well as those of all his successors, to whom the\nScriptures attribute a supernatural power. If, in the face of these\nfacts, it be pretended that these miracles are attested, we shall be\ncompelled, at least, to agree that, according to the Bible account,\nthey have been entirely useless, that the Deity has been constantly\nbaffled in all his projects, and that he could never make of the\nHebrews a people submissive to his will.\n\nWe find, however, God continues obstinately employed to render his\npeople worthy of him; he does not lose sight of them for a moment; he\nsacrifices whole nations to them, and sanctions their rapine,\nviolence, treason, murder, and usurpation. In a word, he permits them\nto do any thing to obtain his ends. He is continually sending them\nchiefs, prophets, and wonderful men, who try in vain to bring them to\ntheir duty. The whole history of the Old Testament displays nothing\nbut the vain efforts of God to vanquish the obstinacy of his people.\nTo succeed in this, he employs kindnesses, miracles, and severity.\nSometimes he delivers up to them whole nations, to be hated, pillaged,\nand exterminated; at other times he permits these same nations to\nexercise over his favorite people the greatest of cruelties. He\ndelivers them into the hands of their enemies, who are likewise the\nenemies of God himself. Idolatrous nations become masters of the Jews,\nwho are left to feel the insults, the contempt, and the most\nunheard-of severities, and are sometimes compelled to sacrifice to\nidols, and to violate the law of their God. The race of Abraham\nbecomes the prey of impious nations. The Assyrians, Persians, Greeks,\nand Romans make them successively undergo the most cruel treatment and\nsuffer the most bloody outrages, and God even permits his temple to be\npolluted in order to punish the Jews.\n\nTo terminate, at length, the troubles of his cherished people, the\npure Spirit that created the universe sends his own Son. It is said\nthat he had already been announced by his prophets, though this was\ncertainly done in a manner admirably adapted to prevent his being\nknown on his arrival. This Son of God becomes a man through his\nkindness for the Jews, whom he came to liberate, to enlighten, and to\nrender the most happy of mortals. Being clothed with divine\nomnipotence, he performs the most astonishing miracles, which do not,\nhowever, convince the Jews. He can do every thing but convert them.\nInstead of converting and liberating the Jews, he is himself\ncompelled, notwithstanding all his miracles, to undergo the most\ninfamous of punishments, and to terminate his life like a common\nmalefactor. God is condemned to death by the people he came to save.\nThe Eternal hardened and blinded those among whom he sent his own\nSon; he did not foresee that this Son would be rejected. What do I\nsay? He managed matters in such a way as not to be recognized, and\ntook such steps that his favorite people derived no benefit from the\ncoming of the Messiah. In a word, the Deity seems to have taken the\ngreatest care that his projects, so favorable to the Jews, should be\nnullified and rendered unprofitable!\n\nWhen we expostulate against a conduct so strange and so unworthy of\nthe Deity, we are told it was necessary for every thing to take place\nin such a manner, for the accomplishment of prophecies which had\nannounced that the Messiah should be disowned, rejected, and put to\ndeath. But why did God, who knows all, and who foresaw the fate of his\ndear Son, form the project of sending him among the Jews, to whom he\nmust have known that his mission would be useless? Would it not have\nbeen easier neither to announce him nor send him? Would it not have\nbeen more conformable to divine omnipotence to spare himself the\ntrouble of so many miracles, so many prophecies, so much useless\nlabor, so much wrath, and so many sufferings to his own Son, by giving\nat once to the human race that degree of perfection he intended for\nthem?\n\nWe are told it was necessary that the Deity should have a victim; that\nto repair the fault of the first man, no expedient would be sufficient\nbut the death of another God; that the only God of the universe could\nnot be appeased but by the blood of his own Son. I reply, in the first\nplace, that God had only to prevent the first man from committing a\nfault; that this would have spared him much chagrin and sorrow, and\nsaved the life of his dear Son. I reply, likewise, that man is\nincapable of offending God unless God either permitted it or consented\nto it. I shall not examine how it is possible for God to have a Son,\nwho, being as much a God as himself, can be subject to death. I reply,\nalso, that it is impossible to perceive such a grave fault and sin in\ntaking an apple, and that we can find very little proportion between\nthe crime committed against the Deity by eating an apple and his Son's\ndeath.\n\nI know well enough I shall be told that these are all mysteries; but\nI, in my turn, shall reply, that mysteries are imposing words,\nimagined by men who know not how to get themselves out of the\nlabyrinth into which their false reasonings and senseless principles\nhave once plunged them.\n\nBe this as it may, we are assured that the Messiah, or the deliverer\nof the Jews, had been clearly predicted and described by the\nprophecies contained in the Old Testament. In this case, I demand why\nthe Jews have disowned this wonderful man, this God whom God sent to\nthem. They answer me, that the incredulity of the Jews was likewise\npredicted, and that divers inspired writers had announced the death of\nthe Son of God. To which I reply, that a sensible God ought not to\nhave sent him under such circumstances, that an omnipotent God ought\nto have adopted measures more efficacious and certain to bring his\npeople into the way in which he wished them to go. If he wished not to\nconvert and liberate the Jews, it was quite useless to send his Son\namong them, and thereby expose him to a death that was both certain\nand foreseen.\n\nThey will not fail to tell me, that in the end the divine patience\nbecame tired of the excesses of the Jews; that the immutable God, who\nhad sworn an eternal alliance with the race of Abraham, wished at\nlength to break the treaty, which he had, however, assured them should\nlast forever. It is pretended that God had determined to reject the\nHebrew nation, in order to adopt the Gentiles, whom he had hated and\ndespised nearly four thousand years. I reply, that this discourse is\nvery little conformable to the ideas we ought to have of a God who\n_changes not_, whose mercy is _infinite_, and whose goodness is\n_inexhaustible_. I shall tell them, that in this case the Messiah\nannounced by the Jewish prophets was destined for the Jews, and that\nhe ought to have been their liberator, instead of destroying their\nworship and their religion. If it be possible to unravel any thing in\nthese obscure, enigmatical, and symbolical oracles of the prophets of\nJudea, as we find them in the Bible,--if there be any means of\nguessing the meaning of the obscure riddles, which have been decorated\nwith the pompous name of prophecies, we shall perceive that the\ninspired writers, when they are in a good humor, always promised the\nJews a man that will redress their grievances, restore the kingdom of\nJudah, and not one that should destroy the religion of Moses. If it\nwere for the Gentiles that the Messiah should come, he is no longer\nthe Messiah promised to the Jews and announced by their prophets. If\nJesus be the Messiah of the Jews, he could not be the destroyer of\ntheir nation.\n\nShould I be told that Jesus himself declared that he came to fulfil\nthe law of Moses, and not to abolish it, I ask why Christians do not\nobserve the law of the Jews?\n\nThus, in whatever light we regard Jesus Christ, we perceive that he\ncould not be the man whom the prophets have predicted, since it is\nevident that he came only to destroy the religion of the Jews, which,\nthough instituted by God himself, had nevertheless become disagreeable\nto him. If this inconstant God, who was wearied with the worship of\nthe Jews, had at length repented of his injustice towards the\nGentiles, it was to them that he ought to have sent his Son. By acting\nin this way he would at least have saved his old friends from a\nfrightful _deicide_, which he forced them to commit, because they were\nnot able to recognize the God he sent amongst them. Besides, the Jews\nwere very pardonable in not acknowledging their expected Messiah in an\nartisan of Galilee, who was destitute of all the characteristics which\nthe prophets had related, and during whose lifetime his\nfellow-citizens were neither liberated nor happy.\n\nWe are told that he performed miracles. He healed the sick, caused the\nlame to walk, gave sight to the blind, and raised the dead. At length\nhe accomplished his own resurrection. It might be so believed; yet he\nhas visibly failed in that miracle for which alone he came upon earth.\nHe was never able either to persuade or to convert the Jews, who\nwitnessed all the daily wonders that he performed. Notwithstanding\nthose prodigies, they placed him ignominiously on the cross. In spite\nof his divine power, he was incapable of escaping punishment. He\nwished to die, to render the Jews culpable, and to have the pleasure\nof rising again the third day, in order to confound the ingratitude\nand obstinacy of his fellow-citizens. What is the result? Did his\nfellow-citizens concede to this great miracle, and have they at length\nacknowledged him? Far from it; they never saw him. The Son of God, who\narose from the dead in secrecy, showed himself only to his adherents.\nThey alone pretend to have conversed with him; they alone have\nfurnished us with the particulars of his life and miracles; and yet by\nsuch suspicious testimony they wish to convince us of the divinity of\nhis mission eighteen hundred years after the event, although he could\nnot convince his contemporaries, the Jews.\n\nWe are then told that many Jews have been converted to Jesus Christ;\nthat after his death many others were converted; that the witnesses\nof the life and miracles of the Son of God have sealed their testimony\nwith their blood; that men will not die to attest falsehood; that by a\nvisible effect of the divine power, the people of a great part of the\nearth have adopted Christianity, and still persist in the belief of\nthis divine religion.\n\nIn all this I perceive nothing like a miracle. I see nothing but what\nis conformable to the ordinary progress of the human mind. An\nenthusiast, a dexterous impostor, a crafty juggler, can easily find\nadherents in a stupid, ignorant, and superstitious populace. These\nfollowers, captivated by counsels, or seduced by promises, consent to\nquit a painful and laborious life, to follow a man who gives them to\nunderstand that he will make them _fishers of men_; that is to say, he\nwill enable them to subsist by his cunning tricks, at the expense of\nthe multitude who are always credulous. The juggler, with the\nassistance of his remedies, can perform cures which seem miraculous to\nignorant spectators. These simple creatures immediately regard him as\na supernatural being. He adopts this opinion himself, and confirms the\nhigh notions which his partisans have formed respecting him. He feels\nhimself interested in maintaining this opinion among his sectaries,\nand finds out the secret of exciting their enthusiasm. To accomplish\nthis point, our empiric becomes a preacher; he makes use of riddles,\nobscure sentences, and parables to the multitude, that always admire\nwhat they do not understand. To render himself more agreeable to the\npeople, he declaims among poor, ignorant, foolish men, against the\nrich, the great, the learned; but above all, against the _priests_,\nwho in all ages have been _avaricious_, _imperious_, _uncharitable_,\nand _burdensome_ to the people. If these discourses be eagerly\nreceived among the vulgar, who are always morose, envious, and\njealous, they displease all those who see themselves the objects of\nthe invective and satire of the popular preacher.\n\nThey consequently wish to check his progress, they lay snares for him,\nthey seek to surprise him in a fault, in order that they may unmask\nhim and have their revenge. By dint of imposture, he outwits them;\nyet, in consequence of his miracles and illusions, he at length\ndiscovers himself. He is then seized and punished, and none of his\nadherents abide by him, except a few idiots, that nothing can\nundeceive; none but partisans, accustomed to lead with him a life of\nidleness; none but dexterous knaves, who wish to continue their\nimpositions on the public, by deceptions similar to those of their old\nmaster, by obscure, unconnected, confused, and fanatical harangues,\nand by declamations against _magistrates_ and _priests_. These, who\nhave the power in their own hands, finish by persecuting them,\nimprisoning them, flogging them, chastising them, and putting them to\ndeath. Poor wretches, habituated to poverty, undergo all these\nsufferings with a fortitude which we frequently meet with in\nmalefactors. In some we find their courage fortified by the zeal of\nfanaticism. This fortitude surprises, agitates, excites pity, and\nirritates the spectators against those who torment men whose constancy\nmakes them looked upon as being innocent, who, it is supposed, may\npossibly be right, and for whom compassion likewise interests itself.\nIt is thus that enthusiasm is propagated, and that persecution always\naugments the number of the partisans of those who are persecuted.\n\nI shall leave to you, Madam, the trouble of applying the history of\nour juggler, and his adherents, to that of the founder, the apostles,\nand the martyrs of the Christian religion.\n\nWith whatever art they have written the life of Jesus Christ, which we\nhold only from his apostles, or their disciples, it furnishes a\nsufficiency of materials on which to found our conjectures. I shall\nonly observe to you, that the Jewish nation was remarkable for its\ncredulity; that the companions of Jesus were chosen from among the\ndregs of the people; that Jesus always gave a preference to the\npopulace, with whom he wished, undoubtedly, to form a rampart against\nthe _priests_; and that, at last, Jesus was seized immediately after\nthe most splendid of his miracles. We see him put to death immediately\nafter the resurrection of Lazarus, which, even according to the gospel\naccount, bears the most evident characters of fraud, which are visible\nto every one who examines it without prejudice.\n\nI imagine, Madam, that what I have just stated will suffice to show\nyou what opinion you ought to entertain respecting the founder of\nChristianity and his first sectaries. These have been either dupes or\nfanatics, who permitted themselves to be seduced by deceptions, and by\ndiscourses conformable to their desires, or by dexterous impostors,\nwho knew how to make the best of the tricks of their old master, to\nwhom they have become such able successors. In this way did they\nestablish a religion which enabled them to live at the people's\nexpense, and which still maintains in abundance those we pay, at such\na high rate, for transmitting from father to son the fables, visions,\nand wonders which were born and nursed in Judea. The propagation of\nthe Christian faith, and the constancy of their martyrs, have nothing\nsurprising in them. The people flock after all those that show them\nwonders, and receive without reasoning on it every thing that is told\nthem. They transmit to their children the tales they have heard\nrelated, and by degrees these opinions are adopted by kings, by the\ngreat, and even by the learned.\n\nAs for the martyrs, their constancy has nothing supernatural in it.\nThe first Christians, as well as all new sectaries, were treated, by\nthe Jews and pagans, as disturbers of the public peace. They were\nalready sufficiently intoxicated with the fanaticism with which their\nreligion inspired them, and were persuaded that God held himself in\nreadiness to crown them, and to receive them into his eternal\ndwelling. In a word, seeing the heavens opened, and being convinced\nthat the end of the world was approaching, it is not surprising that\nthey had courage to set punishment at defiance, to endure it with\nconstancy, and to despise death. To these motives, founded on their\nreligious opinions, many others were added, which are always of such a\nnature as to operate strongly upon the minds of men. Those who, as\nChristians, were imprisoned and ill-treated on account of their faith,\nwere visited, consoled, encouraged, honored, and loaded with\nkindnesses by their brethren, who took care of and succored them\nduring their detention, and who almost adored them after their death.\nThose, on the other hand, who displayed weakness, were despised and\ndetested, and when they gave way to repentance, they were compelled to\nundergo a rigorous penitence, which lasted as long as they lived. Thus\nwere the most powerful motives united to inspire the martyrs with\ncourage; and this courage has nothing more supernatural about it than\nthat which determines us daily to encounter the most perilous dangers,\nthrough the fear of dishonoring ourselves in the eyes of our\nfellow-citizens. Cowardice would expose us to infamy all the rest of\nour days. There is nothing miraculous in the constancy of a man to\nwhom an offer is made, on the one hand, of eternal happiness and the\nhighest honors, and who, on the other hand, sees himself menaced with\nhatred, contempt, and the most lasting regret.\n\nYou perceive, then, Madam, that nothing can be easier than to\noverthrow the proofs by which Christian doctors establish the\nrevelation which they pretend is so well authenticated. Miracles,\nmartyrs, and prophecies prove nothing.\n\nWere all the wonders true that are related in the Old and New\nTestament, they would afford no proof in favor of divine omnipotence,\nbut, on the contrary, would prove the inability under which the Deity\nhas continually labored, of convincing mankind of the truths he wished\nto announce to them. On the other hand, supposing these miracles to\nhave produced all the effects which the Deity had a right to expect\nfrom them, we have no longer any reason to believe them, except on the\ntradition and recitals of others, which are often suspicious, faulty,\nand exaggerated. The miracles of Moses are attested only by Moses, or\nby Jewish writers interested in making them believed by the people\nthey wished to govern. The miracles of Jesus are attested only by his\ndisciples, who sought to obtain adherents, in relating to a credulous\npeople prodigies to which they pretended to have been witnesses, or\nwhich some of them, perhaps, believed they had really seen. All those\nwho deceive mankind are not always cheats; they are frequently\ndeceived by those who are knaves in reality. Besides, I believe I have\nsufficiently proved, that miracles are repugnant to the essence of an\nimmutable God, as well as to his wisdom, which will not permit him to\nalter the wise laws he has himself established. In short, miracles are\nuseless, since those related in Scripture have not produced the\neffects which God expected from them.\n\nThe proof of the Christian religion taken from prophecy has no better\nfoundation. Whoever will examine without prejudice these oracles\npretended to be divine will find only an ambiguous, unintelligible,\nabsurd, and unconnected jargon, entirely unworthy of a God who\nintended to display his prescience, and to instruct his people with\nregard to future events. There does not exist in the Holy Scriptures a\nsingle prophecy sufficiently precise to be literally applied to Jesus\nChrist. To convince yourself of this truth, ask the most learned of\nour doctors which are the formal prophecies wherein they have the\nhappiness to discover the Messiah. You will then perceive that it is\nonly by the aid of forced explanations, figures, parables, and\nmystical interpretations, by which they are enabled to bring forward\nany thing sensible and applicable to the _god-made-man_ whom they tell\nus to adore. It would seem as if the Deity had made predictions only\nthat we might understand nothing about them.\n\nIn these equivocal oracles, whose meaning it is impossible to\npenetrate, we find nothing but the language of intoxication,\nfanaticism, and delirium. When we fancy we have found something\nintelligible, it is easy to perceive that the prophets intended to\nspeak of events that took place in their own age, or of personages who\nhad preceded them. It is thus that our doctors apply gratuitously to\nChrist prophecies or rather narratives of what happened respecting\nDavid, Solomon, Cyrus, &c.\n\nWe imagine we see the chastisement of the Jewish people announced in\nrecitals where it is evident the only matter in question was the\nBabylonish captivity. In this event, so long prior to Jesus Christ,\nthey have imagined finding a prediction of the dispersion of the Jews,\nsupposed to be a visible punishment for their _deicide_, and which\nthey now wish to pass off as an indubitable proof of the truth of\nChristianity.\n\nIt is not, then, astonishing that the ancient and modern Jews do not\nsee in the prophets what our doctors teach us, and what they\nthemselves imagine they have seen. Jesus himself has not been more\nhappy in his predictions than his predecessors. In the gospel he\nannounces to his disciples in the most formal manner the destruction\nof the world and the last judgment, as events that were at hand, and\nwhich must take place before the existing generation had passed away.\nYet the world still endures, and appears in no danger of finishing. It\nis true, our doctors pretend that, in the prediction of Jesus Christ,\nhe spoke of the ruin of Jerusalem by Vespasian and Titus; but none but\nthose who have not read the gospel would submit to such a change, or\nsatisfy themselves with such an evasion. Besides, in adopting it we\nmust confess at least that the Son of God himself was unable to\nprophesy with greater precision than his obscure predecessors.\n\nIndeed, at every page of these sacred books, which we are assured were\ninspired by God himself, this God seems to have made a revelation only\nto conceal himself. He does not speak but to be misunderstood. He\nannounces his oracles in such a way only that we can neither\ncomprehend them nor make any application of them. He performs miracles\nonly to make unbelievers. He manifests himself to mankind only to\nstupefy their judgment and bewilder the reason he has bestowed on\nthem. The Bible continually represents God to us as a seducer, an\nenticer, a suspicious tyrant, who knows not what kind of conduct to\nobserve with respect to his subjects; who amuses himself by laying\nsnares for his creatures, and who tries them that he may have the\npleasure of inflicting a punishment for yielding to his temptations.\nThis God is occupied only in building to destroy, in demolishing to\nrebuild. Like a child disgusted with its playthings, he is continually\nundoing what he has done, and breaking what was the object of his\ndesires. We find no foresight, no constancy, no consistency in his\nconduct; no connection, no clearness in his discourses. When he\nperforms any thing, he sometimes approves what he has done, and at\nother times repents of it. He irritates and vexes himself with what he\nhas permitted to be done, and, in spite of his infinite power, he\nsuffers man to offend him, and consents to let Satan, his creature,\nderange all his projects. In a word, the revelations of the Christians\nand Jews seem to have been imagined only to render uncertain and to\nannihilate the qualities attributed to the Deity, and which are\ndeclared to constitute his essence. The whole Scripture, the entire\nsystem of the Christian religion, appears to be founded only on the\nincapability of God, who was unable to render the human race as wise,\nas good, and as happy as he wished them. The death of his innocent\nSon, who was immolated to his vengeance, is entirely useless for the\nmost numerous portion of the earth's inhabitants; almost the whole\nhuman race, in spite of the continual efforts of the Deity, continue\nto offend him, to frustrate his designs, resist his will, and to\npersevere in their wickedness.\n\nIt is on notions so fatal, so contradictory, and so unworthy of a God\nwho is just, wise, and good, of a God that is rational, independent,\nimmutable, and omnipotent, on whom the Christian religion is founded,\nand which religion is said to be established forever by God, who,\nnevertheless, became disgusted with the religion of the Jews, with\nwhom he had made and sworn an eternal covenant.\n\nTime must prove whether God be more constant and faithful in\nfulfilling his engagements with the Christians than he has been to\nfulfil those he made with Abraham and his posterity. I confess, Madam,\nthat his past conduct alarms me as to what he may finally perform. If\nhe himself acknowledged by the mouth of Ezekiel that the laws he had\ngiven to the Jews _were not good_, he may very possibly, some day or\nother, find fault with those which he has given to Christians.\n\nOur priests themselves seem to partake of my suspicions, and to fear\nthat God will be wearied of that protection which he has so long\ngranted to his church. The inquietudes which they evince, the efforts\nwhich they make to hinder the civilization of the world, the\npersecutions which they raise against all those who contradict them,\nseem to prove that they mistrust the promises of Jesus Christ, and\nthat they are not certainly convinced of the eternal durability of a\nreligion which does not appear to them divine, but because it gives\nthem the right to command like gods over their fellow-citizens. They\nwould undoubtedly consider the destruction of their empire a very\ngrievous thing; but yet if the sovereigns of the earth and their\npeople should once grow weary of the sacerdotal yoke, we may be sure\nthe Sovereign of heaven would not require a longer time to become\nequally disgusted.\n\nHowever this may be, Madam, I venture to hope the perusal of this\nletter will fully undeceive you of a blind veneration for books which\nare called _divine_, although they appear as if invented to degrade\nand destroy the God who is asserted to be their author. My first\nletter, I feel confident, enabled you to perceive that the dogmas\nestablished by these same books, or subsequently fabricated to justify\nthe ideas thus given of God, are not less contrary to all notions of a\nDeity infinitely perfect. A system which in the outset is based upon\nfalse principles can never become any thing else than a mass of\nfalsehoods.\n\n                                                I am, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER IV.\n\n  Of the fundamental Dogmas of the Christian Religion.\n\n\nYou are aware, Madam, that our theological doctors pretend these\nrevealed books, which I summarily examined in my preceding letter, do\nnot include a single word that was not inspired by the Spirit of God.\nWhat I have already said to you is sufficient to show that in setting\nout with this supposition, the Divinity has formed a work the most\nshapeless, imperfect, contradictory, and unintelligible which ever\nexisted; a work, in a word, of which any man of sense would blush with\nshame to be the author. If any prophecy hath verified itself for the\nChristians, it is that of Isaiah, which saith, \"Hearing ye shall hear,\nbut shall not understand.\" But in this case we reply that it was\nsufficiently useless to speak not to be comprehended; to reveal _that_\nwhich cannot be comprehended is to reveal _nothing_.\n\nWe need not, then, be surprised if the Christians, notwithstanding the\nrevelation of which they assure us they have been the favorites, have\nno precise ideas either of the Divinity, or of his will, or the way in\nwhich his oracles are to be interpreted. The book from which they\nshould be able to do so serves only to confound the simplest notions,\nto throw them into the greatest incertitude, and create eternal\ndisputations. If it was the project of the Divinity, it would,\nwithout doubt, be attended with perfect success. The teachers of\nChristianity never agree on the manner in which they are to understand\nthe truths that God has given himself the trouble to reveal; all the\nefforts which they have employed to this time have not yet been\ncapable of making any thing clear, and the dogmas which they have\nsuccessively invented have been insufficient to justify to the\nunderstanding of one man of good sense the conduct of an infinitely\nperfect Being.\n\nHence, many among them, perceiving the inconveniences which would\nresult from the reading of the holy books, have carefully kept them\nout of the hands of the vulgar and illiterate; for they plainly\nforesaw that if they were read by such they would necessarily bring on\nthemselves reproach, since it would never fail that every honest man\nof good sense would discover in those books only a crowd of\nabsurdities. Thus the oracles of God are not even made for those for\nwhom they are addressed; it is requisite to be initiated in the\nmysteries of a priesthood, to have the privilege of discerning in the\nholy writings the light which the Divinity destined to all his dear\nchildren. But are the theologians themselves able to make plain the\ndifficulties which the sacred books present in every page? By\nmeditating on the mysteries which they contain, have they given us\nideas more plain of the intentions of the Divinity? No; without doubt\nthey explain one mystery by citing another; they scatter new\nobscurities on previous obscurities; rarely do they agree among\nthemselves; and when by chance their opinions coincide, _we_ are not\nmore enlightened, nor is our judgment more convinced; on the other\nhand, our reason is the more confounded.\n\nIf they do agree on some point, it is only to tell us that human\nreason, of which God is the author, is depraved; but what is the\npurport of this coincidence in their opinions, if it be not to tax the\nDeity with imbecility, injustice, and malignity? For why should God,\nin creating a reasonable being, not have given him an understanding\nwhich nothing could corrupt? They reply to us by saying \"that the\nreason of man is necessarily limited; that perfection could not be the\nportion of a _creature_; that the designs of God are not like those of\nman.\" But, in this case, why should the Divinity be offended by the\nnecessary imperfections which he discovers in his creatures? How can a\njust God require that our mind must admit what it was not made to\ncomprehend? Can he who is above our reason be understood by us, whose\nreason is so limited? If God be infinite, how can a finite creature\nreason respecting him? If the mysteries and hidden designs of the\nDivinity are of such a nature as not to be comprehended by man, what\ngood can we derive from their investigation? Had God designed that we\nshould occupy our thoughts with his purposes, would he not have given\nus an understanding proportionate to the things he wished us to\npenetrate?\n\nYou see, then, Madam, that in depressing our reason, in supposing it\ncorrupted, our priests, at the same time, annihilate even the\nnecessity of religion, which cannot be either useful or important to\nus, if above our comprehension. They do more in supposing human reason\ndepraved; they accuse God of injustice, in requiring that our reason\nshould conceive what cannot be conceived. They accuse him of\nimbecility in not rendering this reason more perfect. In a word, in\ndegrading man they degrade God, and rob him of those attributes which\ncompose his essence. Would you call him a just and good parent, who,\nwishing that his children should walk by an obscure route, filled with\ndifficulties, would only give them for their conduct a light too weak\nto find their way, and to avoid the continual dangers by which they\nare surrounded? Should you consider that the father had adequately\nprovided for their security by giving them in writing unintelligible\ninstructions, which they could not decipher by the weak light he had\ngiven them?\n\nOur spiritual directors will not fail to tell us that the corruption\nof reason and the weakness of the human understanding are the\nconsequences of sin. But why has man become sinful? How has the good\nGod permitted his dear children, for whom he created the universe, and\nof whom he exacts obedience, to offend him, and thereby extinguish,\nor, at least, weaken the light he had given them? On the other hand,\nthe reason of Adam ought to be, without doubt, completely perfect\nbefore his fall. In this case, why did it not prevent that fall and\nits consequences? Was the reason of Adam corrupted even beforehand by\nincurring the wrath of his God? Was it depraved before he had done any\nthing to deprave it?\n\nTo justify this strange conduct of Providence, to clear him from\npassing as the author of sin, to save him the ridicule of being the\ncause or the accomplice of offences which he did against himself, the\ntheologians have imagined a _being_ subordinate to the divine power.\nIt is the secondary being they make the author of all the evil which\nis committed in the universe. In the impossibility of reconciling the\ncontinual disorders of which the world is the theatre with the\npurposes of a Deity replete with goodness, the Creator and Preserver\nof the universe, who delights in order, and who seeks only the\nhappiness of his creatures, they have trumped up a destructive genius,\nimbued with wickedness, who conspires to render men miserable, and to\noverthrow the beneficent views of the Eternal. This bad and perverse\nbeing they call _Satan_, the _Devil_, the _Evil One_; and we see him\nplay a great game in all the religions of the world, the founders of\nwhich have found in the impotence of Deity the sources of both good\nand evil. By the aid of this imaginary being they have been enabled to\nresolve all their difficulties; yet they could not foresee that this\ninvention, which went to annihilate or abridge the power of Deity, was\na system filled with palpable contradictions, and that if the Devil\nwere really the author of sin, it would be he, in all justice, who\nought to undergo all its punishment.\n\nIf God is the author of all, it is he who created the Devil; if the\nDevil is wicked, if he strives to counteract the projects of the\nDivinity, it is the Divinity who has allowed the overthrow of his\nprojects, or who has not had sufficient authority to prevent the Devil\nfrom exercising his power. If God had wished that the Devil should not\nhave existed, the Devil would not have existed. God could annihilate\nhim at one word, or, at least, God could change his disposition if\ninjurious to us, and contrary to the projects of a beneficent\nProvidence. Since, then, the Devil does exist, and does such\nmarvellous things as are attributed to him, we are compelled to\nconclude that the Divinity has found it good that he should exist and\nagitate, as he does, all his works by a perpetual interruption and\nperversion of his designs.\n\nThus, Madam, the invention of the Devil does not remedy the evil; on\nthe contrary, it but entangles the priests more and more. By placing\nto Satan's account all the evil which he commits in the world, they\nexculpate the Deity of nothing; all the power with which they have\nsupposed the Devil invested is taken from that assigned to the\nDivinity; and you know very well that according to the notions of the\nChristian religion, the Devil has more adherents than God himself;\nthey are always stirring their fellow-creatures up to revolt against\nGod; without ceasing, in despite of God, Satan leads them into\nperdition, except one man only, who refused to follow him, and who\nfound grace in the eyes of the Lord. You are not ignorant that the\nmillions that follow the standard of Beelzebub are to be plunged with\nhim into eternal misery.\n\nBut then has Satan himself incurred the disgrace of the All-powerful?\nBy what forfeit has he merited becoming the eternal object of the\nanger of that God who created him? The Christian religion will explain\nall. It informs us that the Devil was in his origin an angel; that is\nto say, a pure spirit, full of perfections, created by the Divinity to\noccupy a distinguishing situation in the celestial court, destined,\nlike the other ministers of the Eternal, to receive his orders, and to\nenjoy perpetual blessedness. But he lost himself through ambition; his\npride blinded him, and he dared to revolt against his Creator; he\nengaged other spirits, as pure as himself, in the same senseless\nenterprise; in consequence of his rashness, he was hurled headlong out\nof heaven, his miserable adherents were involved in his fall, and,\nhaving been hardened by the divine pleasure in their foolish\ndispositions, they have no other occupation assigned them in the\nuniverse than to tempt mankind, and endeavor to augment the number of\nthe enemies of God, and the victims of his wrath.\n\nIt is by the assistance of this fable that the Christian doctors\nperceive the fall of Adam, prepared by the Almighty himself anterior\nto the creation of the world. Was it necessary that the Divinity\nshould entertain a great desire that man might sin, since he would\nthereby have an opportunity of providing the means of making him\nsinful? In effect, it was the Devil who, in process of time, covered\nwith the skin of a serpent, solicited the mother of the human race to\ndisobey God, and involve her husband in her rebellion. But the\ndifficulty is not removed by these inventions. If Satan, in the time\nhe was an angel, lived in innocence, and merited the good will of his\nMaker, how came God to suffer him to entertain ideas of pride,\nambition, and rebellion? How came this angel of light so blind as not\nto see the folly of such an enterprise? Did he not know that his\nCreator was all-powerful? Who was it that tempted Satan? What reason\nhad the Divinity for selecting him to be the object of his fury, the\ndestroyer of his projects, the enemy of his power? If pride be a sin,\nif the idea itself of rebellion is the greatest of crimes, _sin was,\nthen, anterior to sin_, and Lucifer offended God, even in his state of\npurity; for, in fine, a being pure, innocent, agreeable to his God,\nwho had all the perfections of which a creature could be susceptible,\nought to be exempt from ambition, pride, and folly. We ought, also, to\nsay as much for our first parent, who, notwithstanding his wisdom, his\ninnocence, and the knowledge infused into him by God himself, could\nnot prevent himself from falling into the temptation of a demon.\n\nHence, in every shift, the priests invariably make God the author of\nsin. It was God who tempted Lucifer before the creation of the world;\nLucifer, in his turn, became the tempter of man and the cause of all\nthe evil our race suffers. It appears, therefore, that God created\nboth angels and men to give them an opportunity of sinning.\n\nIt is easy to perceive the absurdity of this system, to save which the\ntheologians have invented another still more absurd, that it might\nbecome the foundation of all their religious revelations, and by means\nof which they idly imagine they can fully justify the divine\nprovidence. The system of truth supposes the _free will_ of man--that\nhe is his own master, capable of doing good or ill, and of directing\nhis own plans. At the words _free will_, I already perceive, Madam,\nthat you tremble, and doubtless anticipate a metaphysical\ndissertation. Rest assured of the contrary; for I flatter myself that\nthe question will be simplified and rendered clear, I shall not merely\nsay for you, but for all your sex who are not resolved to be wilfully\nblind.\n\nTo say that man is a free agent is to detract from the power of the\nSupreme Being; it is to pretend that God is not the master of his own\nwill; it is to advance that a weak creature can, when it pleases him,\nrevolt against his Creator, derange his projects, disturb the order\nwhich he loves, render his labors useless, afflict him with chagrin,\ncause him sorrow, act with effect against him, and arouse his anger\nand his passions. Thus, at the first glance, you perceive that this\nprinciple gives rise to a crowd of absurdities. If God is the friend\nof order, every thing performed by his creatures would necessarily\nconduce to the maintenance of this order, because otherwise the divine\nwill would fail to have its effect. If God has plans, they must of\nnecessity be always executed; if man can afflict his God, man is the\nmaster of this God's happiness, and the league he has formed with the\nDevil is potent enough to thwart the plans of the Divinity. In a word,\nif man is free to sin, God is no longer Omnipotent.\n\nIn reply, we are told that God, without detriment to his Omnipotence,\nmight make man a free agent, and that this liberty is a benefit by\nwhich God places man in a situation where he may merit the heavenly\nbounty; but, on the other hand, this liberty likewise exposes him to\nencounter God's hatred, to offend him, and to be overwhelmed by\ninfinite sufferings. From this I conclude that this liberty is _not_ a\nbenefit, and that it evidently is inconsistent with divine goodness.\nThis goodness would be more real if men had always sufficient\nresolution to do what is pleasing to God, conformably to order, and\nconducive to the happiness of their fellow-creatures. If men, in\nvirtue of their liberty, do things contrary to the will of God, God,\nwho is supposed to have the prescience of foreseeing all, ought to\nhave taken measures to prevent men from abusing their liberty; if he\nforesaw they would sin, he ought to have given them the means of\navoiding it; if he could not prevent them from doing ill, he has\nconsented to the ill they have done; if he has consented, he should\nnot be offended; if he is offended, or if he punish them for the evil\nthey have done with his permission, he is unjust and cruel; if he\nsuffer them to rush on to their destruction, he is bound afterwards to\ntake them to himself; and he cannot with reason find fault with them\nfor the abuse of their liberty, in being deceived or seduced by the\nobjects which he himself had placed in their way to seduce them, to\ntempt them, and to determine their wills to do evil.[4]\n\n[4] See what Bayle says, _Dict. Crit._, art. _Origene_, Rem. E., art.\n_Pauliciens_, Rem. E., F., M., and tom. iij. of the _Reponses aux\nQuestions d'un Provincial_.\n\nWhat would you say of a father who should give to his children, in the\ninfancy of age, and when they were without experience, the liberty of\nsatisfying their disordered appetites, till they should convince\nthemselves of their evil tendency? Would not such a parent be in the\nright to feel uneasy at the abuse which they should make of their\nliberty which he had given them? Would it not be accounted malice in\nthis parent, who should have foreseen what was to happen, not to have\nfurnished his children with the capacity of directing their own\nconduct so as to avoid the evils they might be assailed with? Would it\nnot show in him the height of madness were he to punish them for the\nevil which he had done, and the chagrin which they occasioned him?\nWould it not be to himself that we should ascribe the sottishness and\nwickedness of his children?\n\nYou see, then, the points of view under which this system of men's\nfree will shows us the Deity. This free will becomes a present the\nmost dangerous, since it puts man in the condition of doing evil that\nis truly frightful. We may thence conclude that this system, far from\njustifying God, makes him capable of malice, imprudence, and\ninjustice. But this is to overturn all our ideas of a being perfectly,\nnay, infinitely wise and good, consenting to punish his creatures for\nsins which he gave them the power of committing, or, which is the\nsame, suffering the Devil to inspire them with evil. All the\nsubtilties of theology have really only a tendency to destroy the very\nnotions itself inculcates concerning the Divinity. This theology is\nevidently the tub of the Danaides.\n\nIt is a fact, however, that our theologians have imagined expedients\nto support their ruinous suppositions. You have often heard mention\nmade of _predestination_ and _grace_--terrible words, which constantly\nexcite disputes among us, for which reason would be forced to blush if\nChristians did not make it a duty to renounce reason, and which\ncontests are attended with consequences very dangerous to society. But\nlet not this surprise you; these false and obscure principles have\neven among the theologians produced dissensions; and their quarrels\nwould be indifferent if they did not attach more importance to them\nthan they really deserve.\n\nBut to proceed. The system of predestination supposes that God, in his\neternal secrets, has resolved that some men should be elected, and,\nbeing thus his favorites, receive special grace. By this grace they\nare supposed to be made agreeable to God, and meet for eternal\nhappiness. But then an infinite number of others are destined to\nperdition, and receive not the grace necessary to eternal salvation.\nThese contradictory and opposite propositions make it pretty evident\nthat the system is absurd. It makes God, a being infinitely perfect\nand good, a partial tyrant, who has created a vast number of human\nbeings to be the sport of his caprice and the victims of his\nvengeance. It supposes that God will punish his creatures for not\nhaving received that grace which he did not deign to give them; it\npresents this God to us under traits so revolting that the theologians\nare forced to avow that the whole is a profound mystery, into which\nthe human mind cannot penetrate. But if man is not made to lift his\ninquisitive eye on this frightful mystery, that is to say, on this\nastonishing absurdity, which our teachers have idly endeavored to\nsquare to their views of Deity, or to reconcile the atrocious\ninjustice of their God with his infinite goodness, by what right do\nthey wish us to adore this mystery which they would compel us to\nbelieve, and to subscribe to an opinion that saps the divine goodness\nto its very foundation? How do they reason upon a dogma, and quarrel\nwith acrimony about a system of which even themselves can comprehend\nnothing?\n\nThe more you examine religion, the more occasion you will have to be\nconvinced that those things which our divines call _mysteries_ are\nnothing else but the difficulties with which they are themselves\nembarrassed, when they are unable to avoid the absurdities into which\ntheir own false principles necessarily involve them. Nevertheless,\nthis word is not enough to impose upon us; the reverend doctors do not\nthemselves understand the things about which they incessantly speak.\nThey invent words from an inability to explain things, and they give\nthe name of _mysteries_ to what they comprehend no better than\nourselves.\n\nAll the religions in the world are founded upon predestination, and\nall the pretended revelations among men, as has been already pointed\nout to you, inculcate this odious dogma, which makes Providence an\nunjust mother-in-law, who shows a blind preference for some of her\nchildren to the prejudice of all the others. They make God a tyrant,\nwho punishes the inevitable faults to which he has impelled them, or\ninto which he has allowed them to be seduced. This dogma, which served\nas the foundation of Paganism, is now the grand pivot of the Christian\nreligion, whose God should excite no less hatred than the most wicked\ndivinities of idolatrous people. With such notions, is it not\nastonishing that this God should appear, to those who meditate on his\nattributes, an object sufficiently terrible to agitate the\nimagination, and to lead some to indulge in dangerous follies?\n\nThe dogma of another life serves also to exculpate the Deity from\nthese apparent injustices or aberrations, with which he might\nnaturally be accused. It is pretended that it has pleased him to\ndistinguish his friends on earth, seeing he has amply provided for\ntheir future happiness in an abode prepared for their souls. But, as I\nbelieve I have already hinted, these proofs that God makes some good,\nand leaves others wicked, either evince injustice on his part, at\nleast temporary, or they contradict his omnipotence. If God can do all\nthings, if he is privy to all the thoughts and actions of men, what\nneed has he of any proofs? If he has resolved to give them grace\nnecessary to save them, has he not assured them they will not perish?\nIf he is unjust and cruel, this God is not immutable, and belies his\ncharacter; at least for a time he derogates from the perfections which\nwe should expect to find in him. What would you think of a king, who,\nduring a particular time, would discover to his favorites traits the\nmost frightful, in order that they might incur his disgrace, and who\nshould afterwards insist on their believing him a very good and\namiable man, to obtain his favor again? Would not such a prince be\npronounced wicked, fanciful, and tyrannical? Nevertheless, this\nsupposed prince might be pardoned by some, if for his own interest,\nand the better to assure himself of the attachment of his friends, he\nmight give them some smiles of his favor. It is not so God, who knows\nall, who can do all, who has nothing to fear from the dispositions of\nhis creatures. From all these reasonings, we may see that the Deity,\nwhom the priests have conjured up, plays a great game, very\nridiculous, very unjust, on the supposition that he tries his\nservants, and that he allows them to suffer in this world, to prepare\nthem for another. The theologians have not failed to discover motives\nin this conduct of God which they can as readily justify; but these\npretended motives are borrowed from the omnipotence of this being, by\nhis absolute power over his creatures, to whom he is not obliged to\nrender an account of his actions; but especially in this theology,\nwhich professes to justify God, do we not see it make him a despot and\ntyrant more hateful than any of his creatures?\n\n                                                I am, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER V.\n\n  Of the Immortality of the Soul, and of the Dogma of another Life.\n\n\nWe, have now, Madam, come to the examination of the dogma of a future\nlife, in which it is supposed that the Divinity, after causing men to\npass through the temptations, the trials, and the difficulties of\nthis life, for the purpose of satisfying himself whether they are\nworthy of his love or his hatred, will bestow the recompenses or\ninflict the chastisements which they deserved. This dogma, which is\none of the capital points of the Christian religion, is founded on a\ngreat many hypotheses or suppositions, which we have already glanced\nat, and which we have shown to be absurd and incompatible with the\nnotions which the same religion gives us of the Deity. In effect, it\nsupposes us capable of offending or pleasing the Author of Nature, of\ninfluencing his humor, or exciting his passions; afflicting,\ntormenting, resisting, and thwarting the plans of Deity. It supposes,\nmoreover, the free-will of man--a system which we have seen\nincompatible with the goodness, justice, and omnipotence of the Deity.\nIt supposes, further, that God has occasion of proving his creatures,\nand making them, if I may so speak, pass a novitiate to know what they\nare worth when he shall square accounts with them. It supposes in God,\nwho has created men for happiness only, the inability to put, by one\ngrand effort, all men in the road, whence they may infallibly arrive\nat permanent felicity. It supposes that man will survive himself, or\nthat the same being, after death, will continue to think, to feel, and\nact as he did in this life. In a word, it supposes the immortality of\nthe soul--an opinion unknown to the Jewish lawgiver, who is totally\nsilent on this topic to the people to whom God had manifested himself;\nan opinion which even in the time of Jesus Christ one sect at\nJerusalem admitted, while another sect rejected; an opinion about\nwhich the Messiah, who came to instruct them, deigned to fix the ideas\nof those who might deceive themselves in this respect; an opinion\nwhich appears to have been engendered in Egypt, or in India, anterior\nto the Jewish religion, but which was unknown among the Hebrews till\nthey took occasion to instruct themselves in the Pagan philosophy of\nthe Greeks, and doctrines of Plato.\n\nWhatever might be the origin of this doctrine, it was eagerly adopted\nby the Christians, who judged it very convenient to their system of\nreligion, all the parts of which are founded on the marvellous, and\nwhich made it a crime to admit any truths agreeable to reason and\ncommon sense. Thus, without going back to the inventors of this\ninconceivable dogma, let us examine dispassionately what this opinion\nreally is; let us endeavor to penetrate to the principles on which it\nis supported; let us adopt it, if we shall find it an idea conformable\nto reason; let us reject it, if it shall appear destitute of proof,\nand at variance with common sense, even though it had been received as\nan established truth in all antiquity, though it may have been adopted\nby many millions of mankind.\n\nThose who maintain the opinion of the soul's immortality, regard\nit--that is, the soul--as a being distinct from the body, as a\nsubstance, or essence, totally different from the corporeal frame, and\nthey designate it by the name of _spirit_. If we ask them what a\nspirit is, they tell us it is not matter; and if we ask them what they\nunderstand by that which is not matter, which is the only thing of\nwhich we cannot form an idea, they tell us it is a spirit. In general,\nit is easy to see that men the most savage, as well as the most subtle\nthinkers, make use of the word _spirit_ to designate all the causes of\nwhich they cannot form clear notions; hence the word spirit hath been\nused to designate a being of which none can form any idea.\n\nNotwithstanding, the divines pretend that this unknown being, entirely\ndifferent from the body, of a substance which has nothing conformable\nwith itself, is, nevertheless, capable of setting the body in motion;\nand this, doubtless, is a mystery very inconceivable. We have noticed\nthe alliance between this spiritual substance and the material body,\nwhose functions it regulates. As the divines have supposed that matter\ncould neither think, nor will, nor perceive, they have believed that\nit might conceive much better those operations attributed to a being\nof which they had ideas less clear than they can form of matter. In\nconsequence, they have imagined many gratuitous suppositions to\nexplain the union of the soul with the body. In fine, in the\nimpossibility of overcoming the insurmountable barriers which oppose\nthem, the priests have made man twofold, by supposing that he contains\nsomething distinct from himself; they have cut through all\ndifficulties by saying that this union is a great mystery, which man\ncannot understand; and they have everlasting recourse to the\nomnipotence of God, to his supreme will, to the miracles which he has\nalways wrought; and those last are never-failing, final resources,\nwhich the theologians reserve for every case wherein they can find no\nother mode of escaping gracefully from the argument of their\nadversaries.\n\nYou see, then, to what we reduce all the jargon of the metaphysicians,\nall the profound reveries which for so many ages have been so\nindustriously hawked about in defence of the soul of man; an\nimmaterial substance, of which no living being can form an idea; a\nspirit, that is to say, a being totally different from any thing we\nknow. All the theological verbiage ends here, by telling us, in a\nround of pompous terms,--fooleries that impose on the ignorant,--that\nwe do not know what essence the soul is of; but we call it a spirit\nbecause of its nature, and because we feel ourselves agitated by some\nunknown agent; we cannot comprehend the mechanism of the soul; yet can\nwe feel ourselves moved, as it were, by an effect of the power of God,\nwhose essence is far removed from ours, and more concealed from us\nthan the human soul itself. By the aid of this language, from which\nyou cannot possibly learn any thing, you will be as wise, Madam, as\nall the theologians in the world.\n\nIf you would desire to form ideas the most precise of yourself, banish\nfrom you the prejudices of a vain theology, which only consists in\nrepeating words without attaching any new ideas to them, and which\nare insufficient to distinguish the soul from the body, which appear\nonly capable of multiplying beings without reason, of rendering more\nincomprehensible and more obscure, notions less distinct than we\nalready have of ourselves. These notions should be at least the most\nsimple and the most exact, if we consult our nature, experience, and\nreason. They prove that man knows nothing but by his material sensible\norgans, that he sees only by his eyes, that he feels by his touch,\nthat he hears by his ears; and that when either of these organs is\nactually deranged, or has been previously wanting, or imperfect, man\ncan have none of the ideas that organ is capable of furnishing him\nwith,--neither thoughts, memory, reflection, judgment, desire, nor\nwill. Experience shows us that corporeal and material beings are alone\ncapable of being moved and acted upon, and that without those organs\nwe have enumerated the soul thinks not, feels not, wills not, nor is\nmoved. Every thing shows us that the soul undergoes always the same\nvicissitudes as the body; it grows to maturity, gains strength,\nbecomes weak, and puts on old age, like the body; in fine, every thing\nwe can understand of it goes to prove that it perishes with the body.\nIt is indeed folly to pretend that man will feel when he has no organs\nappropriate for that sentiment; that he will see and hear without eyes\nor ears; that he will have ideas without having senses to receive\nimpressions from physical objects, or to give rise to perceptions in\nhis understanding; in fine, that he will enjoy or suffer when he has\nno longer either nerves or sensibility.\n\nThus every thing conspires to prove that the soul is the same thing as\nthe body, viewed relatively to some of its functions, which are more\nobscure than others. Every thing serves to convince us that without\nthe body the soul is nothing, and that all the operations which are\nattributed to the soul cannot be exercised any longer when the body is\ndestroyed. Our body is a machine, which, so long as we live, is\nsusceptible of producing the effects which have been designated under\ndifferent names, one from another; sentiment is one of these effects,\nthought is another, reflection a third. This last passes sometimes by\nother names, and our brain appears to be the seat of all our organs;\nit is that which is the most susceptible. This organic machine once\ndestroyed or deranged, is no longer capable of producing the same\neffects, or of exercising the same functions. It is with our body as\nit is with a watch which indicates the hours, and which goes not if\nthe spring or a pinion be broken.\n\nCease, Eugenia, cease to torment yourself about the fate which shall\nattend you when death will have separated you from all that is dear on\nearth. After the dissolution of this life, the soul shall cease to\nexist; those devouring flames with which you have been threatened by\nthe priests will have no effect upon the soul, which can neither be\nsusceptible then of pleasures nor pains, of agreeable or sorrowful\nideas, of lively or doleful reflections.\n\nIt is only by means of the bodily organs that we feel, think, and are\nmerry or sad, happy or miserable; this body once reduced to dust, we\nwill have neither perceptions nor sensations, and, by consequence,\nneither memory nor ideas; the dispersed particles will no longer have\nthe same qualities they possessed when united; nor will they any\nlonger conspire to produce the same effects. In a word, the body being\ndestroyed, the soul, which is merely a result of all the parts of the\nbody in action, will cease to be what it is; it will be reduced to\nnothing with the life's breath.\n\nOur teachers pretend to understand the soul well; they profess to be\nable to distinguish it from the body; in short, they can do nothing\nwithout it; and therefore, to keep up the farce, they have been\ncompelled to admit the ridiculous dogma of the Persians, known by the\nname of the _resurrection_. This system supposes that the particles of\nthe body which have been scattered at death will be collected at the\nlast day, to be replaced in their primitive condition. But that this\nstrange phenomenon may take place, it is necessary that the particles\nof our destroyed bodies, of which some, have been converted into\nearth, others have passed into plants, others into animals, some of\none species, others of another, even of our own; it is requisite, I\nsay, that these particles, of which some have been mixed with the\nwaters of the deep, others have been carried on the wings of the wind,\nand which have successively belonged to many different men, should be\nreunited to reproduce the individual to whom they formerly belonged.\nIf you cannot get over this impossibility, the theologians will\nexplain it to you by saying, very briefly, \"Ah! it is a profound\nmystery, which we cannot comprehend.\" They will inform you that the\nresurrection is a miracle, a supernatural effect, which is to result\nfrom the divine power. It is thus they overcome all the difficulties\nwhich the good sense of a few opposes to their rhapsodies.\n\nIf, perchance, Madam, you do not wish to remain content with these\nsublime reasons, against which your good sense will naturally revolt,\nthe clergy will endeavor to seduce your imagination by vague pictures\nof the ineffable delights which will be enjoyed in Paradise by the\nsouls and bodies of those who have adopted their reveries; they will\naver that you cannot refuse to believe them upon their mere word\nwithout encountering the eternal indignation of a God of pity; and\nthey will attempt to alarm your fancy by frightful delineations of the\ncruel torments which a God of goodness has prepared for the greater\nnumber of his creatures.\n\nBut if you consider the thing coolly, you will perceive the futility\nof their flattering promises and of their puny threatenings, which are\nuttered merely to catch the unwary. You may easily discover that if it\ncould be true that man shall survive himself, God, in recompensing\nhim, would only recompense himself for the grace which he had granted;\nand when he punished him, he punished him for not receiving the grace\nwhich he had hardened him against receiving. This line of conduct, so\ncruel and barbarous, appears equally unworthy of a wise God as it is\nof a being perfectly good.\n\nIf your mind, proof against the terrors with which the Christian\nreligion penetrates its sectaries, is capable of contemplating these\nfrightful circumstances, which it is imagined will accompany the\ncarefully-invented punishments which God has destined for the victims\nof his vengeance, you will find that they are impossible, and totally\nincompatible with the ideas which they themselves have put forth of\nthe Divinity. In a word, you will perceive that the chastisements of\nanother life are but a crowd of chimeras, invented to disturb human\nreason, to subjugate it beneath the feet of imposture, to annihilate\nforever the repose of slaves whom the priesthood would inthrall and\nretain under its yoke.\n\nIn short, Eugenia, the priests would make you believe that these\ntorments will be horrible,--a thing which accords not with our ideas\nof God's goodness; they tell you they will be eternal,--a thing which\naccords not with our ideas of the justice of God, who, one would very\nnaturally suppose, will proportion chastisements to faults, and who,\nby consequence, will not punish without end the beings whose actions\nare bounded by time. They tell us that the offences against God are\ninfinite, and, by consequence, that the Divinity, without doing\nviolence to his justice, may avenge himself as God, that is to say,\navenge himself to infinity. In this case I shall say that this God is\nnot good; that he is vindictive, a character which always announces\nfear and weakness. In fine, I shall say that among the imperfect\nbeings who compose the human species, there is not, perhaps, a single\none who, without some advantage to himself, without personal fear, in\na word, without folly, would consent to punish everlastingly the\nwretch who might have the misfortune to offend him, but who no longer\nhad either the ability or the inclination to commit another offence.\nCaligula found, at least, some little amusement to forsake for a time\nthe cares of government, and enjoy the spectacle of punishment which\nhe inflicted on those unfortunate men whom he had an interest in\ndestroying. But what advantage can it be to God to heap on the damned\neverlasting torments? Will this amuse him? Will their frightful\npunishments correct their faults? Can these examples of the divine\nseverity be of any service to those on earth, who witness not their\nfriends in hell? Will it not be the most astonishing of all the\nmiracles of Deity to make the bodies of the damned invulnerable, to\nresist, through the ceaseless ages of eternity, the frightful torments\ndestined for them?\n\nYou see, then, Madam, that the ideas which the priests give us of hell\nmake of God a being infinitely more insensible, more wicked and cruel\nthan the most barbarous of men. They add to all this that it will be\nthe Devil and the apostate angels, that is to say, the enemies of\nGod, whom he will employ as the ministers of his implacable vengeance.\nThese wicked spirits, then, will execute the commands which this\nsevere judge will pronounce against men at the last judgment. For you\nmust know, Madam, that a God who knows all will at some future time\ntake an account of what he already knows. So, then, not content with\njudging men at death, he will assemble the whole human race with great\npomp at the last or general judgment, in which he will confirm his\nsentence in the view of the whole human race, assembled to receive\ntheir doom. Thus on the wreck of the world will he pronounce a\ndefinitive judgment, from which there will be no appeal. But, in\nattending this memorable judgment, what will become of the souls of\nmen, separated from their bodies, which have not yet been\nresuscitated? The souls of the just will go directly to enjoy the\nblessings of Paradise; but what is to become of the immense crowd of\nsouls imbued with faults or crimes, and on whom the infallible\nparsons, who are so well instructed in what is passing in another\nworld, cannot speak with certainty as to their fate? According to some\nof these wiseacres, God will place the souls of such as are not wholly\ndispleasing to him in a place of punishment, where, by rigorous\ntorments, they shall have the merit of expiating the faults with which\nthey may stand chargeable at death. According to this fine system, so\nprofitable to our spiritual guides, God has found it the most simple\nmethod to build a fiery furnace for the special purpose of tormenting\na certain proportion of souls who have not been sufficiently purified\nat death to enter Paradise, but who, after leaving them some years\nunited with the body, and giving them time necessary to arrive at that\namendment of life by which they may become partakers of the supreme\nfelicity of heaven, ordains that they shall expiate their offences in\ntorment. It is on this ridiculous notion that our priests have\nbottomed the doctrine of _purgatory_, which every good Catholic is\nobliged to believe for the benefit of the priests, who reserve to\nthemselves, as is very reasonable, the power of compelling by their\nprayers a just and immutable God to relax in his sternness, and\nliberate the captive souls, which he had only condemned to undergo\nthis purgation in order that they might be made meet for the joys of\nParadise.\n\nWith respect to the Protestants, who are, as every one knows, heretics\nand impious, you will observe that they pretend not to those lucrative\nviews of the Roman doctors. On the contrary, they think that, at the\ninstant of death, every man is irrevocably judged; that he goes\ndirectly to glory or into a place of punishment, to suffer the award\nof evil by the enduring of punishments for which God had eternally\nprepared both the sufferer and his torments! Even before the reunion\nof soul and body at the final judgment, they fancy that the soul of\nthe wicked (which, on the principle of all souls being _spirits_,\nmust be the same in essence as the soul of the elect,) will, though\ndeprived of those organs by which it felt, and thought, and acted, be\ncapable of undergoing the agency or action of a fire! It is true that\nsome Protestant theologians tell us that the fire of hell is a\nspiritual fire, and, by consequence, very different from the material\nfire vomited out of Vesuvius, and AEtna, and Hecla. Nor ought we to\ndoubt that these informed doctors of the Protestant faith know very\nwell what they say, and that they have as precise and clear ideas of a\nspiritual fire as they have of the ineffable joys of Paradise, which\nmay be as spiritual as the punishment of the damned in hell.\n\nSuch are, Madam, in a few words, the absurdities, not less revolting\nthan ridiculous, which the dogmas of a future life and of the\nimmortality of the soul have engendered in the minds of men. Such are\nthe phantoms which have been invented and propagated, to seduce and\nalarm mortals, to excite their hopes and their fears; such the\nillusions that so powerfully operate on weak and feeling beings. But\nas melancholy ideas have more effect upon the imagination than those\nwhich are agreeable, the priests have always insisted more forcibly on\nwhat men have to fear on the part of a terrible God than on what they\nhave to hope from the mercy of a forgiving Deity, full of goodness.\nPrinces the most wicked are infinitely more respected than those who\nare famed for indulgence and humanity. The priests have had the art\nto throw us into uncertainty and mistrust by the twofold character\nwhich they have given the Divinity. If they promise us salvation, they\ntell us that we must work it out for ourselves, \"with fear and\ntrembling.\" It is thus that they have contrived to inspire the minds\nof the most honest men with dismay and doubt, repeating without\nceasing that time only must disclose who are worthy of the divine\nlove, or who are to be the objects of the divine wrath. Terror has\nbeen and always will be the most certain means of corrupting and\nenslaving the mind of man.\n\nThey will tell us, doubtless, that the terrors which religion inspires\nare salutary terrors; that the dogma of another life is a bridle\nsufficiently powerful to prevent the commission of crimes and restrain\nmen within the path of duty. To undeceive one's self of this maxim, so\noften thundered in our ears, and so generally adopted on the authority\nof the priests, we have only to open our eyes. Nevertheless, we see\nsome Christians thoroughly persuaded of another life, who,\nnotwithstanding, conduct themselves as if they had nothing to fear on\nthe part of a God of vengeance, nor any thing to hope from a God of\nmercy. When any of these are engaged in some great project, at all\ntimes they are tempted by some strong passion or by some bad habit,\nthey shut their eyes on another life, they see not the enraged judge,\nthey suffer themselves to sin, and when it is committed, they comfort\nthemselves by saying, that God is good. Besides, they console\nthemselves by the same contradictory religion which shows them also\nthis same God, whom it represents so susceptible of wrath, as full of\nmercy, bestowing his grace on all those who are sensible of their\nevils and repent. In a word, I see none whom the fears of hell will\nrestrain when passion or interest solicit obedience. The very priests\nwho make so many efforts to convince us of their dogmas too often\nevince more wickedness of conduct than we find in those who have never\nheard one word about another life. Those who from infancy have been\ntaught these terrifying lessons are neither less debauched, nor less\nproud, nor less passionate, nor less unjust, nor less avaricious than\nothers who have lived and died ignorant of Christian purgatory and\nParadise. In fine, the dogma of another life has little or no\ninfluence on them; it annihilates none of their passions; it is a\nbridle merely with some few timid souls, who, without its knowledge,\nwould never have the hardihood to be guilty of any great excesses.\nThis dogma is very fit to disturb the quiet of some honest, timorous\npersons, and the credulous, whose imagination it inflames, without\never staying the hand of great rogues, without imposing on them more\nthan the decency of civilization and a specious morality of life,\nrestrained chiefly by the coercion of public laws.\n\nIn short, to sum all up in one thought, I behold a religion gloomy and\nformidable to make impressions very lively, very deep, and very\ndangerous on a mind such as yours, although it makes but very\nmomentary impressions on the minds of such as are hardened in crime,\nor whose dissipation destroys constantly the effects of its threats.\nMore lively affected than others by your principles, you have been but\ntoo often and too seriously occupied for your happiness by gloomy and\nharassing objects, which have powerfully affected your sensible\nimagination, though the same phantoms that have pursued you have been\naltogether banished from the mind of those who have had neither your\nvirtues, your understanding, nor your sensibility.\n\nAccording to his principles, a Christian must always live in fear; he\ncan never know with certainty whether he pleases or displeases God;\nthe least movement of pride or of covetousness, the least desire, will\nsuffice to merit the divine anger, and lose in one moment the fruits\nof years of devotion. It is not surprising that, with these frightful\nprinciples before them, many Christians should endeavor to find in\nsolitude employment for their lugubrious reflections, where they may\navoid the occasions that solicit them to do wrong, and embrace such\nmeans as are most likely, according to their notions of the likelihood\nof the thing, to expiate the faults which they fancy might incur the\neternal vengeance of God.\n\nThus the dark notions of a future life leave those only in peace who\nthink slightly upon it; and they are very disconsolate to all those\nwhose temperament determines them to contemplate it. They are but the\natrocious ideas, however, which the priests study to give us of the\nDeity, and by which they have compelled so many worthy people to throw\nthemselves into the arms of incredulity. If some libertines, incapable\nof reasoning, abjure a religion troublesome to their passions, or\nwhich abridges their pleasures, there are very many who have maturely\nexamined it, that have been disgusted with it, because they could not\nconsent to live in the fears it engendered, nor to nourish the despair\nit created. They have then abjured this religion, fit only to fill the\nsoul with inquietudes, that they might find in the bosom of reason the\nrepose which it insures to good sense.\n\nTimes of the greatest crimes are always times of the greatest\nignorance. It is in these times, or usually so, that the greatest\nnoise is made about religion. Men then follow mechanically, and\nwithout examination, the tenets which their priests impose on them,\nwithout ever diving to the bottom of their doctrines. In proportion as\nmankind become enlightened, great crimes become more rare, the manners\nof men are more polished, the sciences are cultivated, and the\nreligion which they have coolly and carefully examined loses sensibly\nits credit. It is thus that we see so many incredulous people in the\nbosom of society become more agreeable and complacent now than\nformerly, when it depended on the caprice of a priest to involve them\nin troubles, and to invite the people to crimes in the hope of thereby\nmeriting heaven.\n\nReligion is consoling only to those who have no embarrassment about\nit; the indefinite and vague recompense which it promises, without\ngiving ideas of it, is made to deceive those who make no reflections\non the impatient, variable, false, and cruel character which this\nreligion gives of its God. But how can it make any promises on the\npart of a God whom it represents as a tempter, a seducer--who appears,\nmoreover, to take pleasure in laying the most dangerous snares for his\nweak creatures? How can it reckon on the favors of a God full of\ncaprice, who it alternately informs us is replete with tenderness or\nwith hatred? By what right does it hold out to us the rewards of a\ndespotic and tyrannical God, who does or does not choose men for\nhappiness, and who consults only his own fantasy to destine some of\nhis creatures to bliss and others to perdition? Nothing, doubtless,\nbut the blindest enthusiasm could induce mortals to place confidence\nin such a God as the priests have feigned; it is to folly alone we\nmust attribute the love some well-meaning people profess to the God of\nthe parsons; it is matchless extravagance alone that could prevail on\nmen to reckon on the unknown rewards which are promised them by this\nreligion, at the same time that it assures us that God is the author\nof grace, but that we have no right to expect any thing from him.\n\nIn a word, Madam, the notions of another life, far from consoling, are\nfit only to imbitter all the sweets of the present life. After the sad\nand gloomy ideas which Christianity, always at variance with itself,\npresents us with of its God, it then affirms, that we are much more\nlikely to incur his terrible chastisements, than possessed of power by\nwhich we may merit ineffable rewards; and it proceeds to inform us,\nthat God will give grace to whomsoever he pleases, yet it remains with\nthemselves whether they escape damnation; and a life the most spotless\ncannot warrant them to presume that they are worthy of his favor. In\ngood truth, would not total annihilation be preferable to such beings,\nrather than falling into the hands of a Deity so hard-hearted? Would\nnot every man of sense prefer the idea of complete annihilation to\nthat of a future existence, in order to be the sport of the eternal\ncaprice of a Deity, so cruel as to damn and torment, without end, the\nunfortunate beings whom he created so weak, that he might punish them\nfor faults inseparable from their nature? If God is good, as we are\nassured, notwithstanding the cruelties of which the priests suppose\nhim capable, is it not more consonant to all our ideas of a being\nperfectly good, to believe that he did not create them to sport with\nthem in a state of eternal damnation, which they had not the power of\nchoosing, or of rejecting and shunning? Has not God treated the beasts\nof the field more favorably than he has treated man, since he has\nexempted them from sin, and by consequence has not exposed them to\nsuffer an eternal unhappiness?\n\nThe dogma of the immortality of the soul, or of a future life,\npresents nothing consoling in the Christian religion. On the contrary,\nit is calculated expressly to fill the heart of the Christian,\nfollowing out his principles, with bitterness and continual alarm. I\nappeal to yourself, Madam, whether these sublime notions have any\nthing consoling in them? Whenever this uncertain idea has presented\nitself to your mind, has it not filled you with a cold and secret\nhorror? Has the consciousness of a life so virtuous and so spotless as\nyours, secured you against those fears which are inspired by the idea\nof a being jealous, severe, capricious, whose eternal disgrace the\nleast fault is sure of incurring, and in whose eyes the smallest\nweakness, or freedom the most involuntary, is sufficient to cancel\nyears of strict observance of all the rules of religion?\n\nI know very well what you will advance to support yourself in your\nprejudices. The ministers of religion possess the secret of tempering\nthe alarms which they have the art to excite. They strive to inspire\nconfidence in those minds which they discover accessible to fear. They\nbalance, thus, one passion against another. They hold in suspense the\nminds of their slaves, in the apprehension that too much confidence\nwould only render them less pliable, or that despair would force them\nto throw off the yoke. To persons terribly frightened about their\nstate after death, they speak only of the hopes which we may entertain\nof the goodness of God. To those who have too much confidence, they\npreach up the terrors of the Lord, and the judgments of a severe God.\nBy this chicanery they contrive to subject or retain under their yoke\nall those who are weak enough to be led by the contradictory doctrines\nof these blind guides.\n\nThey tell you, besides, that the sentiment of the immortality of the\nsoul is inherent in man; that the soul is consumed by boundless\ndesires, and that since there is nothing on this earth capable of\nsatisfying it, these are indubitable proofs that it is destined to\nsubsist eternally. In a word, that as we naturally desire to exist\nalways, we may naturally conclude that we shall always exist. But what\nthink you, Madam, of such reasonings? To what do they lead? Do we\ndesire the continuation of this existence, because it may be blessed\nand happy, or because we know not what may become of us? But we cannot\ndesire a miserable existence, or, at least, one in which it is more\nthan probable we may be miserable rather than happy. If, as the\nChristian religion so often repeats, the number of the elect is very\nsmall, and salvation very difficult, the number of the reprobate very\ngreat, and damnation very easily obtained, who is he who would desire\nto exist always with so evident a risk of being eternally damned?\nWould it not have been better for us not to have been born, than to\nhave been compelled against our nature to play a game so fraught with\nperil? Does not annihilation itself present to us an idea preferable\nto that of an existence which may very easily lead us to eternal\ntortures? Suffer me, Madam, to appeal to yourself. If, before you had\ncome into this world, you had had your choice of being born, or of not\nseeing the light of this fair sun, and you could have been made to\ncomprehend, but for one moment, the hundred thousandth part of the\nrisks you run to be eternally unhappy, would you not have determined\nnever to enjoy life?\n\nIt is an easy matter, then, to perceive the proofs on which the\npriests pretend to found this dogma of the immortality of the soul and\na future life. The desire which we might have of it could only be\nfounded on the hope of enjoying eternal happiness. But does religion\ngive us this assurance? Yes, say the clergy, if you submit faithfully\nto the rules it prescribes. But to conform one's self to these rules,\nis it not necessary to have grace from Heaven? And, are we then sure\nwe shall obtain that grace, or if we do, merit Heaven? Do the priests\nnot repeat to us, without ceasing, that God is the author of grace,\nand that he only gives it to a small number of the elect? Do they not\ndaily tell us that, except one man, who rendered himself worthy of\nthis eternal happiness, there are millions going the high road to\ndamnation? This being admitted, every Christian, who reasons, would be\na fool to desire a future existence which he has so many motives to\nfear, or to reckon on a happiness which every thing conspires to show\nhim is as uncertain, as difficult to be obtained, as it is\nunequivocally dependent on the fantasies of a capricious Deity, who\nsports with the misfortunes of his creatures.\n\nUnder every point of view in which we regard the dogma of the soul's\nimmortality, we are compelled to consider it as a chimera invented by\nmen who have realized their wishes, or who have not been able to\njustify Providence from the transitory injustices of this world. This\ndogma was received with avidity, because it flattered the desires, and\nespecially the vanity of man, who arrogated to himself a superiority\nabove all the beings that enjoy existence, and which he would pass by\nand reduce to mere clay; who believed himself the favorite of God,\nwithout ever taxing his attention with this other fact--that God makes\nhim every instant experience vicissitudes, calamities, and trials, as\nall sentient natures experience; that God made him, in fine, to\nundergo death, or dissolution, which is an invariable law that all\nthat exists must find verified. This haughty creature, who fancies\nhimself a privileged being, alone agreeable to his Maker, does not\nperceive that there are stages in his life when his existence is more\nuncertain and much more weak than that of the other animals, or even\nof some inanimate things. Man is unwilling to admit that he possesses\nnot the strength of the lion, nor the swiftness of the stag, nor the\ndurability of an oak, nor the solidity of marble or metal. He believes\nhimself the greatest favorite, the most sublime, the most noble; he\nbelieves himself superior to all other animals because he possesses\nthe faculties of thinking, judging, and reasoning. But his thoughts\nonly render him more wretched than all the animals whom he supposes\ndeprived of this faculty, or who, at least, he believes, do not enjoy\nit in the same degree with himself. Do not the faculties of thinking,\nof remembering, of foresight, too often render him unhappy by the very\nidea of the past, the present, and the future? Do not his passions\ndrive him to excesses unknown to the other animals? Are his judgments\nalways reasonable and wise? Is reason so largely developed in the\ngreat mass of men that the priests should interdict its use as\ndangerous? Are mankind sufficiently advanced in knowledge to be able\nto overcome the prejudices and chimeras which render them unhappy\nduring the greatest part of their lives? In fine, have the beasts some\nspecies of religious impressions, which inspire continual terrors in\ntheir breast, making them look upon some awful event, which imbitters\ntheir softest pleasures, which enjoins them to torment themselves, and\nwhich threatens them with eternal damnation? No!\n\nIn truth, Madam, if you weigh in an equitable balance the pretended\nadvantages of man above the other animals, you will soon see how\nevanescent is this fictitious superiority which he has arrogated to\nhimself. We find that all the productions of nature are submitted to\nthe same laws; that all beings are only born to die; they produce\ntheir like to destroy themselves; that all sentient beings are\ncompelled to undergo pleasures and pains; they appear and they\ndisappear; they are and they cease to be; they evince under one form\nthat they will quit it to produce another. Such are the continual\nvicissitudes to which every thing that exists is evidently subjected,\nand from which man is not exempt, any more than the other beings and\nproductions that he appropriates to his use as _lord of the creation_.\nEven our globe itself undergoes change; the seas change their place;\nthe mountains are gathered in heaps or levelled into plains; every\nthing that breathes is destroyed at last, and man alone pretends to an\neternal duration.\n\nIt is unnecessary to tell me that we degrade man when we compare him\nwith the beasts, deprived of souls and intelligence; this is no\nlevelling doctrine, but one which places him exactly where nature\nplaces him, but from which his puerile vanity has unfortunately driven\nhim. All beings are equals; under various and different forms they act\ndifferently; they are governed in their appetites and passions by laws\nwhich are invariably the same for all of the same species; every thing\nwhich is composed of parts will be dissolved; every thing which has\nlife must part with it at death; all men are equally compelled to\nsubmit to this fate; they are equal at death, although during life\ntheir power, their talents, and especially their virtues, establish a\nmarked difference, which, though real, is only momentary. What will\nthey be after death? They will be exactly what they were ten years\nbefore they were born.\n\nBanish, then, Eugenia, from your mind forever the terrors which death\nhas hitherto filled you with. It is for the wretched a safe haven\nagainst the misfortunes of this life. If it appears a cruel\nalternative to those who enjoy the good things of this world, why do\nthey not console themselves with the idea of what they do actually\nenjoy? Let them call reason to their aid; it will calm the inquietudes\nof their imagination, but too greatly alarmed; it will disperse the\nclouds which religion spreads over their minds; it will teach them\nthat this death, so terrible in apprehension, is really nothing, and\nthat it will neither be accompanied with remembrance of past pleasures\nnor of sorrow now no more.\n\nLive, then, happy and tranquil, amiable Eugenia! Preserve carefully an\nexistence so interesting and so necessary to all those with whom you\nlive. Allow not your health to be injured, nor trouble your quiet with\nmelancholy ideas. Without being teased by the prospect of an event\nwhich has no right to disturb your repose, cultivate virtue, which has\nalways been your favorite, so necessary to your internal peace, and\nwhich has rendered you so dear to all those who have the happiness of\nbeing your friends. Let your rank, your credit, your riches, your\ntalents be employed to make others happy, to support the oppressed, to\nsuccor the unfortunate, to dry up the tears of those whom you may have\nan opportunity of comforting! Let your mind be occupied about such\nagreeable and profitable employments as are likely to please you!\nCall in the aid of your reason to dissipate the phantoms which alarm\nyou, to efface the prejudices which you have imbibed in early life! In\na word, comfort yourself, and remember that in practising virtue, as\nyou do, you cannot become an object of hatred to God, who, if he has\nreserved in eternity rigorous punishments for the social virtues, will\nbe the strangest, the most cruel, and the most insensible of beings!\n\nYou demand of me, perhaps, \"In destroying the idea of another world,\nwhat is to become of the remorse, those chastisements so useful to\nmankind, and so well calculated to restrain them within the bounds of\npropriety?\" I reply, that remorse will always subsist as long as we\nshall be capable of feeling its pangs, even when we cease to fear the\ndistant and uncertain vengeance of the Divinity. In the commission of\ncrimes, in allowing one's self to be the sport of passion, in injuring\nour species, in refusing to do them good, in stifling pity, every man\nwhose reason is not totally deranged perceives clearly that he will\nrender himself odious to others, that he ought to fear their enmity.\nHe will blush, then, if he thinks he has rendered himself hateful and\ndetestable in their eyes. He knows the continual need he has of their\nesteem and assistance. Experience proves to him that vices the most\nconcealed are injurious to himself. He lives in perpetual fear lest\nsome mishap should unfold his weaknesses and secret faults. It is from\nall these ideas that we are to look for regret and remorse, even in\nthose who do not believe in the chimeras of another world. With regard\nto those whose reason is deranged, those who are enervated by their\npassions, or perhaps linked to vice by the chains of habit, even with\nthe prospect of hell open before them, they will neither live less\nvicious nor less wicked. An avenging God will never inflict on any man\nsuch a total want of reason as may make him regardless of public\nopinion, trample decency under foot, brave the laws, and expose\nhimself to derision and human chastisements. Every man of sense easily\nunderstands that in this world the esteem and affection of others are\nnecessary for his happiness, and that life is but a burden to those\nwho by their vices injure themselves, and render themselves\nreprehensible in the eyes of society.\n\nThe true means, Madam, of living happy in this world is to do good to\nyour fellow-creatures; to labor for the happiness of your species is\nto have virtue, and with virtue we can peaceably and without remorse\napproach the term which nature has fixed equally for all beings--a\nterm that your youth causes you now to see only at a distance--a term\nthat you ought not to accelerate by your fears--a term, in fine, that\nthe cares and desires of all those who know you will seek to put off\ntill, full of days and contented with the part you have played in the\nscene of the world, you shall yourself desire to gently reenter the\nbosom of nature.\n\n                                                I am, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER VI.\n\n  Of the Mysteries, Sacraments, and Religious Ceremonies of\n  Christianity.\n\n\nThe reflections, Madam, which I have already offered you in these\nletters ought, I conceive, to have sufficed to undeceive you, in a\ngreat measure, of the lugubrious and afflicting notions with which you\nhave been inspired by religious prejudices. However, to fulfil the\ntask which you have imposed on me, and to assist you in freeing\nyourself from the unfavorable ideas you may have imbibed from a system\nreplete with irrelevancies and contradictions, I shall continue to\nexamine the strange mysteries with which Christianity is garnished.\nThey are founded on ideas so odd and so contrary to reason, that if\nfrom infancy we had not been familiarized with them, we should blush\nat our species in having for one instant believed and adopted them.\n\nThe Christians, scarcely content with the crowd of enigmas with which\nthe books of the Jews are filled, have besides fancied they must add\nto them a great many incomprehensible mysteries, for which they have\nthe most profound veneration. Their impenetrable obscurity appears to\nbe a sufficient motive among them for adding these. Their priests,\nencouraged by their credulity, which nothing can outdo, seem to be\nstudious to multiply the articles of their faith, and the number of\ninconceivable objects which they have said must be received with\nsubmission, and adored even if not understood.\n\nThe first of these mysteries is the _Trinity_, which supposes that one\nGod, self-existent, who is a pure spirit, is, nevertheless, composed\nof three Divinities, which have obtained the names of _persons_. These\nthree Gods, who are designated under the respective names of the\n_Father_, the _Son_, and the _Holy Ghost_, are, nevertheless, but one\nGod only. These three persons are equal in power, in wisdom, in\nperfections; yet the second is subordinate to the first, in\nconsequence of which he was compelled to become a man, and be the\nvictim of the wrath of his Father. This is what the priests call the\nmystery of the _incarnation_. Notwithstanding his innocence, his\nperfection, his purity, the Son of God became the object of the\nvengeance of a just God, who is the same as the Son in question, but\nwho would not consent to appease himself but by the death of his own\nSon, who is a portion of himself. The Son of God, not content with\nbecoming man, died without having sinned, for the salvation of men who\nhad sinned. God preferred to the punishment of imperfect beings, whom\nhe did not choose to amend, the punishment of his only Son, full of\ndivine perfections. The death of God became necessary to reclaim the\nhuman kind from the slavery of Satan, who without that would not have\nquitted his prey, and who has been found sufficiently powerful against\nthe Omnipotent to oblige him to sacrifice his Son. This is what the\npriests designate by the name of the mystery of _redemption_.\n\nIt is assuredly sufficient to expose such opinions to demonstrate\ntheir absurdity. It is evident, if there exists only a single God,\nthere cannot be three. We may, it is true, contemplate the Deity after\nthe manner of Plato, who, before the birth of Christianity, exhibited\nhim under three different points of view, that is to say, as all-wise,\nas all-powerful, as full of reason, and as infinite in goodness; but\nit was verily the excess of delirium to personify these three divine\nqualities, or transform them into real beings. We can readily imagine\nthese moral attributes to be united in the same God, but it is\negregious folly to fashion them into three different Gods; nor will it\nremedy this metaphysical polytheism to assert that these three are\none. Besides, this revery never entered the head of the Hebrew\nlegislator. The Eternal, in revealing himself to Moses, did not\nannounce himself as triple. There is not one syllable in the Old\nTestament about this Trinity, although a notion so _bizarre_, so\nmarvellous, and so little consonant with our ideas of a divine being,\ndeserved to have been formally announced, especially as it is the\nfoundation and corner stone of the Christian religion, which was from\nall eternity an object of the divine solicitude, and on the\nestablishment of which, if we may credit our sapient priests, God\nseems to have entertained serious thoughts long before the creation of\nthe world.\n\nNevertheless, the second person, or the second God of the Trinity, is\nrevealed in flesh; the Son of God is made man. But how could the pure\nSpirit who presides over the universe beget a son? How could this son,\nwho before his incarnation was only a pure spirit, combine that\nethereal essence with a material body, and envelop himself with it?\nHow could the divine nature amalgamate itself with the imperfect\nnature of man, and how could an immense and infinite being, as the\nDeity is represented, be formed in the womb of a virgin? After what\nmanner could a pure spirit fecundate this favorite virgin? Did the Son\nof God enjoy in the womb of his mother the faculties of omnipotence,\nor was he like other children during his infancy,--weak, liable to\ninfirmities, sickness, and intellectual imbecility, so conspicuous in\nthe years of childhood; and if so, what, during this period, became of\nthe divine wisdom and power? In fine, how could God suffer and die?\nHow could a just God consent that a God exempt from all sin should\nendure the chastisements which are due to sinners? Why did he not\nappease himself without immolating a victim so precious and so\ninnocent? What would you think of that sovereign who, in the event of\nhis subjects rebelling against him, should forgive them all, or a\nselect number of them, by putting to death his only and beloved son,\nwho had not rebelled?\n\nThe priests tell us that it was out of tenderness for the human kind\nthat God wished to accomplish this sacrifice. But I still ask if it\nwould not have been more simple, more conformable to all our ideas of\nDeity, for God to pardon the iniquities of the human race, or to have\nprevented them committing transgressions, by placing them in a\ncondition in which, by their own will, they should never have sinned?\nAccording to the entire system of the Christian religion, it is\nevident that God did only create the world to have an opportunity of\nimmolating his Son for the rebellious beings he might have formed and\npreserved immaculate. The fall of the rebellious angels had no visible\nend to serve but to effect and hasten the fall of Adam. It appears\nfrom this system that God permitted the first man to sin that he might\nhave the pleasure of showing his goodness in sacrificing his \"only\nbegotten Son\" to reclaim men from the thraldom of Satan. He intrusted\nto Satan as much power as might enable him to work the ruin of our\nrace, with the view of afterwards changing the projects of the great\nmass of mankind, by making one God to die, and thereby destroy the\npower of the Devil on the earth.\n\nBut has God succeeded in these projects to the end he proposed? Are\nmen entirely rescued from the dominion of Satan? Are they not still\nthe slaves of sin? Do they find themselves in the happy impossibility\nof kindling the divine wrath? Has the blood of the Son of God washed\naway the sins of the whole world? Do those who are reclaimed, those to\nwhom he has made himself known, those who believe, offend not against\nheaven? Has the Deity, who ought, without doubt, to be perfectly\nsatisfied with so memorable a sacrifice, remitted to them the\npunishment of sin? Is it not necessary to do something more for them?\nAnd since the death of his Son, do we find the Christians exempt from\ndisease and from death? Nothing of all this has happened. The measures\ntaken from all eternity by the wisdom and prescience of a God who\nshould find against his plans no obstacles have been overthrown. The\ndeath of God himself has been of no utility to the world. All the\ndivine projects have militated against the free-will of man, but they\nhave not destroyed the power of Satan. Man continues to sin and to\ndie; the Devil keeps possession of the field of battle; and it is for\na very small number of the elect that the Deity consented to die.\n\nYou do indeed smile, Madam, at my being obliged seriously to combat\nsuch chimeras. If they have something of the marvellous in them, it is\nquite adapted to the heads of children, not of men, and ought not to\nbe admitted by reasonable beings. All the notions we can form of those\nthings must be mysterious; yet there is no subject more demonstrable,\naccording to those whose interest it is to have it believed, though\nthey are as incapable as ourselves to comprehend the matter. For the\npriests to say that they believe such absurdities, is to be guilty of\nmanifest falsehood; because a proposition to be believed must\nnecessarily be understood. To believe what they do not comprehend is\nto adhere sottishly to the absurdities of others; to believe things\nwhich are not comprehended by those who gossip about them is the\nheight of folly; to believe blindly the mysteries of the Christian\nreligion is to admit contradictions of which they who declare them are\nnot convinced. In fine, is it necessary to abandon one's reason among\nabsurdities that have been received without examination from ancient\npriests, who were either the dupes of more knowing men, or themselves\nthe impostors who fabricated the tales in question?\n\nIf you ask of me how men have not long ago been shocked by such absurd\nand unintelligible reveries, I shall proceed, in my turn, to explain\nto you this secret of the church, this mystery of our priests. It is\nnot necessary, in doing this, to pay any attention to those general\ndispositions of man, especially when he is ignorant and incapable of\nreasoning. All men are curious, inquisitive; their curiosity spurs\nthem on to inquiry, and their imagination busies itself to clothe with\nmystery every thing the fancy conjures up as important to happiness.\nThe vulgar mistake even what they have the means of knowing, or, which\nis the same thing, what they are least practised in they are dazzled\nwith; they proclaim it, accordingly, marvellous, prodigious,\nextraordinary; it is a phenomenon. They neither admire nor respect\nmuch what is always visible to their eyes; but whatever strikes their\nimagination, whatever gives scope to the mind, becomes itself the\nfruitful source of other ideas far more extravagant. The priests have\nhad the art to prevail on the people to believe in their secret\ncorrespondence with the Deity; they have been thence much respected,\nand in all countries their professed intercourse with an unseen\nDivinity has given room for their announcement of things the most\nmarvellous and mysterious.\n\nBesides, the Divinity being a being whose impenetrable essence is\nveiled from mortal sight, it has been commonly admitted by the\nignorant, that what could not be seen by mortal eye must necessarily\nbe divine. Hence _sacred_, _mysterious_, and _divine_, are synonymous\nterms; and these imposing words have sufficed to place the human race\non their knees to adore what seeks not their inflated devotion.\n\nThe three mysteries which I have examined are received unanimously by\nall sects of Christians; but there are others on which the theologians\nare not agreed. In fine, we see men, who, after they have admitted,\nwithout repugnance, a certain number of absurdities, stop all of a\nsudden in the way, and refuse to admit more. The Christian Protestants\nare in this case. They reject, with disdain, the mysteries for which\nthe Church of Rome shows the greatest respect; and yet, in the matter\nof mysteries, it is indeed difficult to designate the point where the\nmind ought to stop.\n\nSeeing, then, that our doctors, better advised, undoubtedly, than\nthose of the Protestants, have adroitly multiplied mysteries, one is\nnaturally led to conclude, they despaired of governing the mind of\nman, if there was any thing in their religion that was clear,\nintelligible, and natural. More mysterious than the priests of Egypt\nitself, they have found means to change every thing into mystery; the\nvery movements of the body, usages the most indifferent, ceremonies\nthe most frivolous, have become, in the powerful hands of the priests,\nsublime and divine mysteries. In the Roman religion all is magic, all\nis prodigy, all is supernatural. In the decisions of our theologians,\nthe side which they espouse is almost always that which is the most\nabhorrent to reason, the most calculated to confound and overthrow\ncommon sense. In consequence, our priests are by far the most rich,\npowerful, and considerable. The continual want which we have of their\naid to obtain from Heaven that grace which it is their province to\nbring down for us, places us in continual dependence on those\nmarvellous men who have received their commission to treat with the\nDeity, and become the ambassadors between Heaven and us.\n\nEach of our sacraments envelops a great mystery. They are ceremonies\nto which the Divinity, they say, attaches some secret virtue, by\nunseen views, of which we can form no ideas. In _baptism_, without\nwhich no man can be saved, the water sprinkled on the head of the\nchild washes his spiritual soul, and carries away the defilement which\nis a consequence of the sin committed in the person of Adam, who\nsinned for all men. By the mysterious virtue of this water, and of\nsome words equally unintelligible, the infant finds itself reconciled\nto God, as his first father had made him guilty without his knowledge\nand consent. In all this, Madam, you cannot, by possibility,\ncomprehend the complication of these mysteries, with which no\nChristian can dispense, though, assuredly, there is not one believer\nwho knows what the virtue of the marvellous water consists in, which\nis necessary for his regeneration. Nor can you conceive how the\nsupreme and equitable Governor of the universe could impute faults to\nthose who have never been guilty of transgressions. Nor can you\ncomprehend how a wise Deity can attach his favor to a futile ceremony,\nwhich, without changing the nature of the being who has derived an\nexistence it neither commenced nor was consulted in, must, if\nadministered in winter, be attended with serious consequences to the\nhealth of the child.\n\nIn _Confirmation_, a sacrament or ceremony, which, to have any value,\nought to be administered by a bishop, the laying of the hands on the\nhead of the young confirmant makes the Holy Spirit descend upon him,\nand procures the grace of God to uphold him in the faith. You see,\nMadam, that the efficacy of this sacrament is unfortunately lost in my\nperson; for, although in my youth I had been duly confirmed, I have\nnot been preserved against smiling at this faith, nor have I been kept\ninvulnerable in the credence of my priests and forefathers.\n\nIn the sacrament of _Penitence_, or confession, a ceremony which\nconsists in putting a priest in possession of all one's faults, public\nor private, you will discover mysteries equally marvellous. In favor\nof this submission, to which every good Catholic is necessarily\nobliged to submit, a priest, _himself a sinner_, charged with full\npowers by the Deity, pardons and remits, in His name, the sins against\nwhich God is enraged. God reconciles himself with every man who\nhumbles himself before the priest, and in accordance with the orders\nof the latter, he opens heaven to the wretch whom he had before\ndetermined to exclude. If this sacrament doth not always procure\ngrace, very distinguishing to those who use it, it has, at all events,\nthe advantage of rendering them pliable to the clergy, who, by its\nmeans, find an easy sway in their spiritual empire over the human\nmind, an empire that enables them, not unfrequently, to disturb\nsociety, and more often the repose of families, and the very\nconscience of the person confessing.\n\nThere is among the Catholics another sacrament, which contains the\nmost strange mysteries. It is that of the _Eucharist_. Our teachers,\nunder pain of being damned, enjoin us to believe that the Son of God\nis compelled by a priest to quit the abodes of glory, and to come and\nmask himself under the appearance of bread! This bread becomes\nforthwith the body of God--this God multiplies himself in all places,\nand at all times, when and where the priests, scattered over the face\nof the earth, find it necessary to command his presence in the shape\nof bread--yet we see only one and the same God, who receives the\nhomage and adoration of all those good people who find it very\nridiculous in the Egyptians to adore lupines and onions. But the\nCatholics are not simply content with worshipping a bit of bread,\nwhich they consider by the conjurations of a priest as divine; they\neat this bread, and then persuade themselves that they are nourished\nby the body or substance of God himself. The Protestants, it is true,\ndo not admit a mystery so very odd, and regard those who do as real\nidolaters. What then? This marvellous dogma is, without doubt, of the\ngreatest utility to the priests. In the eyes of those who admit it,\nthey become very important gentlemen, who have the power of disposing\nof the Deity, whom they make to descend between their hands; and thus\na Catholic priest is, in fact, the creator of his God!\n\nThere is, also, _Extreme Unction_, a sacrament which consists in\nanointing with oil those sick persons who are about to depart into the\nother world, and which not only soothes their bodily pains, but also\ntakes away the sins of their souls. If it produces these good effects,\nit is an invisible and mysterious method of manifesting obvious\nresults; for we frequently behold sick persons have their fears of\ndeath allayed, though the operation may but too often accelerate their\ndissolution. But our priests are so full of charity, and they interest\nthemselves so greatly in the salvation of souls, that they like rather\nto risk their own health beside the sick bed of persons afflicted with\nthe most contagious diseases, than lose the opportunity of\nadministering their salutary ointment.\n\n_Ordination_ is another very mysterious ceremony, by which the Deity\nsecretly bestows his invisible grace on those whom he has selected to\nfill the office of the holy priesthood. According to the Catholic\nreligion, God gives to the priests the power of making God himself, as\nwe have shown above; a privilege which without doubt cannot be\nsufficiently admired. With respect to the sensible effects of this\nsacrament, and of the visible grace which it confers, they are\nenabled, by the help of some words and certain ceremonies, to change a\nprofane man into one that is sacred; that is to say, who is not\nprofane any longer. By this spiritual metamorphosis, this man becomes\ncapable of enjoying considerable revenues without being obliged to do\nany thing useful for society. On the contrary, heaven itself confers\non him the right of deceiving, of annoying, and of pillaging the\nprofane citizens, who labor for his ease and luxury.\n\nFinally, _Marriage_ is a sacrament that confers mysterious and\ninvisible graces, of which we in truth have no very precise ideas.\nProtestants and Infidels, who look upon marriage as a civil contract,\nand not as a sacrament, receive neither more nor less of its visible\ngrace than the good Catholics. The former see not that those who are\nmarried enjoy by this sacrament any secret virtue, whence they may\nbecome more constant and faithful to the engagements they have\ncontracted. And I believe both you and I, Madam, have known many\npeople on whom it has only conferred the grace of cordially detesting\neach other.\n\nI will not now enter upon the consideration of a multitude of other\nmagic ceremonies, admitted by some Christian sectaries and rejected by\nothers, but to which the devotees who embrace them, attach the most\nlofty ideas, in the firm persuasion, that God will, on that account,\nvisit them with his invisible grace. All these ceremonies, doubtless,\ncontain great mysteries, and the method of handling or speaking of\nthem is exceedingly mysterious. It is thus that the water on which a\npriest has pronounced a few words, contained in his conjuring book,\nacquires the invisible virtue of chasing away wicked spirits, who are\ninvisible by their nature. It is thus that the oil, on which a bishop\nhas muttered some certain formula, becomes capable of communicating to\nmen, and even to some inanimate substances, such as wood, stone,\nmetals, and walls, those invisible virtues which they did not\npreviously possess. In fine, in all the ceremonies of the church, we\ndiscover mysteries, and the vulgar, who comprehend nothing of them,\nare not the less disposed to admire, to be fascinated with, and to\nrespect with a blind devotion. But soon would they cease to have this\nveneration for these fooleries, if they comprehended the design and\nend the priests have in view by enforcing their observance.\n\nThe priests of all nations have begun by being charlatans, castle\nbuilders, divines, and sorcerers. We find men of these characters in\nnations the most ignorant and savage, where they live by the\nignorance and credulity of others. They are regarded by their ignorant\ncountrymen as superior beings, endowed with supernatural gifts,\nfavorites of the very Gods, because the uninquiring multitude see them\nperform things which they take to be mighty marvellous, or which the\nignorant have always considered marvellous. In nations the most\npolished, the people are always the same; persons the most sensible\nare not often of the same ideas, especially on the subject of\nreligion; and the priests, authorized by the ancient folly of the\nmultitude, continue their old tricks, and receive universal applause.\n\nYou are not, then, to be surprised, Madam, if you still behold our\npontiffs and our priests exercise their magical rites, or rear castles\nbefore the eyes of people prejudiced in favor of their ancient\nillusions, and who attach to these mysteries a degree of consequence,\nseeing they are not in a condition to comprehend the motives of the\nfabricators. Every thing that is mysterious has charms for the\nignorant; the marvellous captivates all men; persons the most\nenlightened find it difficult to defend themselves against these\nillusions. Hence you may discover that the priests are always\nopinionatively attached to these rites and ceremonies of their\nworship; and it has never been without some violent revolution that\nthey have been diminished or abrogated. The annihilation of a trifling\nceremony has often caused rivers of blood to flow. The people have\nbelieved themselves lost and undone when one bolder than the rest\nwished to innovate in matters of religion; they have fancied that they\nwere to be deprived of inestimable advantages and invisible but saving\ngrace, which they have supposed to be attached by the Divinity himself\nto some movements of the body. Priests the most adroit have\novercharged religion with ceremonies, and practices, and mysteries.\nThey fancied that all these were so many cords to bind the people to\ntheir interest, to allure them by enthusiasm, and render them\nnecessary to their idle and luxurious existence, which is not spent\nwithout much money extracted from the hard earnings of the people, and\nmuch of that respect which is but the homage of slaves to spiritual\ntyrants.\n\nYou cannot any longer, I persuade myself, Madam, be made the dupe of\nthese holy jugglers, who impose on the vulgar by their marvellous\ntales. You must now be convinced that the things which I have touched\nupon as mysteries are profound absurdities, of which their inventors\ncan render no reasonable account either to themselves or to others.\nYou must now be certified that the movements of the body and other\nreligious ceremonies must be matters perfectly indifferent to the wise\nBeing whom they describe to us as the great mover of all things. You\nconclude, then, that all these marvellous rites, in which our priests\nannounce so much mystery, and in which the people are taught to\nconsider the whole of religion as consisting, are nothing more than\npuerilities, to which people of understanding ought never to submit.\nThat they are usages calculated principally to alarm the minds of the\nweak, and keep in bondage those who have not the courage to throw off\nthe yoke of priests. I am, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER VII.\n\n  Of the pious Rites, Prayers, and Austerities of Christianity.\n\n\nYou now know, Madam, what you ought to attach to the mysteries and\nceremonies of that religion you propose to meditate on, and adore in\nsilence. I proceed now to examine some of those practices to which the\npriests tell us the Deity attaches his complaisance and his favors. In\nconsequence of the false, sinister, contradictory, and incompatible\nideas, which all revealed religions give us of the Deity, the priests\nhave invented a crowd of unreasonable usages, but which are\nconformable to these erroneous notions that they have framed of this\nBeing. God is always regarded as a man full of passion, sensible to\npresents, to flatteries, and marks of submission; or rather as a\nfantastic and punctilious sovereign, who is very seriously angry when\nwe neglect to show him that respect and obeisance which the vanity of\nearthly potentates exacts from their vassals.\n\nIt is after these notions so little agreeable to the Deity, that the\npriests have conjured up a crowd of practices and strange inventions,\nridiculous, inconvenient, and often cruel; but by which they inform us\nwe shall merit the good favor of God, or disarm the wrath of the\nUniversal Lord. With some, all consists in prayers, offerings, and\nsacrifices, with which they fancy God is well pleased. They forget\nthat a God who is good, who knows all things, has no need to be\nsolicited; that a God who is the author of all things has no need to\nbe presented with any part of his workmanship; that a God who knows\nhis power has no need of either flatteries or submissions, to remind\nhim of his grandeur, his power, or his rights; that a God who is Lord\nof all has no need of offerings which belong to himself; that a God\nwho has no need of any thing cannot be won by presents, nor grudge to\nhis creatures the goods which they have received from his divine\nbounty.\n\nFor the want of making these reflections, simple as they are, all the\nreligions in the world are filled with an infinite number of frivolous\npractices, by which men have long strove to render themselves\nacceptable to the Deity. The priests who are always declared to be the\nministers, the favorites, the interpreters of God's will, have\ndiscovered how they might most easily profit by the errors of mankind,\nand the presents which they offer to the Deity. They are thence\ninterested to enter into the false ideas of the people, and even to\nredouble the darkness of their minds. They have invented means to\nplease unknown powers who dispose of their fate--to excite their\ndevotion and their zeal for those invisible beings of whom they were\nthemselves the visible representatives. These priests soon perceived\nthat in laboring for the Gods they labored for themselves, and that\nthey could appropriate the major part of the presents, sacrifices, and\nofferings, which were made to beings who never showed themselves in\norder to claim what their devotees intended for them.\n\nYou thus perceive, Madam, how the priests have made common cause with\nthe Divinity. Their policy thence obliged them to favor and increase\nthe errors of the human kind. They talk of this ineffable Being as of\nan interested monarch, jealous, full of vanity, who gives that it may\nbe restored to him again; who exacts continual signs of submission and\nrespect; who desires, without ceasing, that men may reiterate their\nmarks of respect for him; who wishes to be solicited; who bestows no\ngrace unless it be accorded to importunity for the purpose of making\nit more valuable; and, above all, who allows himself to be appeased\nand propitiated by gifts from which his ministers derive the greatest\nadvantage.\n\nIt is evident that it is upon these ideas borrowed from monarchical\ncourts here below that are founded all the practices, ceremonies, and\nrites that we see established in all the religions of the earth. Each\nsect has endeavored to make its God a monarch the most redoubtable,\nthe greatest, the most despotic, and the most selfish. The people\nacquainted simply with human opinions, and full of debasement, have\nadopted without examination the inventions which the Deity has shown\nthem as the fittest to obtain his favor and soften his wrath. The\npriests fail not to adapt these practices, which they have invented,\nto their own system of religion and personal interest; and the\nignorant and vulgar have allowed themselves to be blindly led by these\nguides. Habit has familiarized them with things upon which they never\nreason, and they make a duty of the routine which has been transmitted\nto them from age to age, and from father to child.\n\nThe infant, as soon as it can be made to understand any thing, is\ntaught mechanically to join its little hands in prayer. His tongue is\nforced to lisp a formula which it does not comprehend, addressed to a\nGod which its understanding can never conceive. In the arms of its\nnurse it is carried into the temple or church, where its eyes are\nhabituated to contemplate spectacles, ceremonies, and pretended\nmysteries, of which, even when it shall have arrived at mature age, it\nwill still understand nothing. If at this latter period any one should\nask the reason of his conduct, or desire to know why he made this\nconduct a sacred and important duty, he could give no explanation,\nexcept that he was instructed in his tender years to respectfully\nobserve certain usages, which he must regard as sacred, as they were\nunintelligible to him. If an attempt was made to undeceive him in\nregard to these habitual futilities, either he would not listen, or\nhe would be irritated against whoever denied the notions rooted in\nhis brain. Any man who wished to lead him to good sense, and who\nreasoned against the habits he had contracted, would be regarded by\nhim as ridiculous and extravagant, or he would repulse him as an\ninfidel and blasphemer, because his instructions lead him thus to\ndesignate every man who fails to pursue the same routine as himself,\nor who does not attach the same ideas as the devotee to things which\nthe latter has never examined.\n\nWhat horror does it not fill the Christian devotee with if you tell\nhim that his priest is unnecessary! What would be his surprise if you\nwere to prove to him, even on the principles of his religion, that the\nprayers which in his infancy he had been taught to consider as the\nmost agreeable to his God, are unworthy and unnecessary to this Deity!\nFor if God knows all, what need is there to remind him of the wants of\nhis creatures whom he loves? If God is a father full of tenderness and\ngoodness, is it necessary to ask him to \"give us day by day our daily\nbread\"? If this God, so good, foresaw the wants of his children, and\nknew much better than they what they could not know of themselves,\nwhence is it he bids them importune him to grant them their requests?\nIf this God is immutable and wise, how can his creatures change the\nfixed resolution of the Deity? If this God is just and good, how can\nhe injure us, or place us in a situation to require the use of that\nprayer which entreats the Deity _not to lead us into temptation_?\n\nYou see by this, Madam, that there is but a very small portion of what\nthe Christians pretend they understand and consider absolutely\nnecessary that accords at all with what they tell us has been dictated\nby God himself. You see that the Lord's prayer itself contains many\nabsurdities and ideas totally contrary to those which every Christian\nought to have of his God. If you ask a Christian why he repeats\nwithout ceasing this vain formula, on which he never reflects, he can\nassign little other reason than that he was taught in his infancy to\nclasp his hands, repeat words the meaning of which his priest, not\nhimself, is alone bound to understand. He may probably add that he has\never been taught to consider this formula requisite, as it was the\nmost sacred and the most proper to merit the favor of Heaven.\n\nWe should, without doubt, form the same judgment of that multitude of\nprayers which our teachers recommend to us daily. And if we believe\nthem, man, to please God, ought to pass a large portion of his\nexistence in supplicating Heaven to pour down its blessings on him.\nBut if God is good, if he cherishes his creatures, if he knows their\nwants, it seems superfluous to pray to him. If God changes not, he has\nnever promised to alter his secret decrees, or, if he has, he is\nvariable in his fancies, like man; to what purpose are all our\npetitions to him? If God is offended with us, will he not reject\nprayers which insult his goodness, his justice, and infinite wisdom?\n\nWhat motives, then, have our priests to inculcate constantly the\nnecessity of prayer? It is that they may thereby hold the minds of\nmankind in opinions more advantageous to themselves. They represent\nGod to us under the traits of a monarch difficult of access, who\ncannot be easily pacified, but of whom they are the ministers, the\nfavorites, and servants. They become intercessors between this\ninvisible Sovereign and his subjects of this nether world. They sell\nto the ignorant their intercession with the All-powerful; they pray\nfor the people, and by society they are recompensed with real\nadvantages, with riches, honors, and ease. It is on the necessity of\nprayer that our priests, our monks, and all religious men establish\ntheir lazy existence; that they profess to win a place in heaven for\ntheir followers and paymasters, who, without this intercession, could\nneither obtain the favor of God, nor avert his chastisements and the\ncalamities the world is so often visited with. The prayers of the\npriests are regarded as a universal remedy for all evils. All the\nmisfortunes of nations are laid before these spiritual guides, who\ngenerally find public calamities a source of profit to themselves, as\nit is then they are amply paid for their supposed mediation between\nthe Deity and his suffering creatures. They never teach the people\nthat these things spring from the course of nature and of laws they\ncannot control. O, no. They make the world believe they are the\njudgments of an angry God. The evils for which they can find no\nremedy are pronounced marks of the divine wrath; they are\nsupernatural, and the priests must be applied to. God, whom they call\nso good, appears sometimes obstinately deaf to their entreaties. Their\ncommon Parent, so tender, appears to derange the order of nature to\nmanifest his anger. The God who is so just, sometimes punishes men who\ncannot divine the cause of his vengeance. Then, in their distress,\nthey flee to the priests, who never fail to find motives for the\ndivine wrath. They tell them that God has been offended; that he has\nbeen neglected; that he exacts prayers, offerings, and sacrifices;\nthat he requires, in order to be appeased, that his ministers should\nreceive more consideration, should be heard more attentively, and\nshould be more enriched. Without this, they announce to the vulgar\nthat their harvests will fail, that their fields will be inundated,\nthat pestilence, famine, war, and contagion will visit the earth; and\nwhen these misfortunes have arrived, they declare they may be removed\nby means of prayers.\n\nIf fear and terror permitted men to reason, they would discover that\nall the evils, as well as the good things of this life, are necessary\nconsequences of the order of nature. They would perceive that a wise\nGod, immutable in his conduct, cannot allow any thing to transpire but\naccording to those laws of which he is regarded as the author. They\nwould discover that the calamities, sterility, maladies, contagions,\nand even death itself are effects as necessary as happiness,\nabundance, health, and life itself. They would find that wars, wants,\nand famine are often the effects of human imprudence; that they would\nsubmit to accidents which they could not prevent, and guard against\nthose they could foresee; they would remedy by simple and natural\nmeans those against which they possessed resources; and they would\nundeceive themselves in regard to those supernatural means and those\nuseless prayers of which the experience of so many ages ought to have\ndisabused men, if they were capable of correcting their religious\nprejudices.\n\nThis would not, indeed, redound to the advantage of the priests, since\nthey would become useless if men perceived the inefficacy of their\nprayers, the futility of their practices, and the absence of all\nrational foundation for those exercises of piety which place the human\nrace upon their knees. They compel their votaries always to run down\nthose who discredit their pretensions. They terrify the weak minded by\nfrightful ideas which they hold out to them of the Deity. They forbid\nthem to reason; they make them deaf to reason, by conforming them to\nordinances the most out of the way, the most unreasonable, and the\nmost contradictory to the very principles on which they pretend to\nestablish them. They change practices, arbitrary in themselves, or, at\nmost, indifferent and useless, into important duties, which they\nproclaim the most essential of all duties, and the most sacred and\nmoral. They know that man ceases to reason in proportion as he\nsuffers or is wretched. Hence, if he experiences real misfortunes, the\npriests make sure of him; if he is not unfortunate they menace him;\nthey create imaginary fears and troubles.\n\nIn fine, Madam, when you wish to examine with your own eyes, and not\nby the help of the pretensions set up and imposed on you by the\nministers of religion, you will be compelled to acknowledge the things\nwe have been considering as useful to the priests alone; they are\nuseless to the Deity, and to society they are often very obviously\npernicious. Of what utility can it be in any family to behold an\nexcess of devotion in the mother of that family? One would suppose it\nis not necessary for a lady to pass all her time in prayers and in\nmeditations, to the neglect of other duties. Much less is it the part\nof a Catholic mother to be closeted in mystic conversation with her\npriest. Will her husband, her children, and her friends applaud her\nwho loses most of her time in prayers, and meditations, and practices,\nwhich can tend only to render her sour, unhappy, and discontented?\nWould it not be much better that a father or a mother of a family\nshould be occupied with what belonged to their domestic affairs than\nto spend their time in masses, in hearing sermons, in meditating on\nmysterious and unintelligible dogmas, or boasting about exercises of\npiety that tend to nothing?\n\nMadam, do you not find in the country you inhabit a great many\ndevotees who are sunk in debt, whose fortune is squandered away on\npriests, and who are incapable of retrieving it? Content to put their\nconscience to rights on religious matters, they neither trouble\nthemselves about the education of their children, nor the arrangement\nof their fortune, nor the discharge of their debts. Such men as would\nbe thrown into despair did they omit one mass, will consent to leave\ntheir creditors without their money, ruined by their negligence as\nmuch as by their principles. In truth, Madam, on what side soever you\nsurvey this religion, you will find it good for nothing.\n\nWhat shall we say of those fetes which are so multiplied amongst us?\nAre they not evidently pernicious to society? Are not all days the\nsame to the Eternal? Are there _gala_ days in heaven? Can God be\nhonored by the business of an artisan or a merchant, who, in place of\nearning bread on which his family may subsist, squanders away his time\nin the church, and afterwards goes to spend his money in the public\nhouse? It is necessary, the priests will tell you, for man to have\nrepose. But will he not seek repose when he is fatigued by the labor\nof his hands? Is it not more necessary that every man should labor in\nhis vocation than go to a temple to chant over a service which\nbenefits only the priests, or hear a sermon of which he can understand\nnothing? And do not such as find great scruple in doing a necessary\nlabor on Sunday frequently sit down and get drunk on that day,\nconsuming in a few hours the receipts of their week's labor? But it\nis for the interest of the clergy that all other shops should be shut\nwhen theirs are open. We may thence easily discover why fetes are\nnecessary.\n\nIs it not contrary to all the notions which we can form of the\ngoodness and wisdom of the Divinity, that religion should form into\nduties both abstinence and privations, or that penitences and\nausterities should be the sole proofs of virtue? What should be said\nof a father who should place his children at a table loaded with the\nfruits of the earth, but who, nevertheless, should debar them from\ntouching certain of them, though both nature and reason dictated their\nuse and nutriment? Can we, then, suppose that a Deity wise and good\ninterdicts to his creatures the enjoyment of innocent pleasures, which\nmay contribute to render life agreeable, or that a God who has created\nall things, every object the most desirable to the nourishment and\nhealth of man, should nevertheless forbid him their use? The Christian\nreligion appears to doom its votaries to the punishment of Tantalus.\nThe most part of the superstitions in the world have made of God a\ncapricious and jealous sovereign, who amuses himself by tempting the\npassions and exciting the desires of his slaves, without permitting\nthem the gratification of the one or the enjoyment of the other. We\nsee among all sects the portraiture of a chagrined Deity, the enemy of\ninnocent amusements, and offended at the well being of his creatures.\nWe see in all countries many men so foolish as to imagine they will\nmerit heaven by fighting against their nature, refusing the goods of\nfortune, and tormenting themselves under an idea that they will\nthereby render themselves agreeable to God. Especially do they believe\nthat they will by these means disarm the fury of God, and prevent the\ninflictions of his chastisements, if they immolate themselves to a\nbeing who always requires victims.\n\nWe find these atrocious, fanatical, and senseless ideas in the\nChristian religion, which supposes its God as cruel to exact\nsufferings from men as death from his only Son. If a God exempt from\nall sin is himself also the sufferer for the sins of all, which is the\ndoctrine of those who maintain universal redemption, it is not\nsurprising to see men that are sinners making it a duty to assemble in\nlarge meetings, and invent the means of rendering themselves\nmiserable. These gloomy notions have banished men to the desert. They\nhave fanatically renounced society and the pleasures of life, to be\nburied alive, believing they would merit heaven if they afflicted\nthemselves with stripes and passed their existence in mummical\nceremonies, as injurious to their health as useless to their country.\nAnd these are the false ideas by which the Divinity is transformed\ninto a tyrant as barbarous as insensible, who, agreeably to\n_priestcraft_, has prescribed how both men and women might live in\nennui, penitence, sorrow, and tears; for the perfection of monastic\ninstitutions consists in the ingenious art of self-torture. But\nsacerdotal pride finds its account in these austerities. Rigid monks\nglory in barbarous rules, the observance of which attracts the respect\nof the credulous, who imagine that men who torment themselves are\nindeed the favorites of heaven. But these monks, who follow these\naustere rules, are fanatics, who sacrifice themselves to the pride of\nthe clergy who live in luxury and in wealth, although their duped,\nimbecile brethren have been known to make it a point of honor to die\nof famine.\n\nHow often, Madam, has your attention not been aroused when you\nrecalled to mind the fate of the poor religious men of the desert,\nwhom an unnecessary vow has condemned, as it were voluntarily, to a\nlife as rigorous as if spent in a prison! Seduced by the enthusiasm of\nyouth, or forced by the orders of inhuman parents, they have been\nobliged to carry to the tomb the chains of their captivity. They have\nbeen obliged to submit without appeal to a stern superior, who finds\nno consolation in the discharge of his slavish task but in making his\nempire more hard to those beneath him. You have seen unfortunate young\nladies obliged to renounce their rank in society, the innocent\npleasures of youth, the joys of their sex, to groan forever under a\nrigorous despotism, to which indiscreet vows had bound them. All\nmonasteries present to us an odious group of fanatics, who have\nseparated themselves from society to pass the remainder of their lives\nin unhappiness. The society of these devotees is calculated solely to\nrender their lives mutually more unsupportable. But it seems strange\nthat men should expect to merit heaven by suffering the torments of\nhell on earth; yet so it is, and reason has too often proved\ninsufficient to convince them of the contrary.\n\nIf this religion does not call all Christians to these sublime\nperfections, it nevertheless enjoins on all its votaries suffering and\nmortifying of the body. The church prescribes privations to all her\nchildren, and abstinences and fasts; these things they practise among\nus as duties; and the devotees imagine they render themselves very\nagreeable to the Divinity when they have scrupulously fulfilled those\nminute and puerile practices, by which they tell us that the priests\nhave proof whether their patience and obedience be such as are\ndictated by and acceptable to Heaven. What a ridiculous idea is it,\nfor example, to make of the Deity a trio of persons; to teach the\nfaithful that this Deity takes notice of what kinds of food his people\neat; that he is displeased if they eat beef or mutton, but that he is\ndelighted if they eat beans and fish! In good sooth, Madam, our\npriests, who sometimes give us very lofty ideas of God, please\nthemselves but too often with making him strangely contemptible!\n\nThe life of a good Christian or of a devotee is crowded with a host of\nuseless practices, which would be at least pardonable if they procured\nany good for society. But it is not for that purpose that our priests\nmake so much ado about them; they only wish to have submissive slaves,\nsufficiently blind to respect their caprices as the orders of a wise\nGod; sufficiently stupid to regard all their practices as divine\nduties, and they who scrupulously observe them as the real favorites\nof the Omnipotent. What good can there result to the world from the\nabstinence of meats, so much enjoined on some Christians, especially\nwhen other Christians judge this injunction a very ridiculous law, and\ncontrary to reason and the order of things established in nature? It\nis not difficult to perceive amongst us that this injunction, openly\nviolated by the rich, is an oppression on the poor, who are compelled\nto pay dearly for an indifferent, often an unwholesome diet, that\ninjures rather than repairs the natural strength of their\nconstitution. Besides, do not the priests sell this permission to the\nrich, to transgress an injunction the poor must not violate with\nimpunity? In fine, they seem to have multiplied our practices, our\nduties, and our tortures, to have the advantage of multiplying our\nfaults, and making a good bargain out of our pretended crimes.\n\nThe more we examine religion the more reason shall we have to be\nconvinced that it is beneficial to the _priests alone_. Every part of\nthis religion conspires to render us submissive to the fantasies of\nour spiritual guides, to labor for their grandeur, to contribute to\ntheir riches. They appoint us to perform disadvantageous duties; they\nprescribe impossible perfections, purposely that we may transgress;\nthey have thereby engendered in pious minds scruples and difficulties\nwhich they condescendingly appease for money. A devotee is obliged to\nobserve, without ceasing, the useless and frivolous rules of his\npriest, and even then he is subject to continual reproaches; he is\nperpetually in want of his priest to expiate his pretended faults with\nwhich he charges himself, and the omission of duties that he regards\nas the most important acts of his life, but which are rarely such as\ninterest society or benefit it by their performance. By a train of\nreligious prejudices with which the priests infect the mind of their\nweak devotees, these believe themselves infinitely more culpable when\nthey have omitted some useless practice, than if they had committed\nsome great injustice or atrocious sin against humanity. It is commonly\nsufficient for the devotees to be on good terms with God, whether they\nbe consistent in their actions with man, or in the practice of those\nduties they owe to their fellow beings.\n\nBesides, Madam, what real advantage does society derive from repeated\nprayers, abstinences, privations, seclusions, meditations, and\nausterities, to which religion attaches so much value? Do all the\nmysterious practices of the priests produce any real good? Are they\ncapable of calming the passions, of correcting vices, and of giving\nvirtue to those who most scrupulously observe them? Do we not daily\nsee persons who believe themselves damned if they forget a mass, if\nthey eat a fowl on Friday, if they neglect a confession, though they\nare guilty at the same time of great dereliction to society? Do they\nnot hold the conduct of those very unjust, and very cruel, who happen\nto have the misfortune of not thinking and doing as they think and\nact? These practices, out of which a great number of men have created\nessential duties, but too commonly absorb all moral duties; for if the\ndevotees are over-religious, it is rare to find them virtuous. Content\nwith doing what religion requires, they trouble themselves very little\nabout other matters. They believe themselves the favored of God, and\nthat it is a proof of this if they are detested by men, whose good\nopinion they are seldom anxious to deserve. The whole life of a\ndevotee is spent in fulfilling, with scrupulous exactitude, duties\nindifferent to God, unnecessary to himself, and useless to others. He\nfancies he is virtuous when he has performed the rites which his\nreligion prescribes; when he has meditated on mysteries of which he\nunderstands nothing; when he has struggled with sadness to do things\nin which a man of sense can perceive no advantage; in fine, when he\nhas endeavored to practise, as much as in him lies, the Evangelical or\nChristian virtues, in which he thinks all morality essentially\nconsists.\n\nI shall proceed in my next letter to examine these virtues, and to\nprove to you that they are contrary to the ideas we ought to form of\nGod, useless to ourselves, and often dangerous to others. In the mean\ntime, I am, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER VIII.\n\n  Of Evangelical Virtues and Christian Perfection.\n\n\nIf we believe the priests, we shall be persuaded, that the Christian\nreligion, by the beauty of its morals, excels philosophy and all the\nother religious systems in the world. According to them, the\nunassisted reason of the human mind could never have conceived sounder\ndoctrines of morality, more heroical virtues, or precepts more\nbeneficial to society. But this is not all; the virtues known or\npractised among the heathens are considered as _false virtues_; far\nfrom deserving our esteem, and the favor of the Almighty, they are\nentitled to nothing but contempt; and, indeed, are _flagrant sins_ in\nthe sight of God. In short, the priests labor to convince us, that the\nChristian ethics are purely divine, and the lessons inculcated so\nsublime, that they could proceed from nothing less than the Deity.\n\nIf, indeed, we call that divine which men can neither conceive nor\nperform; if by divine virtues we are to understand virtues to which\nthe mind of man cannot possibly attach the least idea of utility; if\nby divine perfections are meant those qualities which are not only\nforeign to the nature of man, but which are irreconcilably repugnant\nto it,--then, indeed, we shall be compelled to acknowledge that the\nmorals of Christianity are divine; at least we shall be assured that\nthey have nothing in common with that system of morality which arises\nout of the nature and relations of men, but on the contrary, that\nthey, in many instances, confound the best conceptions we are able to\nform of virtue.\n\nGuided by the light of reason, we comprehend under the name of virtue\nthose habitual dispositions of the heart which tend to the happiness\nand the real advantage of those with whom we associate, and by the\nexercise of which our fellow-creatures are induced to feel a\nreciprocal interest in our welfare. Under the Christian system the\nname of virtues is bestowed upon dispositions which it is impossible\nto possess without supernatural grace; and which, when possessed, are\nuseless, if not injurious, both to ourselves and others. The morality\nof Christians is, in good truth, the morality of another world. Like\nthe philosopher of antiquity, they keep their eyes fixed upon the\nstars till they fall into a well, unperceived, at their feet. The only\nobject which their scheme of morals proposes to itself is, to disgust\ntheir minds with the things of this world, in order that they may\nplace their entire affections upon things above, of which they have no\nknowledge whatever; their happiness here below forms no part of their\nconsideration; this life, in the view of a Christian, is nothing but a\npilgrimage, leading to another existence, infinitely more interesting\nto his hopes, because infinitely beyond the reach of his\nunderstanding. Besides, before we can deserve to be happy in the\nworld which we do not know, we are informed that we must be miserable\nin the world which we do know; and, above all things, in order to\nsecure to ourselves happiness hereafter, it is especially necessary\nthat we altogether resign the use of our own reason; that is to say,\nwe must seal up our eyes in utter darkness, and surrender ourselves to\nthe guidance of our priests. These are the principles upon which the\nfabric of Christian morals is evidently constructed.\n\nLet us now proceed, Madam, to a more detailed examination of the\nvirtues upon which the Christian religion is built. These virtues are\nEvangelical, &c. If destitute of them, we are assured that it is in\nvain for us to seek the favor of the Deity.\n\nOf these virtues the first is FAITH. According to the doctrine of the\nchurch, faith is the gift of God, a supernatural virtue, by means of\nwhich we are inspired with a firm belief in God, and in all that he\nhas vouchsafed to reveal to man, although our reason is utterly unable\nto comprehend it. Faith is, says the church, founded upon the word of\nGod, who can neither deceive nor be deceived. Thus faith supposes,\nthat God has spoken to man--but what evidence have we that God has\nspoken to man? The Holy Scriptures. Who is it that assures us the Holy\nScriptures contain the word of God? It is the church. But who is it\nthat assures us the church cannot and will not deceive us? The Holy\nScriptures. Thus the Scriptures bear witness to the infallibility of\nthe church--and the church, in return, testifies the truth of the\nScriptures. From this statement of the case, you must perceive, that\nfaith is nothing more than an implicit belief in the priests, whose\nassurances we adopt as the foundation of opinions in themselves\nincomprehensible. It is true, that as a confirmation of the truth of\nScripture, we are referred to miracles--but it is these identical\nScriptures which report to us and testify of those very miracles. Of\nthe absolute impossibility of any miracles, I flatter myself that I\nhave already convinced you.\n\nBesides, I cannot but think, Madam, that you must be, by this time,\nthoroughly satisfied how absurd it is to say that the understanding is\nconvinced of any thing which it does not comprehend; the insight I\nhave given you into the books which the Christians call sacred, must\nhave left upon your mind a firm persuasion, that they never could have\nproceeded from a wise, a good, an omniscient, a just, and all-powerful\nGod. If, then, we cannot yield them a real belief, what we call faith\ncan be nothing more than a blind and irrational adherence to a system\ndevised by priests, whose crafty selfishness has made them careful\nfrom the earliest infancy to fill our tender minds with prepossessions\nin favor of doctrines which they judged favorable to their own\ninterests. Interested, however, as they are in the opinions which they\nendeavor to force upon us as truth, is it possible for these priests\nto believe them themselves? Unquestionably not--the thing is out of\nnature. They are men like ourselves, furnished with the same\nfaculties, and neither they nor we can be convinced of any thing which\nlies equally beyond the scope of us all. If they possessed an\nadditional sense, we should perhaps allow that they might comprehend\nwhat is unintelligible to us; but as we clearly see that they have no\nintellectual privileges above the rest of the species, we are\ncompelled to conclude, that their faith, like the faith of other\nChristians, is a blind acquiescence in opinions derived, without\nexamination, from their predecessors; and that they must be hypocrites\nwhen they pretend to _believe_ in doctrines of the truth of which they\ncannot be _convinced_, since these doctrines have been shown to be\ndestitute of that degree of evidence which is necessary to impress the\nmind with a feeling of their probability, much less of their\ncertainty.\n\nIt will be said that faith, or the faculty of believing things\nincredible, is the gift of God, and can only be known to those upon\nwhom God has bestowed the favor. My answer is, that, if that be the\ncase, we have no alternative but to wait till the grace of God shall\nbe shed upon us--and that in the mean time we may be allowed to doubt\nwhether credulity, stupidity, and the perversion of reason can\nproceed, as favors, from a rational Deity who has endowed us with the\npower of thinking. If God be infinitely wise, how can folly and\nimbecility be pleasing to him? If there were such a thing as faith,\nproceeding from grace, it would be the privilege of seeing things\notherwise than as God has made them; and if that were so, it follows,\nthat the whole creation would be a mere cheat. No man can believe the\nBible to be the production of God without doing violence to every\nconsistent notion that he is able to form of Deity! No man can believe\nthat one God is three Gods, and that those three Gods are one God,\nwithout renouncing all pretension to common sense, and persuading\nhimself that there is no such thing as certainty in the world.\n\nThus, Madam, we are bound to suspect that what the church calls a gift\nfrom above, a supernatural grace, is, in fact, a perfect blindness, an\nirrational credulity, a brutish submission, a vague uncertainty, a\nstupid ignorance, by which we are led to acquiesce, without\ninvestigation, in every dogma that our priests think fit to impose\nupon us--by which we are led to adopt, without knowing why, the\npretended opinions of men who can have no better means of arriving at\nthe truth than we have. In short, we are authorized in suspecting that\nno motive but that of blinding us, in order more effectually to\ndeceive us, can actuate those men who are eternally preaching to us\nabout a virtue which, if it could exist, would throw into utter\nconfusion the simplest and clearest perceptions of the human mind.\n\nThis supposition is amply confirmed by the conduct of our\necclesiastics--forgetting what they have told us, that grace is the\ngratuitous present of God, bestowed or withheld at his sovereign\npleasure, they nevertheless indulge their wrath against all those who\nhave not received the gift of faith; they keep up one incessant\nanathema against all unbelievers, and nothing less than absolute\nextermination of heresy can appease their anger wherever they have the\nstrength to accomplish it. So that heretics and unbelievers are made\naccountable for the grace of God, although they never received it;\nthey are punished in this world for those advantages which God has not\nbeen pleased to extend to them in their journey to the next. In the\nestimation of priests and devotees, the want of faith is the most\nunpardonable of all offences--it is precisely that offence which, in\nthe cruelty of their absurd injustice, they visit with the last rigors\nof punishment, for you cannot be ignorant, Madam, that in all\ncountries where the clergy possess sufficient influence, the flames of\npriestly charity are lighted up to consume all those who are deficient\nin the prescribed allowance of faith.\n\nWhen we inquire the motive for their unjust and senseless proceedings,\nwe are told that faith is the most necessary of all things, that faith\nis of the most essential service to morals, that without faith a man\nis a dangerous and wicked wretch, a pest to society. And, after all,\nis it our own choice to have faith? Can we believe just what we\nplease? Does it depend upon ourselves not to think a proposition\nabsurd which our understanding shows us to be absurd? How could we\navoid receiving, in our infancy, whatever impressions and opinions\nour teachers and relations chose to implant in us? And where is the\nman who can boast that he has faith--that he is fully convinced of\nmysteries which he cannot conceive, and wonders which he cannot\ncomprehend?\n\nUnder these circumstances how can faith be serviceable to morals? If\nno one can have faith but upon the assurance of another, and\nconsequently cannot entertain a real conviction, what becomes of the\nsocial virtues? Admitting that faith were possible, what connection\ncan exist between such occult speculations and the manifest duties of\nmankind, duties which are palpable to every one who, in the least,\nconsults his reason, his interest, or the welfare of the society to\nwhich he belongs? Before I can be satisfied of the advantages of\njustice, temperance, and benevolence, must I first believe in the\nTrinity, the Incarnation, the Eucharist, and all the fables of the Old\nTestament? If I believe in all the atrocious murders attributed by the\nBible to that God whom I am bound to consider as the fountain of\njustice, wisdom, and goodness, is it not likely that I shall feel\nencouraged to the commission of crimes when I find them sanctioned by\nsuch an example? Although unable to discover the value of so many\nmysteries which I cannot understand, or of so many fanciful and\ncumbersome ceremonies prescribed by the church, am I, on that account,\nto be denounced as a more dangerous citizen than those who persecute,\ntorment, and destroy every one of their fellow-creatures who does not\nthink and act at their dictation? The evident result of all these\nconsiderations must be, that he who has a lively faith and a blind\nzeal for opinions contradictory to common sense, is more irrational,\nand consequently more wicked than the man whose mind is untainted by\nsuch detestable doctrines; for when once the priests have gained their\nfatal ascendency over his mind, and have persuaded him that, by\ncommitting all sorts of enormities, he is doing the work of the Lord,\nthere can be no doubt that he will make greater havoc in the happiness\nof the world, than the man whose reason tells him that such excesses\ncannot be acceptable in the sight of God.\n\nThe advocates of the church will here interrupt me, by alleging that\nif divested of those sentiments which religion inspires, men would no\nlonger live under the influence of motives strong enough to induce an\nabstinence from vice, or to urge them on in the career of virtue when\nobstructed by painful sacrifices. In a word, it will be affirmed that\nunless men are convinced of the existence of an avenging and\nremunerating God, they are released from every motive to fulfil their\nduties to each other in the present life.\n\nYou are, doubtless, Madam, quite sensible of the futility of such\npretences, put forth by priests who, in order to render themselves\nmore necessary, are indefatigable in endeavoring to persuade us that\ntheir system is indispensable to the maintenance of social order. To\nannihilate their sophistries it is sufficient to reflect upon the\nnature of man, his true interests, and the end for which society is\nformed. Man is a feeble being, whose necessities render him constantly\ndependent upon the support of others, whether it be for the\npreservation or the pleasure of his existence; he has no means of\ninteresting others in his welfare except by his manner of conducting\nhimself towards them; that conduct which renders him an object of\naffection to others is called virtue--whatever is pernicious to\nsociety is called crime--and where the consequences are injurious only\nto the individual himself, it is called vice. Thus every man must\nimmediately perceive that he consults his own happiness by advancing\nthat of others--that vices, however cautiously disguised from public\nobservation, are, nevertheless, fraught with ruin to him who practises\nthem--and that crimes are sure to render the perpetrator odious or\ncontemptible in the eyes of his associates, who are necessary to his\nown happiness. In short, education, public opinion, and the laws point\nout to us our mutual duties much more clearly than the chimeras of an\nincomprehensible religion.\n\nEvery man on consulting with himself will feel indubitably that he\ndesires his own conservation; experience will teach him both what he\nought to do and what to avoid to arrive at this end; in consequence he\nwill shrink from those excesses which endanger his being; he will\ndebar himself from those gratifications which in their course would\nrender his existence miserable; and he would make sacrifices, if it\nwas necessary, in the view of procuring himself advantages more real\nthan those of which he momentarily deprived himself. Thus he would\nknow what he owes to himself and what he owes to others.\n\nHere, Madam, you have a short but perfect summary of all morals,\nderived, as they must be, from the nature of man, the uniform\nexperience and the universal reason of mankind. These precepts are\ncompulsory upon our minds, for they show us that the consequences of\nour conduct flow from our actions with as natural and inevitable a\ncertainty as the return of a stone to the earth after the impetus is\nexhausted which detained it in the air. It is natural and inevitable\nthat the man who employs himself in doing good must be preferred to\nthe man who does mischief. Every thinking being must be penetrated\nwith the truth of this incontrovertible maxim, and all the ponderous\nvolumes of theology that ever were composed can add nothing to the\nforce of his conviction; every thinking being will, therefore, avoid a\nconduct calculated to injure either himself or others; he will feel\nhimself under the necessity of doing good to others, as the only\nmethod of obtaining solid happiness for himself, and of conciliating\nto himself those sentiments on the part of others, without which he\ncould derive no charms from society.\n\nYou perceive, then, Madam, that _faith_ cannot in any manner\ncontribute to the correction of social conduct, and you will feel\nthat the popular supernatural notions cannot add any thing to the\nobligations that our nature imposes upon us. In fact, the more\nmysterious and incomprehensible are the dogmas of the church, the more\nlikely are they to draw us aside from the plain dictates of Nature and\nthe straight-forward directions of Reason, whose voice is incapable of\nmisleading us. A candid survey of the causes which produce an infinity\nof evils that afflict society will quickly point out the speculative\ntenets of theology as their most fruitful source. The intoxication of\nenthusiasm and the frenzy of fanaticism concur in overpowering reason,\nand by rendering men blind and unreflecting, convert them into enemies\nboth of themselves and the rest of the world. It is impossible for the\nworshippers of a tyrannical, partial, and cruel God to practise the\nduties of justice and philanthropy. As soon as the priests have\nsucceeded in stifling within us the commands of Reason, they have\nalready converted us into slaves, in whom they can kindle whatever\npassions it may please them to inspire us with.\n\nTheir interest, indeed, requires that we should be slaves. They exact\nfrom us the surrender of our reason, because our reason contradicts\ntheir impostures, and would ruin their plans of aggrandizement. Faith\nis the instrument by which they enslave us and make us subservient to\ntheir own ambition. Hence arises their zeal for the propagation of the\nfaith; hence arises their implacable hostility to science, and to all\nthose who refuse submission to their yoke; hence arises their\nincessant endeavor to establish the dominion of Faith, (that is to\nsay, their own dominion,) even by fire and sword, the only arguments\nthey condescend to employ.\n\nIt must be confessed that society derives but little advantage from\nthis supernatural faith which the church has exalted into the first of\nvirtues. As it regards God, it is perfectly useless to him, since if\nhe wishes mankind to be convinced, it is sufficient that he wills them\nto be so. It is utterly unworthy of the supreme wisdom of God, who\ncannot exhibit himself to mortals in a manner contradictory to the\nreason with which he has endowed them. It is unworthy of the divine\njustice, which cannot require from mankind to be convinced of that\nwhich they cannot understand. It denies the very existence of God\nhimself, by inculcating a belief totally subversive of the only\nrational idea we are able to form of the Divinity.\n\nAs it regards morality, faith is also useless. Faith cannot render it\neither more sacred or more necessary than it already is by its own\ninherent essence, and by the nature of man. Faith is not only useless,\nbut injurious to society, since, under the plea of its pretended\nnecessity, it frequently fills the world with deplorable troubles and\nhorrid crimes. In short, faith is self-contradictory, since by it we\nare required to believe in things inconsistent with each other, and\neven incompatible with the principles laid down in the books which we\nhave already investigated, and which contain what we are commanded to\nbelieve.\n\nTo whom, then, is faith found to be advantageous? To a few men, only,\nwho, availing themselves of its influence to degrade the human mind,\ncontrive to render the labor of the whole world tributary to their own\nluxury, splendor, and power. Are the nations of the earth any happier\nfor their faith, or their blind reliance on priests? Certainly not. We\ndo not there find more morality, more virtue, more industry, or more\nhappiness; but, on the contrary, wherever the priests are powerful,\nthere the people are sure to be found abject in their minds and\nsqualid in their condition.\n\nBut Hope--Hope, the second in order of the Christian perfections, is\never at hand to console us for the evils inflicted by Faith. We are\ncommanded to be firmly convinced that those who have faith, that is to\nsay, those who believe in priests, shall be amply rewarded in the\nother world for their meritorious submission in this. Thus hope is\nfounded on faith, in the same manner as faith is established upon\nhope; faith enjoins us to entertain a devout hope that our faith will\nbe rewarded. And what is it we are told to hope for? For unspeakable\nbenefits; that is, benefits for which language contains no expression.\nSo that, after all, we know not what it is we are to hope for. And how\ncan we feel a hope or even a wish for any object that is undefinable?\nHow can priests incessantly speak to us of things of which they, at\nthe same time, acknowledge it is impossible for us to form any ideas?\n\nIt thus appears that hope and faith have one common foundation; the\nsame blow which overturns the one necessarily levels the other with\nthe ground. But let us pause a moment, and endeavor to discover the\nadvantages of Christian hope amongst men. It encourages to the\npractice of virtue; it supports the unfortunate under the stroke of\naffliction; and consoles the believer in the hour of adversity. But\nwhat encouragement, what support, what consolation can be imparted to\nthe mind from these undefined and undefinable shadows? No one, indeed,\nwill deny that hope is sufficiently useful to the priests, who never\nfail to call in its assistance for the vindication of Providence,\nwhenever any of the elect have occasion to complain of the unmerited\nhardship or the transient injustice of his dispensations. Besides,\nthese priests, notwithstanding their beautiful systems, find\nthemselves unable to fulfil the high-sounding promises they so\nliberally make to all the faithful, and are frequently at a loss to\nexplain the evils which they bring upon their flocks by means of the\nquarrels they engage in, and the false notions of religion they\nentertain; on these occasions the priests have a standing appeal to\nhope, telling their dupes that man was not created for this world,\nthat heaven is his home, and that his sufferings here will be\ncounterbalanced by indescribable bliss hereafter. Thus, like quacks,\nwhose nostrums have ruined the health of their patients, they have\nstill left to themselves the advantage of selling hopes to those whom\nthey know themselves unable to cure. Our priests resemble some of our\nphysicians, who begin by frightening us into our complaints, in order\nthat they may make us customers for the hopes which they afterwards\nsell to us for their weight in gold. This traffic constitutes, in\nreality, all that is called religion.\n\nThe third of the Christian virtues is Charity; that is, to love God\nabove all things, and our neighbors as ourselves. But before we are\nrequired to love God above all things, it seems reasonable that\nreligion should condescend to represent him as worthy of our love. In\ngood faith, Madam, is it possible to feel that the God of the\nChristians is entitled to our love? Is it possible to feel any other\nsentiments than those of aversion towards a partial, capricious,\ncruel, revengeful, jealous, and sanguinary tyrant? How can we\nsincerely love the most terrible of beings,--the living God, into\nwhose hands it is dreadful to think of falling,--the God who can\nconsign to eternal damnation those very creatures who, without his own\nconsent, would never have existed? Are our theologians aware of what\nthey say, when they tell us that the fear of God is the fear of a\nchild for its parent, which is mingled with love? Are we not bound to\nhate, can we by any means avoid detesting, a barbarous father, whose\ninjustice is so boundless as to punish the whole human race, though\ninnocent, in order to revenge himself upon two individuals for the sin\nof the apple, which sin he himself might have prevented if he had\nthought proper? In short, Madam, it is a physical impossibility to\nlove above all things a God whose whole conduct, as described in the\nBible, fills us with a freezing horror. If, therefore, the love of\nGod, as the Jansenists assert, is indispensable to salvation, we\ncannot wonder to find that the elect are so few. Indeed, there are not\nmany persons who can restrain themselves from hating this God; and the\ndoctrine of the Jesuits is, that to abstain from hating him is\nsufficient for salvation. The power of loving a God whom religion\npaints as the most detestable of beings would, doubtless, be a proof\nof the most supernatural grace, that is, a grace the most contrary to\nnature; to love that which we do not know, is, assuredly, sufficiently\ndifficult; to love that which we fear, is still more difficult; but to\nlove that which is exhibited to us in the most repulsive colors, is\nmanifestly impossible.\n\nWe must, after all this, be thoroughly convinced that, except by means\nof an invisible grace never communicated to the profane, no Christian\nin his sober senses can love his God; even those devotees who pretend\nto that happiness are apt to deceive themselves; their conduct\nresembles that of hypocritical flatterers, who, in order to ingratiate\nthemselves with an odious tyrant, or to escape his resentment, make\nevery profession of attachment, whilst, at the bottom of their\nhearts, they execrate him; or, on the other hand, they must be\ncondemned as enthusiasts, who, by means of a heated imagination,\nbecome the dupes of their own illusions, and only view the favorable\nside of a God declared to be the fountain of all good, yet,\nnevertheless, constantly delineated to us with every feature of\nwickedness. Devotees, when sincere, are like women given up to the\ninfatuation of a blind passion by which they are enamoured with lovers\nrejected by the rest of the sex as unworthy of their affection. It was\nsaid by Madame de Sevigne that she loved God as a perfectly well-bred\ngentleman, with whom she had never been acquainted. But can the God of\nthe Christians be esteemed a well-bred gentleman? Unless her head was\nturned, one would think that she must have been cured of her passion\nby the slightest reference to her imaginary lover's portrait as drawn\nin the Bible, or as it is spread upon the canvas of our theological\nartists.\n\nWith regard to the love of our neighbor, where was the necessity of\nreligion to teach us our duty, which as men we cannot but feel, of\ncherishing sentiments of good will towards each other? It is only by\nshowing in our conduct an affectionate disposition to others that we\ncan produce in them correspondent feelings towards ourselves. The\nsimple circumstance of being men is quite sufficient to give us a\nclaim upon the heart of every man who is susceptible of the sweet\nsensibilities of our nature. Who is better acquainted than yourself,\nMadam, with this truth? Does not your compassionate soul experience at\nevery moment the delightful satisfaction of solacing the unhappy?\nSetting aside the superfluous precepts of religion, think you that you\ncould by any efforts steel your heart against the tears of the\nunfortunate? Is it not by rendering our fellow-creatures happy that we\nestablish an empire in their hearts? Enjoy, then, Madam, this\ndelightful sovereignty; continue to bless with your beneficence all\nthat surround you; the consciousness of being the dispenser of so much\ngood will always sustain your mind with the most gratifying\nself-applause; those who have received your kindness will reward you\nwith their blessings, and afford you the tribute of affection which\nmankind are ever eager to lay at the feet of their benefactors.\n\nChristianity, not satisfied with recommending the love of our\nneighbor, superadds the injunction of loving our enemies. This\nprecept, attributed to the Son of God himself, forms the ground on\nwhich our divines claim for their religion a superiority of moral\ndoctrine over all that the philosophers of antiquity were known to\nteach. Let us, therefore, examine how far this precept admits of being\nreduced to practice. True, an elevated mind may easily place itself\nabove a sense of injuries; a noble spirit retains no resentful\nrecollections; a great soul revenges itself by a generous clemency;\nbut it is an absurd contradiction to require that a man shall\nentertain feelings of tenderness and regard for those whom he knows\nto be bent on his destruction; this love of our enemies, which\nChristianity is so vain of having promulgated, turns out, then, to be\nan impracticable commandment, belied and denied by every Christian at\nevery moment of his life. How preposterous to talk of loving that\nwhich annoys us!--of cherishing an attachment for that which gives us\npain!--of receiving an outrage with joy!--of loving those who subject\nus to misery and suffering! No; in the midst of these trials our\nfirmness may perhaps be strengthened by the hope of a reward\nhereafter; but it is a mere fallacy to talk of our entertaining a\nsincere love for those whom we deem the authors of our afflictions;\nthe least that we can do is to avoid them, which will not be looked\nupon as a very strong indication of our love.\n\nNotwithstanding the solemn formality with which the Christian religion\nobtrudes upon us these vaunted precepts of love of our neighbor, love\nof our enemies, and forgiveness of injuries, it cannot escape the\nobservation of the weakest among us, that those very men who are the\nloudest in praising are also the first and most constant in violating\nthem. Our priests especially seem to consider themselves exempt from\nthe troublesome necessity of adopting for their own conduct a too\nliteral interpretation of this divine law. They have invented a most\nconvenient salvo, since they affect to exclude all those who do not\nprofess to think as they dictate, not only from the kindness of\nneighbors, but even from the rights of fellow-creatures. On this\nprinciple they defame, persecute, and destroy every one who displeases\nthem. When do you see a priest forgive? When revenge is out of his\nreach! But it is never their own injuries they punish; it is never\ntheir own enemies they seek to exterminate. Their disinterested\nindignation burns with resentment against the enemies of the Most\nHigh, who, without their assistance, would be incapable of adjusting\nhis own quarrels! By an unaccountable coincidence, however, it is sure\nto happen that the enemies of the church are the enemies of the Most\nHigh, who never fails to make common cause with the ministers of the\nfaith, and who would take it extremely ill if his ministers should\nrelax in the measure of punishment due to their common enemy. Thus our\npriests are cruel and revengeful from pure zeal; they would ardently\nwish to forgive their own enemies, but how could they justify\nthemselves to the God of Mercies if they extended the least indulgence\nto his enemies?\n\nA true Christian loves the Creator above all things, and consequently\nhe must love him in preference to the creature. We feel a lively\ninterest in every thing that concerns the object of our love; from all\nwhich, it follows that we must evince our zeal, and even, when\nnecessary, we must not hesitate to exterminate our neighbor, if he\nsays or does what is displeasing or injurious to God. In such a case,\nindifference would be criminal; a sincere love of God breaks out into\na holy ardor in his cause, and our merit rises in proportion to our\nviolence.\n\nThese notions, absurd as they are, have been sufficient in every age\nto produce in the world a multitude of crimes, extravagances, and\nfollies, the legitimate offspring of a religious zeal. Infatuated\nfanatics, exasperated by priests against each other, have been driven\ninto mutual hatred, persecution, and destruction; they have thought\nthemselves called upon to avenge the Almighty; they have carried their\ninsane delusions so far as to persuade themselves that the God of\nclemency and goodness could look on with pleasure while they murdered\ntheir brethren; in the astonishing blindness of their stupidity, they\nhave imagined that in defending the temporalities of the church, they\nwere defending God himself. In pursuance of these errors, contradicted\neven by the description which they themselves give us of the Divinity,\nthe priests of every age have found means to introduce confusion into\nthe peaceful habitations of men, and to destroy all who dared to\nresist their tyranny. Under the laughable idea of revenging the\nall-powerful Creator, these priests have discovered the secret of\nrevenging themselves, and that, too, without drawing down upon\nthemselves the hatred and execration so justly due to their vindictive\nfury and unfeeling selfishness. In the name of the God of nature, they\nstifled the voice of nature in the breasts of men; in the name of the\nGod of goodness, they incited men to the fury of wild beasts; in the\nname of the God of mercies, they prohibited all forgiveness!\n\nIt is thus, Madam, that the earth has never ceased to groan with the\nravages committed by maniacs under the influence of that zeal which\nsprings from the Christian doctrine of the love of God. The God of the\nChristians, like the Janus of Roman mythology, has two faces;\nsometimes he is represented with the benign features of mercy and\ngoodness; sometimes murder, revenge, and fury issue from his nostrils.\nAnd what is the consequence of this double aspect but that the\nChristians are much more easily terrified at his frightful lineaments\nthan they are recovered from their fears by his aspect of mercy!\nHaving been taught to view him as a capricious being, they are\nnaturally mistrustful of him, and imagine that the safest part they\ncan act for themselves is to set about the work of vengeance with\ngreat zeal; they conclude that a cruel master cannot find fault with\ncruel imitators, and that his servants cannot render themselves more\nacceptable than by extirpating all his enemies.\n\nThe preceding remarks show very clearly, Madam, the highly pernicious\nconsequences which result from the zeal engendered by the love of God.\nIf this love is a virtue, its benefits are confined to the priests,\nwho arrogate to themselves the exclusive privilege of declaring when\nGod is offended; who absorb all the offerings and monopolize all the\nhomage of the devout; who decide upon the opinions that please or\ndisplease him; who undertake to inform mankind of the duties this\nvirtue requires from them, and of the proper time and manner of\nperforming them; who are interested in rendering those duties cruel\nand intimidating in order to frighten mankind into a profitable\nsubjection; who convert it into the instrument of gratifying their own\nmalignant passions, by inspiring men with a spirit of headlong and\nraging intolerance, which, in its furious course of indiscriminate\ndestruction, holds nothing sacred, and which has inflicted incredible\nravages upon all Christian countries.\n\nIn conformity with such abominable principles, a Christian is bound to\ndetest and destroy all whom the church may point out as the enemies of\nGod. Having admitted the paramount duty of yielding their entire\naffections to a rigorous master, quick to resent, and offended even\nwith the involuntary thoughts and opinions of his creatures, they of\ncourse feel themselves bound, by entering with zeal into his quarrels,\nto obtain for him a vengeance worthy of a God--that is to say, a\nvengeance that knows no bounds. A conduct like this is the natural\noffspring of those revolting ideas which our priests give us of the\nDeity. A good Christian is therefore necessarily intolerant. It is\ntrue that Christianity in the pulpit preaches nothing but mildness,\nmeekness, toleration, peace, and concord; but Christianity in the\nworld is a stranger to all these virtues; nor does she ever exercise\nthem except when she is deficient in the necessary power to give\neffect to her destructive zeal. The real truth of the matter is, that\nChristians think themselves absolved from every tie of humanity except\nwith those who think as they do, who profess to believe the same\ncreed; they have a repugnance, more or less decided, against all those\nwho disagree with their priests in theological speculation. How common\nit is to see persons of the mildest character and most benevolent\ndisposition regard with aversion the adherents of a different sect\nfrom their own! The reigning religion--that is, the religion of the\nsovereign, or of the priests in whose favor the sovereign declares\nhimself--crushes all rival sects, or, at least, makes them fully\nsensible of its superiority and its hatred, in a manner extremely\ninsulting, and calculated to raise their indignation. By these means\nit frequently happens that the deference of the prince to the wishes\nof the priests has the effect of alienating the hearts of his most\nfaithful subjects, and brings him that execration which ought in\njustice to be heaped exclusively upon his sanctimonious instigators.\n\nIn short, Madam, the private rights of conscience are nowhere\nsincerely respected; the leaders of the various religious sects begin,\nin the very cradle, to teach all Christians to hate and despise each\nother about some theological point which nobody can understand. The\nclergy, when vested with power, never preach toleration; on the\ncontrary, they consider every man as an enemy who is a friend to\nreligious freedom, accusing him of lukewarmness, infidelity, and\nsecret hostility; in short, he is denominated a false brother. The\nSorbonne declared, in the sixteenth century, that it was heretical to\nsay that heretics ought not to be burned. The ferocious St. Austin\npreached toleration at one period, but it was before he was duly\ninitiated in the mysteries of the sacerdotal policy, which is ever\nrepugnant to toleration. Persecution is necessary to our priests, to\ndeter mankind from opposing themselves to their avarice, their\nambition, their vanity, and their obstinacy. The sole principle which\nholds the church together is that of a sleepless watchfulness on the\npart of all its members to extend its power, to increase the multitude\nof its slaves, to fix odium on all who hesitate to bend their necks to\nits yoke, or who refuse their assent to its arbitrary decisions.\n\nOur divines have, therefore, you see, very good reasons for raising\nhumility into the rank of virtue. An amiable modesty, a diffident\nmildness of demeanor, are unquestionably calculated to promote the\npleasures and the advantages of society; it is equally certain that\ninsolence and arrogance are disgusting, that they wound our self-love\nand excite our aversion by their repulsive conduct; but that amiable\nmodesty which charms all who come within its influence is a far\ndifferent quality from that which is designated humility in the\nvocabulary of Christians. A truly humble Christian despises his own\nunworthiness, avoids the esteem of others, mistrusts his own\nunderstanding, submits with docility to the unerring guidance of his\nspiritual masters, and piously resigns to his priest the clearest and\nmost irrefutable conclusions of reason.\n\nBut to what advantage can this pretended virtue lead its followers?\nHow can a man of sense and integrity despise himself? Is not public\nopinion the guardian of private virtue? If you deprive men of the love\nof glory, and the desire of deserving the approbation of their\nfellow-citizens, are you not divesting them of the noblest and most\npowerful incitements by which they can be impelled to benefit their\ncountry? What recompense will remain to the benefactors of mankind,\nif, first of all, we are unjust enough to refuse them the praise they\nmerit, and afterwards debar them from the satisfaction of\nself-applause, and the happiness they would feel in the consciousness\nof having done good to an ungrateful world? What infatuation, what\namazing infatuation, to require a man of upright character, of\ntalents, intelligence, and learning, to think himself on a level with\na selfish priest, or a stupid fanatic, who deal out their absurd\nfables and incoherent dreams!\n\nOur priests are never weary of telling their flocks that pride leads\non to infidelity, and that a humble and submissive spirit is alone\nfitted to receive the truths of the gospel. In good earnest, should\nwe not be utterly bereft of every claim to the name of rational\nbeings, if we consent to surrender our judgment and our knowledge at\nthe command of a hierarchy, who have nothing to give us in exchange\nbut the most palpable absurdities? With what face can a reverend\nDoctor of Nonsense dare to exact from my understanding a humble\nacquiescence in a bundle of mysterious opinions, for which he is\nunable to offer me a single solid reason? Is it, then, presumptuous to\nthink one's self superior to a class of pretenders, whose systems are\na mass of falsities, absurdities, and inconsistencies, of which they\ncontrive to make mankind at once the dupes and the victims? Can pride\nor vanity be, with justice, imputed to you, Madam, if you see reason\nto prefer the dictates of your own understanding to the authoritative\ndecrees of Mrs. D----, whose senseless malignity is obvious to all her\nacquaintance?\n\nIf Christian humility is a virtue at all, it can be one only in the\ncloister; society can derive no sort of benefit from it; it enervates\nthe mind; it benefits nobody but priests, who, under the pretext of\nrendering men humble, seek, in reality, only to degrade them, to\nstifle in their souls every spark of science and of courage, that they\nmay the more easily impose the yoke of faith, that is to say, their\nown yoke. Conclude, then, with me, that the Christian virtues are\nchimerical, always useless, and sometimes pernicious to men, and\nattended with advantage to none but priests. Conclude that this\nreligion, with all the boasted beauty of its morality, recommends to\nus a set of virtues, and enjoins a line of conduct, at variance with\ngood sense. Conclude that, in order to be moral and virtuous, it is\nfar from necessary to adopt the unintelligible creed of the priests,\nor to pride ourselves upon the empty virtues they preach, and still\nless to annihilate all sense of dignity in ourselves, by a degrading\nsubjection to the duties they require. Conclude, in short, that the\nfriend of virtue is not, of necessity, the friend of priestcraft, and\nthat a man may be adorned with every human perfection, without\npossessing one of the Christian virtues.\n\nAll who examine this matter with a candid and intelligent eye, cannot\nfail to see that true morality--that is to say, a morality really\nserviceable to mankind--is absolutely incompatible with the Christian\nreligion, or any other professed revelation. Whoever imagines himself\nthe favored object of the Creator's love, must look down with disdain\nupon his less fortunate fellow-creatures, especially if he regards\nthat Creator as partial, choleric, revengeful, and fickle, easily\nincensed against us, even by our involuntary thoughts, or our most\ninnocent words and actions; such a man naturally conducts himself with\ncontempt and pride, with harshness and barbarity towards all others\nwhom he may deem obnoxious to the resentment of his Heavenly King.\nThose men, whose folly leads them to view the Deity in the light of a\ncapricious, irritable, and unappeasable despot, can be nothing but\ngloomy and trembling slaves, ever eager to anticipate the vengeance\nof God upon all whose conduct or opinions they may conceive likely to\nprovoke the celestial wrath. As soon as the priests have succeeded in\nreducing men to a state of stupidity gross enough to make them believe\nthat their ghostly fathers are the faithful organs of the divine will,\nthey naturally commit every species of crime, which their spiritual\nteachers may please to tell them is calculated to pacify the anger of\ntheir offended God. Men, silly enough to accept a system of morals\nfrom guides thus hollow in reasoning, and thus discordant in opinion,\nmust necessarily be unstable in their principles, and subject to every\nvariation that the interest of their guides may suggest. In short, it\nis impossible to construct a solid morality, if we take for our\nfoundation the attributes of a deity so unjust, so capricious, and so\nchangeable as the God of the Bible, whom we are commanded to imitate\nand adore.\n\nPersevere, then, my dear Madam, in the practice of those virtues which\nyour own unsophisticated heart approves; they will insure you a rich\nharvest of happiness in the present existence; they will insure you a\nrich return of gratitude, respect, and love from all who enjoy their\nbenign influence; they will insure you the solid satisfaction of a\nwell-founded self-esteem, and thus provide you with that unfailing\nsource of inward gratification which arises from the consciousness of\nhaving contributed to the welfare of the human race. I am, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER IX.\n\n  Of the Advantages contributed to Government by Religion.\n\n\nHaving already shown you, Madam, the feebleness of those succors which\nreligion furnishes to morals, I shall now proceed to examine whether\nit procure advantages in themselves really politic, and whether it be\ntrue, as has so often been urged by the priests, that it is absolutely\nnecessary to the existence of every government. Were we disposed to\nshut our eyes, and deliver ourselves up to the language of our\npriests, we should believe that their opinions are necessary to the\npublic tranquillity, and the repose and security of the State; that\nprinces could not, without their aid, govern the people, and exert\nthemselves for the prosperity of their empire. Nor is this all; our\nspiritual pilots approach the throne, and gaining the ear of the\nsovereign, make him also believe that he has the greatest interest in\nconforming to their caprices, in order to subject men to the divine\nyoke of royalty. These priests mingle in all important political\nquarrels, and they too often persuade the rulers of the earth that the\nenemies of the church are the enemies of all power, and that in\nsapping the foundations of the altar, the foundations of the throne\nare likewise necessarily overthrown.\n\nWe have, then, only to open our eyes and consult history, to be\nconvinced of the falsity of these pretensions, and to appreciate the\nimportant services which the Christian priests have rendered to their\nsovereigns. Ever since the establishment of Christianity, we have\nseen, in all the countries in which this religion has gained ground,\nthat two rival powers are perpetually at war one with the other. We\nfind _a_ government within _the_ government; that is to say, we find\nthe Church, a body of priests, continually opposed to the sovereign\npower, and in virtue of their pretended _divine_ mission and _sacred_\noffice, pretending to give laws to all the sovereigns of the earth. We\nfind the clergy, puffed up and besotted with the titles they have\ngiven themselves, laboring to exact the obedience due to the\nsovereign, pretending to chimerical and dangerous prerogatives, which\nnone are suffered to question, without risking the displeasure of the\nAlmighty. And so well have the priesthood managed this matter, that in\nmany countries we actually see the people more inclined to lean to the\nauthority of the Vicars of Jesus Christ than to that of the civil\ngovernment. The priesthood claim the right of commanding monarchs\nthemselves, and sustained by their emissaries and the credulity of the\npeople, their ridiculous pretensions have engaged princes in the most\nserious affairs, sown trouble and discord in kingdoms, and so shook\nthrones as to compel their occupants to make submission to an\nintolerant hierarchy.\n\nSuch are the important services which religion has a thousand times\nrendered to kings. The people, blinded by superstition, could\nhesitate but little between God and the princes of the earth. The\npriests, being the visible organs of an invisible monarch, have\nacquired an immense credit with prejudiced minds. The ignorance of the\npeople places them, as well as their sovereigns, at the mercy of the\npriests. Nations have continually been dragged into their futile\nthough bloody quarrels; princes, for a long series of years, have\neither had to dispute their authority with the clergy, or become their\ntools or dupes.\n\nThe continual attention which the princes of Europe have been forced\nto pay to the clergy has prevented them from occupying their thoughts\nabout the welfare of their subjects, who, in many instances the dupes\nof the priesthood, have opposed even the good their rulers desired to\nprocure them. In like manner, the heads of the people, their kings and\ngovernors, too weak to resist the torrent of opinions propagated by\nthe clergy, have been forced to yield, to bow, nay, even to caress the\npriesthood, and to consent to grant it all its demands. Whenever they\nhave wished to resist the encroachments of the clergy, they have\nencountered concealed snares or open opposition, as the _holy_ power\nwas either too weak to act in the face of day, or strong enough to\ncontend in the sunshine. When princes have wished to be listened to by\nthe clergy, these last have invariably contrived to make them\ncowardly, and to sacrifice the happiness and respect of their people.\nOften have the hands of parricides and rebels been armed, by a proud\nand vindictive priesthood, against sovereigns the most worthy of\nreigning. The priests, under pretext of avenging God, inflict their\nanger upon monarchs themselves, whenever the latter are found\nindisposed to bend under their yoke. In a word, in _all_ countries we\nperceive that the ministers of religion have exercised in all ages the\nmost unbridled license. We every where see empires torn by their\ndissensions; thrones overturned by their machinations; princes\nimmolated to their power and revenge; subjects animated to revolt\nagainst the prince that ought to give them more happiness than they\nactually enjoyed; and when we take the retrospect of these, we find\nthat the ambition, the cupidity, and vanity of the clergy have been\nthe true causes and motives of all these outrages on the peace of the\nuniverse. And it is thus that their religion has so often produced\nanarchy, and overturned the very empires they pretended to support by\nits influence.\n\nSovereigns have never enjoyed peace but when, shamefully devoted to\npriests, they submitted to their caprices, became enslaved to their\nopinions, and allowed them to govern in place of themselves. Then was\nthe sovereign power subordinate to the sacerdotal, and the prince was\nonly the first servant of the church; she degraded him to such a\ndegree as to make him her hangman; she obliged him to execute her\nsanguinary decrees; she forced him to dip his hands in the blood of\nhis own subjects whom the clergy had proscribed; she made him the\nvisible instrument of her vengeance, her fury, and her concealed\npassions. Instead of occupying himself with the happiness of his\npeople, the sovereign has had the complaisance to torment, to\npersecute, and to immolate honest citizens, thus exciting the just\nhatred of a portion of his people, to whom he should have been a\nfather, to gratify the ambition and the selfish malevolence of some\npriests, always aliens in the state which nourishes them, and who only\nstyle themselves members of the realm in order to domineer, to\ndistract, to plunder, and to devour with impunity.\n\nHow little soever you are disposed to reflect, you will be convinced,\nMadam, that I do not exaggerate these things. Recent examples prove to\nyou that even in this age, so ambitious of being considered\nenlightened, nations are not secure from the shocks that the priests\nhave ever caused nations to suffer. You have a hundred times sighed at\nthe sight of the sad follies which puerile questions have produced\namong us. You have shuddered at the frightful consequences which have\nresulted from the unreasonable squabbles of the clergy. You have\ntrembled with all good citizens at the sight of the tragical effects\nwhich have been brought about by the furious wickedness of a\nfanaticism for which nothing is sacred. In fine, you have seen the\nsovereign authority compelled to struggle incessantly against\nrebellious subjects, who pretend that their conscience or the\ninterests of religion have obliged them to resist opinions the most\nagreeable to common sense, and the most equitable.\n\nOur fathers, more religious and less enlightened than ourselves, were\nwitnesses of scenes yet more terrible. They saw civil wars, leagues\nopenly formed against their sovereign, and the capital submerged in\nthe blood of murdered citizens; two monarchs successively immolated to\nthe fury of the clergy, who kindled in all parts the fire of sedition.\nThey afterwards saw kings at war with their own subjects; a famous\nsovereign, Louis XIV., tarnishing all his glory by persecuting,\ncontrary to the faith of treaties, subjects who would have lived\ntranquil, if they had only been allowed to enjoy in peace the liberty\nof conscience; and they saw, in fine, this same prince, the dupe of a\nfalse policy, dictated by intolerance, banish, along with the exiled\nProtestants, the industry of his states, and forcing the arts and\nmanufactures of our nation to take refuge in the dominions of our most\nimplacable enemies.\n\nWe see religion throughout Europe, without cessation, exerting a\nbaleful influence upon temporal affairs; we see it direct the\ninterests of princes; we see it divide and make Christian nations\nenemies of each other, because their spiritual guides do not all\nentertain the same opinions. Germany is divided into two religious\nparties whose interests are perpetually at variance. We every where\nperceive that Protestants are born the enemies of the Catholics, and\nare always in antagonism to them; while, on the other hand, the\nCatholics are leagued with their priests against all those whose mode\nof thinking is less abject and less servile than their own.\n\nBehold, Madam, the signal advantages that nations derive from\nreligion! But we are certain to be told that these terrible effects\nare due to the passions of men, and not to the Christian religion,\nwhich incessantly inculcates charity, concord, indulgence, and peace.\nIf, however, we reflect even a moment on the principles of this\nreligion, we should immediately perceive that they are incompatible\nwith the fine maxims that have never been practised by the Christian\npriests, except when they lacked the power to persecute their enemies\nand inflict upon them the weight of their rage. The adorers of a\njealous God, vindictive and sanguinary, as is obviously the character\nof the God of the Jews and Christians, could not evince in their\nconduct moderation, tranquillity, and humanity. The adorers of a God\nwho takes offence at the opinions of his weak creatures, who\nreprobates and glories in the extermination of all who do not worship\nhim in a particular way, for the which, by the by, he gives them\nneither the means nor the inclination, must necessarily be intolerant\npersecutors. The adorers of a God who has not thought fit to\nilluminate with an equal portion of light the minds of all his\ncreatures, who reveals his favor and bestows his kindness on a few\nonly of those creatures, who leaves the remainder in blindness and\nuncertainty to follow their passions, or adopt opinions against which\nthe favored wage war, must of necessity be eternally at odds with the\nrest of the world, canting about their oracles and mysteries,\nsupernatural precepts, invented purely to torment the human mind, to\nenthral it, and leave man answerable for what he could not obey, and\npunishable for what he was restrained from performing. We need not\nthen be astonished if, since the origin of Christianity, our priests\nhave never been a single moment without disputes. It appears that God\nonly sent his Son upon earth that his marvellous doctrines might prove\nan apple of discord both for his priests and his adorers. The\nministers of a church founded by Christ himself, who promised to send\nthem his Holy Spirit to lead them into all the truth, have never been\nin unison with their dogmas. We have seen this infallible church for\nwhole ages enveloped in error. You know, Madam, that in the fourth\ncentury, by the acknowledgment of the priests themselves, the great\nbody of the church followed the opinions of the Arians, who disavowed\neven the divinity of Jesus Christ. The spirit of God must then have\nabandoned his church; else why did its ministers fall into this error,\nand dispute afterwards about so fundamental a dogma of the Christian\nreligion?\n\nNotwithstanding these continual quarrels, the church arrogates to\nitself the right of fixing the faith of the _true believers_, and in\nthis it pretends to infallibility; and if the Protestant parsons have\nrenounced the lofty and ridiculous pretensions of their Catholic\nbrethren, they are not less certain in the infallibility of their\ndecisions; for they talk with the authority of oracles, and send to\nhell and damnation all who do not yield submission to their dogmas.\nThus on both sides of the cross they wish their assertions to be\nreceived by their adherents as if they came direct from heaven. The\npriests have always been at discord among themselves, and have\nperpetually cursed, anathematized, and doomed each other to hell. The\nvanity of each holy clique has caused it to adhere obstinately to its\nown peculiar opinions, and to treat its adversaries as heretics.\nViolence alone has generally decided the discussions, terminated the\ndisputes, and fixed the standard of belief. Those pugnacious, brawling\npriests who were artful enough to enlist sovereigns on their side were\n_orthodox_, or, in other words, boasted that they were the exclusive\npossessors of the true doctrine. They made use of their credit to\ncrush their adversaries, whom they always treated with the greatest\nbarbarity.\n\nBut, after all, whatever the clergy may say, we shall find, even with\na small share of attention, that it has ever been kings and emperors\nwho, in the last resort, fixed the faith of the disputatious\nChristians. It has been by downright blows of the sword that those\ntheological notions most pleasing to the Deity have been sustained in\nall countries. The true belief has invariably been that which had\nprinces for its adherents. The faithful were those who had strength\nsufficient to exterminate their enemies, whom they never failed to\ntreat as the enemies of God. In a word, princes have been truly\ninfallible; we should regard them as the true founders of religious\nfaith; they are the judges who have decided, in all ages, what\ndoctrines should be admitted or rejected; and they are, in fine, the\nauthorities which have always fixed the religion of their subjects.\n\nEver since Christianity has been adopted by some nations, have we not\nseen that religion has almost entirely occupied the attention of\nsovereigns? Either the princes, blinded by superstition, were devoted\nto the priests, or the rulers of nations believed that prudence\nexacted a concession on their part to the clergy, the true masters of\ntheir people, who considered nothing more sacred or more great than\nthe ministers of their God. In neither case was the body politic ever\nconsulted; it was cowardly sacrificed to the interests of the court,\nor the vanity and luxury of the priests. It is by a continuation of\nsuperstition on the part of the princes that we behold the church so\nrichly endowed in times of ignorance; when men believed they would\nenrich Deity by putting all their wealth into the hands of the priests\nof a good God the declared enemy of riches. Savage warriors, destitute\nof the manners of men, flattered themselves that they could expiate\nall their sins by founding monasteries and giving immense wealth to a\nset of men who had made vows of poverty. It was believed that they\nwould merit from the All-powerful a great advantage by recompensing\nlaziness, which, in the priests, was regarded as a great good, and\nthat the blessings procured by their prayers would be in proportion to\nthe continual and pressing demands their poverty made on the wealthy.\nIt is thus that by the superstition of princes, by that of the\npowerful classes, and of the people themselves, the clergy have become\nopulent and powerful; that monachism was honored, and citizens the\nmost useless, the least submissive, and the most dangerous, were the\nbest recompensed, the most considered, and the best paid. They were\nloaded with benefits, privileges, and immunities; they enjoyed\nindependence, and they had that great power which flowed from so great\nlicense. Thus were priests placed above sovereigns themselves by the\nimprudent devotion of the latter, and the former were enabled to give\nthe law and trouble the state with impunity.\n\nThe clergy, arrived at this elevation of power and grandeur, became\nredoubtable even to monarchs. They were obliged to bend under the yoke\nor be at way with clerical power. When the sovereigns yielded, they\nbecame mere slaves to the priests, the instruments of their passions,\nand the vile adorers of their power. When they refused to yield, the\npriests involved them in the most cruel embarrassments; they launched\nagainst them the anathemas of the church; the people were incited\nagainst them in the name of heaven; the nations divided themselves\nbetween the celestial and the terrestrial monarch, and the latter was\nreduced to great extremities to sustain a throne which the priests\ncould shake or even destroy at pleasure. There was a time in Europe\nwhen both the welfare of the prince and the repose of his kingdom\ndepended solely upon the caprice of a priest. In these times of\nignorance, of devotion, and of commotions so favorable to the clergy,\na weak and poor monarch, surrounded by a miserable nation, was at the\nmercy of a Roman pontiff, who could at any instant destroy his\nfelicity, excite his subjects against him, and precipitate him into\nthe abyss of misery.\n\nIn general, Madam, we find that in countries where religion holds\ndominion, the sovereign is necessarily dependent upon the priests; he\nhas no power except by the consent of the clergy; that power\ndisappears as soon as he displeases the self-styled vicegerents of\nGod, who are very soon able to array his subjects against him. The\npeople, in accordance with the principles of their religion, cannot\nhesitate between God and their sovereign. God never says any thing\nexcept what his priests say for him; and the ignorance and folly in\nwhich they are kept by their spiritual guides prevent them from\ninquiring whether God's ambassadors faithfully render his decrees.\n\nConclude, then, with me, that the interests of a sovereign who would\nrule equitably are unable to accord with those of the ministers of the\nChristian religion, who in all ages have been the most turbulent\ncitizens, the most rebellious, the most difficult to render\nsubservient to law and order, and whose resistance has extended to\nthe very assassination of obnoxious rulers. We shall be told that\nChristianity is a firm support of government; that it regards\nmagistrates as the images of the Deity; and that it teaches that _all\npower comes from on high_. These maxims of the clergy are, however,\nbest calculated to lull kings on the couch of slumber; they are\ncalculated to flatter those on whom the clergy can rely, and who will\nserve their ambition; and their flatterers can soon change their tone\nwhen the princes have the temerity to question the pernicious tendency\nof priestly influence, or when they do not blindly lend themselves to\nall their views. Then the sovereign is an impious wretch, a heretic;\nhis destruction is laudable; heaven rejoices in his overthrow. And all\nthis is the religion of the Bible!\n\nYou know, Madam, that these odious maxims have been a thousand times\nenforced by the priests, who say the prince has _encroached upon the\nauthority of the church_; and the people respond that _it is better to\nobey God than man_. The priests are only devoted to the princes when\nthe princes are blindly led by the priests. These last preach\narrogantly that the former ought to be exterminated, when they refuse\nto obey the church, that is to say, the priests; yet, how terrible\nsoever may be these maxims, how dangerous soever their practice to the\nsecurity of the sovereign and the tranquillity of the state, they are\nthe immediate consequences drawn from Judaism and Christianity. We\nfind in the Old Testament that the regicide is applauded; that\ntreason and rebellion are approved. As soon as it is supposed that God\nis offended with the thoughts of men,--as soon as it is supposed that\nheretics are displeasing to him,--it is very natural to conclude that\nan impious and heretical sovereign, that is to say, one who does not\nobey a clerical body that set themselves up as the directors of his\nbelief, who opposes the sacred views of an infallible church, and who\nmight occasion the loss and apostasy of a large part of the\nnation,--it is natural that the priests should conclude it to be\nlegitimate for subjects to attack such a prince, alleging their\nreligion to be the most important thing in the world, and dearer than\nlife itself. Actuated by such principles, it is impossible that a\nChristian zealot should not think he rendered a service to heaven by\npunishing its enemy, and a service to his country by disembarrassing\nit of a chief who might interpose an obstacle to his eternal\nhappiness.\n\nThe obedience of the clergy is never otherwise than conditional. The\npriests submit to a prince, they flatter his power, and they sustain\nhis authority, provided he submits to their orders, makes no obstacles\nto their projects, touches none of their interests, and changes none\nof the dogmas upon which the ministers of the church have founded\ntheir own grandeur. In fine, provided a government recognizes, as\ndivine, clerical privileges that are plainly opposed to popular\nrights, and tend to subvert them, the hierarchy will submit to it.\n\nThese considerations prove how dangerous are the priesthood, since the\nend they purpose by all their projects is dominion over the mind of\nmankind, and by subjugating it to enslave their persons, and render\nthem the creatures of despotism and tyranny. And we shall find, upon\nexamination, that, with one or two exceptions, the pious have been the\nenemies of the progress of science and the development of the human\nunderstanding; for by brutalizing mankind they have invariably striven\nto bind them to their yoke. Their avarice, their thirst of power and\nwealth, have led them to plunge their fellow-citizens in ignorance, in\nmisery, and unhappiness. They discourage the cultivation of the earth\nby their system of tithes, their extortions, and their secret\nprojects; they annihilate activity, talents, and industry; their pride\nis to reign on the ruin of the rest of their species. The finest\ncountries in Europe have, when blindly submissive to the priest, been\nthe worst cultivated, the thinnest peopled, and the most wretched. The\n_Inquisition_ in Spain, Italy, and Portugal has only tended to\nimpoverish those countries, to debase the mind, and render their\nsubjects the veriest slaves of superstition. And in countries where we\nsee heaven showering down abundance, the people are poor and famished,\nwhile the priests and monks are opulent and bloated. Their kings are\nwithout power and without glory; their subjects languish in indigence\nand wretchedness.\n\nThe priests boast of the utility of their office. Independently of\ntheir prayers, from which the world has for so many ages derived\nneither instruction nor peace, prosperity nor happiness, their\npretensions to teach the rising generations are often frivolous, and\nsometimes arrogant, since we have found others equally well calculated\nto the discharge of those functions, who have been good citizens, that\nhave not drawn from the pockets of their neighbors the tenth of their\nearnings. Thus, in what light soever we view them, the pretensions of\nthe priests are reduced to a nonentity, compared to the disservice\nthey render the community by their exactions and dissolute lives.\n\nIn what consists, in effect, the education that our spiritual guides\nhave, unhappily for society, assumed the vocation of imparting to\nyouth? Does it tend to make reasonable, courageous, and virtuous\ncitizens? No; it is incontestable that it creates ignoble men, whose\nentire lives are tormented with imaginary terrors; it creates\nsuperstitious slaves, who only possess monastic virtues, and who, if\nthey follow faithfully the instructions of their masters, must be\nperfectly useless to society; it forms intolerant devotees, ready to\ndetest all those who do not think like themselves; and it makes\nfanatics, who are ready to rebel against any government as soon as\nthey are persuaded it is rebellious to the church. What do the\npriests teach their pupils? They cause them to lose much precious\ntime in reciting prayers, in mechanically repeating theological\ndogmas, of which, even in mature life, they comprehend nothing. They\nteach them the dead languages, which, at the best, only serve for\nentertainment, being by no means necessary in the present form of\nsociety. They terminate these fine studies by a philosophy which, in\nclerical hands, has become a mere play of words, a jargon void of\nsense, and which is exactly calculated to fit them for the\nunintelligible science called _theology_. But is this theology itself\nuseful to nations? Are the interminable disputes which arise between\nprofound metaphysicians of such a character as to be interesting to\nthe people who do not comprehend them? Are the people of Paris and the\nprovinces much advanced in heavenly knowledge when the priests dispute\namong themselves about what should really be thought of grace?\n\nIn regard to the instruction imparted by the clergy, it is indeed\nnecessary to have faith in order to discover its utility. Their\nboasted instruction consists in teaching ineffable mysteries,\nmarvellous dogmas, narrations and fables perfectly ridiculous, panic\nterrors, fanatical and lugubrious predictions, frightful menaces, and\nabove all, systems so profound that they who announce are not able to\ncomprehend them. In truth, Madam, in all this I can see nothing\nuseful. Should nations feel any extraordinary obligations to teachers\nwho concoct doctrines that must always remain impenetrable for the\nwhole human race? It must be confessed that our priests, who so\npainfully occupy themselves in arranging a pure creed for us, must\nsignally lose all their labor. At any rate, the people are not much in\nthe situation to profit by such sublime toils. Very frequently the\npulpit becomes the theatre of discord; the sacred disclaimers launch\ninjuries at each other, infusing their own passions into the bosoms of\ntheir _Christian_ auditors, kindling their zeal against the enemies of\nthe church, and becoming themselves the trumpets of party spirit,\nfury, and sedition. If these preachers teach morality, it is a kind of\nsupernatural morality, little adapted to the nature of man. If they\ninculcate virtue, it is that theological virtue whose inutility we\nhave sufficiently shown. If by chance some one among them allows\nhimself to preach that morality and virtue which is practical, human,\nand social, you know, Madam, that he is proscribed by his\nconfederates, and becomes an object of their acrimonious criticisms\nand their deadly hatred. He is also disdained by devotees who are\nattached to evangelical virtues that they cannot comprehend, and who\nconsider nothing as more important than mysterious forms and\nceremonies, in which zealots make morality to consist.\n\nSee, then, in what limits are entertained the important services that\nthe ministers of the Lord have for so many centuries rendered to\nnations! They are not worth, in all conscience, the excessive price\nwhich is paid for them. On the contrary, if priests were treated\naccording to their real merit, if their functions were appreciated at\ntheir just value, it would, perhaps, be found that they did not merit\na larger salary than those empirics who, at the corners of the\nstreets, vend remedies more dangerous than the evils they promise to\ncure.\n\nIt is by subjecting the immense revenues, lands, abbeys, and estates,\nwhich clerical bodies have levied upon the credulity of men, to just\nand equal taxation, as with other property; it is by rendering the\nchurch and state entirely distinct; it is by stripping the hierarchy\nof immunities not possessed by other citizens, and of privileges both\nchimerical and injurious; it is by rigorously exacting the same civil\nobedience alike from priests and people,--that government can be\nrightly administered, that justice can be impartially rendered, and\nthat the nation, as a whole, can be trained to courage, activity,\nindustry, intelligence, tranquillity, and patriotism. So long as there\nare two powers in a state, they will necessarily be at variance, and\nthe one which arrogates the favor of the Almighty will have immense\nadvantages over that which claims no authority above the earth. If\nboth pretend to emanate from the same source, the people would not\nknow which to believe; they would range themselves on each side; the\ncombat would be furious, and the power of the government would be\nunable to maintain itself against the many heads of the ecclesiastical\nhydra. The magicians of Pharaoh yielded to the Jewish priests, and in\nconflicts between the church and state, the immunities of the priests,\n\n    \"Like Aaron's serpent, swallowed all the rest.\"\n\nIf such is the case, you will inquire, Madam, how can an enlightened\ncivil power ever make obedient citizens of rebellious priests, who\nhave so long possessed the confidence of the people, and who can with\nimpunity render themselves formidable to any government? I reply, that\nin spite of the vigilant cares and the redoubled efforts of the\npriesthood, the people have begun to be more enlightened; they are\nbecoming weary of the heavy yoke, which they would not have borne so\nlong had they not believed it was imposed upon them by the Most High,\nand that it was necessary to their happiness. It is impossible for\nerror to be eternal; it must give way to the power of truth. The\npriests, who think, know this well, and the whole ecclesiastical body\ncontinually declaim against all those who wish to enlighten the human\nrace and unveil the conspiracies of their spiritual guides. They fear\nthe piercing eyes of philosophy; they fear the reign of reason, which\nwill never be that of tyranny or anarchy. Governments, then, ought not\nto share the fears of the clergy, nor render themselves the executors\nof their vengeance; they injure themselves when they sustain the cause\nof their turbulent rivals, who have ever been the enemies of civil\npolity and perturbers of the public repose. The magistrates of a state\nleague themselves with their enemies when they form an alliance with\nthe priesthood, or prevent the people from recognizing their errors.\n\nGovernments are more interested than individuals in the destruction of\nerrors that often lead to confusion, anarchy, and rebellion. If men\nhad not become gradually enlightened, nations would now, as formerly,\nbe under the yoke of the Roman pontiff, who could occasion revolution\nin their midst, overturn the laws, and subvert the government. But for\nthe insensible progress of reason, states would now be filled with a\ntumultuous crowd of devotees, ready to revolt at the signal of an\nunquiet priest or a seditious monk.\n\nYou perceive, then, Madam, that men who think, and who teach others to\nthink, are more useful to governments than those who wish to stifle\nreason and to proscribe forever the liberty of thought. You see that\nthe true friends of a stable government are those who seek most\nsedulously to enlighten, educate, and elevate the people. You feel\nthat by banishing knowledge and persecuting philosophy, government\nsacrifices its dearest interests to a seditious clergy, whose ambition\nand avarice push them to usurp boundless authority, and whose pride\nalways makes them indignant at being in subjection to a power which\nthey contend should be subordinate to themselves.\n\nThere is no priest who does not consider himself superior to the\nhighest ruler of any country. We have often seen the priesthood avow\npretensions of this character. The clergy are always enraged when an\nattempt is made to subject them to the secular power. Such an attempt\nthey regard as profane, and they denounce it as tyranny whenever it is\nsought to be enforced. They pretend that in all times the priesthood\nhas been sacred, that its rights come from God himself, and that no\ngovernment can, without sacrilege, or without outraging the Divinity,\ntouch the property, the privileges, or the immunities which have been\nsnatched from ignorance and credulity. Whenever the civil authority\nwould touch the objects considered inviolable and sacred in the hands\nof the priests, their clamors cannot be appeased; they make efforts to\nexcite the people against the government; they denounce all authority\nas tyrannical when it has the temerity to think of subjecting them to\nthe laws, of reforming their abuses, and neutralizing their power to\ninjure. But they consider authority legitimate when it crushes _their_\nenemies, though it appears insupportable as soon as it is reasonable\nand favorable to the people.\n\nThe priests are essentially the most wicked of men, and the worst\ncitizens of a state. A miracle would be necessary to render them\notherwise. In all countries they are the _spoiled children_ of\nnations. They are proud and haughty, since they pretend it is from God\nhimself they received their mission and their power. They are\ningrates, since they assume to owe only to God benefits which they\nvisibly hold from the generosity of governments and the people. They\nare audacious, because for many ages they have enjoyed supremacy with\nimpunity. They are unquiet and turbulent, because they are never\nwithout the desire of playing a great part. They are quarrelsome and\nfactious, because they are never able to find out a method of enabling\nmen to understand the pretended truths they teach. They are\nsuspicious, defiant, and cruel, because they sensibly feel that they\nmay well dread the discovery of their impostures. They are the\nspontaneous enemies of truth, because they justly apprehend it will\nannihilate their pretensions. They are implacable in their vengeance,\nbecause it would be dangerous to pardon those who wish to crush their\ndoctrines, whose weakness they know. They are hypocrites, because most\nof them possess too much sense to believe the reveries they retail to\nothers. They are obstinate in their ideas, because they are inflated\nwith vanity, and because they could not consistently deviate from a\nmethod of thinking of which they pretend God is the author. We often\nsee them unbridled and licentious in their manners, because it is\nimpossible that idleness, effeminacy, and luxury should not corrupt\nthe heart. We sometimes see them austere and rigid in their conduct in\norder to impose on the people and accomplish their ambitious views. If\nthey are hypocrites and rogues, they are extremely dangerous; and if\nthey are fanatical in good faith, or imbecile, they are not less to be\nfeared. In fine, we almost always see them rebellious and seditious,\nbecause an authority derived from God is not disposed to bend to\nauthority derived from men.\n\nYou have here, Madam, a faithful portrait of the members of a powerful\nbody, in whose favor governments, for a long time, have believed it\ntheir duty to sacrifice the other interests of the state. You here see\nthe citizens whom prejudice most richly recompenses, whom princes\nhonor in the eyes of the people, to whom they give their confidence,\nwhom they regard as the support of their power, and whom they consider\nas necessary to the happiness and security of their kingdoms. You can\njudge yourself whether the likeness delineated is correct. You are in\na position to discover their intrigues, their underplots, their\nconduct, and their discourse, and you will always find that their\nconstant object is to flatter princes for the purpose of governing\nthem and keeping nations in slavery.\n\nIt is to please citizens so dangerous that sovereigns mingle in\ntheological questions, take the part of those who succeed in seducing\nthem, persecute all those who do not submit, proscribe with fury the\nfriends of reason, and by repressing knowledge injure their own power.\nBecause the priests, who urge princes to sacrilege when they combat\nfor them, are indignant against the same princes when they refuse to\ndestroy the enemies of their own particular clerical body. They\nlikewise denounce sovereigns as impious if the latter treat\ntheological disputes with the indifference they merit.\n\nWhen hereafter, reclaimed from their prejudices, princes wish to\ngovern for the good of all, let them cease to hear the interested and\noften sanguinary councils of these pretended divine men, who,\nregarding themselves as the centre of all things, wish to have\nsacrificed for this object the happiness, the repose, the riches, and\nthe honors of the state. Let the sovereign never enter into their\ndissensions, let him never persecute for religious opinions, which,\namong sectaries, are commonly on both sides equally ridiculous and\ndestitute of foundation. They would never involve the government if\nthe sovereign had not the weakness to mingle in them. Let him give\nunlimited freedom to the course of thinking, while he directs by just\nlaws the course of acting on the part of his subjects. Let him permit\nevery one to dream or speculate as he pleases, provided he conducts\nhimself otherwise as an honest man and a good citizen. At least let\nthe prince not oppose the progress of knowledge, which alone is\ncapable of extricating his people from ignorance, barbarity, and\nsuperstition, which have made victims of so many Christian rulers. Let\nhim be assured that enlightened and instructed citizens are more\nlaw-abiding, industrious, and peaceable than stupid slaves without\nknowledge and without reason, who will always be ready to take all the\npassions with which a fanatic wishes to inspire them.\n\nLet the sovereign especially occupy himself with the education of his\nsubjects, nor leave the clergy unobstructedly to impregnate his\npeople with mystic notions, foolish reveries, and superstitious\npractices, which are only proper for fanatics. Let him at least\ncounterbalance the inculcation of these follies by teaching a morality\nconformable to the good of the state, useful to the happiness of its\nmembers, and social and reasonable. This morality would inform a man\nwhat he owed to himself, to society, to his fellow-citizens, and to\nthe magistrates who administered the laws. This morality would not\nform men who would hate each other for speculative opinions, nor\ndangerous enthusiasts, nor devotees blindly submissive to the priests.\nIt would create a tranquil, intelligent, and industrious community; a\nbody of inhabitants submissive to reason and obedient to just and\nlegitimate authority. In a word, from such morality would spring\nvirtuous men and good citizens, and it would be the surest antidote\nagainst superstition and fanaticism.\n\nIn this manner the empire of the clergy would be diminished, and the\nsovereign would have a less portentous rival; he would, without\nopposition, be assured of all rational and enlightened citizens; the\nriches of the clergy would in part reenter society, and be of use in\nbenefiting the people; institutions now useless would be put to\nadvantageous uses; a portion of the possessions of the church,\noriginally destined for the poor, and so long appropriated by\navaricious priests, would come into the hands of the suffering and the\nindigent, their legitimate proprietors. Supported by a nation who\nwere sensible of the advantages he had procured them, the prince would\nno longer fear the cries of fanaticism, and they would soon be no\nlonger heard. The priests, the lazy monks, and turbulent persons\nliving in forced celibacy, could no longer calculate on the future,\nand, aliens in the state which nourished them, they would visibly\ndiminish. The government, more rich and powerful, would be in a better\nsituation to diffuse its benefits; and enlightened, virtuous, and\nbeneficent men would constitute the support, the glory, and the\ngrandeur of the state.\n\nSuch, Madam, are the ends which all governments would propose who\nopened their eyes to their own true interests. I flatter myself that\nthese designs will not appear to you either impossible or chimerical.\nKnowledge and science, which begin to be generally diffused, are\nalready advancing these results; they are giving an impulse to the\nmarch of the human mind, and in time, governments and people, without\ntumult or revolution, will be freed from the yoke which has oppressed\nthem so long.\n\nDo we see any thing useful in the pious endowments of our ancestors?\nWe find them to consist of institutions invented to continue a lazy,\nmonastic life; costly temples elevated and enriched by indigent people\nto augment the pride of the priests, and to erect altars and palaces.\nFrom the foundation of Christianity the whole object of religion has\nbeen to aggrandize the priesthood on the ruins of nations and\ngovernments. A jealous religion has exclusively seized on the minds of\nmen, and persuaded them that they live upon earth merely to occupy\nthemselves with their future happiness in the unknown regions of the\nempyrean. It is time that this prestige should cease; it is time that\nthe human race should occupy itself with its own true interests. The\ninterests of the people will always be incompatible with those of the\nguides who believe they have acquired an imprescriptible right to lead\nmen astray. The more you examine the Christian religion, the more will\nyou be convinced that it can be advantageous only to those whose\nobject it is easily to guide mankind after having plunged them into\ndarkness. I am, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER X.\n\n  Of the Advantages Religion confers on those who profess it.\n\n\nI dare flatter myself, Madam, that I have clearly demonstrated to you,\nthat the Christian religion, far from being the support of sovereign\nauthority, is its greatest enemy; and of having plainly convinced you,\nthat its ministers are, by the very nature of their functions, the\nrivals of kings, and adversaries the most to be feared by all who\nvalue or exercise temporal power. In a word, I think I have persuaded\nyou, that society might, without damage, dispense with the services\nthey render, or at least dispense with paying for them so\nextravagantly.\n\nLet us now examine the advantages which this religion procures to\nindividuals, who are most strongly convinced of its pretended truths,\nand who conform the most rigidly to its precepts. Let us see if it is\ncalculated to render its disciples more contented, more happy, and\nmore virtuous than they would be without the burden of its ministers.\n\nTo decide the question, it is sufficient to look around us, and to\nconsider the effects that religion produces on minds really penetrated\nwith its pretended truths. We shall generally find in those who the\nmost sincerely profess and the most exactly practise them, a joyless\nand melancholy disposition, which announces no contentment, nor that\ninterior peace of which they speak so incessantly, without ever\nexhibiting any undoubted manifestations of it. Whoever is in the\nenjoyment of peace within, shows some exterior marks of it; but the\ninternal satisfaction of devotees is commonly so concealed, that we\nmay well suspect it of being nothing but a mere chimera. Their\ninterior peace, which they allege gives them a good conscience, is\nvisible to others only by a bilious and petulant humor, that is not\nusually much applauded by those who come under its influence. If,\nhowever, there are occasionally some devotees who actually display the\nserene countenance of satisfaction and enjoyment, it is because the\ndismal ideas of religion are rendered inoperative by a happy\ntemperament; or that such persons have not fully become impregnated\nwith their system of faith, whose legitimate effect is to plunge its\ndevotees into terrible inquietudes and sombre chagrins.\n\nThus, Madam, we are brought back to the contradictory discourses of\nthose priests who, after having caused terror by their desolating\ndogmas, attempt to reassure us by vague hopes, and exhort us to place\nconfidence in a God whom they have themselves so repulsively\ndelineated. It is idle for them to tell us the yoke of Jesus Christ is\nlight. It is insupportable to those who consider it properly. It is\nonly light for those who bear it without reflection, or for those who\nassume it in order to impose it upon others, without intending to\nsuffer its annoyances themselves.\n\nSuffer me, Madam, to refer you to yourself. Were you happy, contented,\nor gay, when you made me the depository of the secret inquietudes\ninflicted upon you by prejudices, and which had commenced taking that\nfatal empire over your mind which I have endeavored to destroy? Was\nnot your soul involved in woe in spite of your judgment? Were you not\ntaking measures to wither all your happiness? In favor of religion,\nwere you not ready to renounce the world, and disregard all you owe to\nsociety? If I was afflicted, I was not surprised. The Christian\nreligion inevitably destroys the happiness and repose of those who are\nsubjected by it; alarms and terrors are the objects of its pleasures;\nit cannot make those happy who fully receive it. It would certainly\nhave plunged you into distress. All your faculties would have been\ninjured, and your too susceptible imagination would have been carried\nto such dangerous extremes, that many others would have grieved at the\nresult. A gentle and beneficent spirit, like yours, could never\nreceive peace from Christianity. The evils of religion are sure, while\nits consolations are contradictory and vague. They cannot give that\ntemper and tranquillity to the mind which is necessary to enable men\nto labor for their own happiness and that of others.\n\nIn effect, as I have already observed, it is very difficult for an\nindividual to occupy himself with the happiness of another when he is\nhimself miserable. The devotee, who imposes penances on his own head,\nwho is suspicious of every thing, who is full of self-reproaches, and\nwho is heated by visionary meditation, by fasting and seclusion, must\nnaturally be irritated against all those who do not believe it their\nduty to make such absurd sacrifices. He can scarcely avoid being\nenraged at those audacious persons who neglect practices or duties\nthat are claimed as the exactions of God. He will desire to be with\nthose only who view things as he does himself; he will keep himself\napart from all others, and will end by hating them. He believes\nhimself obliged to make a loud and public parade of his mode of\nthinking, and he signalizes his zeal even at the risk of appearing\nridiculous. If he showed indulgence, he would doubtless fear he\nshould render himself an accomplice in a neglect of his God. He would\nreprehend such sinners, and it would be with acrimony, because his own\nsoul was filled with it. In fine, if zealous, he would always be under\nthe dominion of anger, and would only be indulgent in proportion as he\nwas not bigoted.\n\nReligious devotion tends to arouse fierce sentiments, that sooner or\nlater manifest themselves in a manner disagreeable for others. The\nmystical devotees clearly illustrate this. They are vexed with the\nworld, and it could not exist if the extravagances required by\nreligion were altogether carried out. The world cannot be united to\nJesus Christ. God demands our entire heart, and nothing is allowed to\nremain for his weak creatures. To produce the little zeal for heaven\nwhich Christians have, it is requisite to torment them, and thus lead\nthem to the practice of those marvellous virtues in which they imagine\nis placed all their safety. A strange religion, which, practised in\nall its rigor, would drag society to ruin! The sincere devotee\nproposes impossible attainments, of which human nature is not capable;\nand as, in spite of all his endeavors, he is unable to succeed in\ntheir acquisition, he is always discontented with himself. He regards\nhimself as the object of God's anger; he reproaches himself with all\nthat he does; he suffers remorse for all the pleasures he experiences,\nand fears that they may occasion a fall from grace. For his greater\nsecurity, he often avoids society which may at any moment turn him\nfrom his pretended duties, excite him to sin, and render him the\nwitness or accomplice of what is offensive to zealots. In fine, if the\ndevotee is very zealous, he cannot prevent himself from avoiding or\ndetesting beings, who, according to his gloomy notions of religion,\nare perpetually occupied in irritating God. On the other hand, you\nknow, Madam, that it is chagrin and melancholy that lead to devotion.\nIt is usually not till the world abandons and displeases men that they\nhave recourse to heaven; it is in the arms of religion that the\nambitious seek to console themselves for their disgraces and\ndisappointed projects; dissolute and loose women turn devotees when\nthe world discards them, and they offer to God hearts wasted, and\ncharms that are no longer in repute. The ruin of their attractions\nadmonishes them that their empire is no longer of this world; filled\nwith vexation, consumed with chagrin, and irritated against a society\nwhere they were deprived of enacting an agreeable part, they yield\nthemselves up to devotion, and distinguish themselves by religious\nfollies, after having run the race of fashionable vices, and been\nengaged in worldly scandals. With rancor in their hearts, they offer a\ngloomy adoration to a God who indemnifies them most miserably for\ntheir ascetic worship. In a word, it is passion, affliction, and\ndespair to which most conversions must be attributed; and they are\npersons of such character who deliver themselves to the priests, and\nthese mental aberrations and physical afflictions are the marvellous\nstrokes of grace of which God makes use to lead men to himself.\n\nIt is not, then, surprising if we see persons subject to this devotion\nmost commonly ruled by sorrow and passion. These mental moods are\nperpetually aggravated by religion, which is exactly calculated to\nimbitter more and more the souls thus filled with vexations. The\nconversation of a spiritual director is a weak consolation for the\nloss of a lover; the remote and flattering hopes of another world\nrarely make up for the realities of this; nor do the fictitious\noccupations of religion suffice to satisfy souls accustomed to\nintrigues, dissipation, and scandalous pleasures.\n\nThus, Madam, we see that the effects of these brilliant conversions,\nso well adapted to give pleasure to the Omnipotent and to his court,\npresent nothing advantageous for the inhabitants of this lower world.\nIf the changes produced by grace do not render those more happy upon\nwhom they are operated, they cannot cause much admiration on the part\nof those who witness them. Indeed, what advantages does society reap\nfrom the greater part of conversions? Do the persons so touched by\ngrace become better? Do they make amends for the evil they have done,\nor are they heartily and generously engaged in doing good to those by\nwhom they are surrounded? A mistress, for example, who has been\narrogant and proud,--does conversion render her humble and gentle?\nDoes the unjust and cruel man recompense those to whom he has done\nevil? Does the robber return to society the property of which he has\nplundered it? Does the dissipated and licentious woman repair by her\nvigilant cares the wrongs that her disorders and dissipations have\noccasioned? No, far from it. These persons so touched and converted by\nGod ordinarily content themselves with praying, fasting, religious\nofferings, frequenting churches, clamoring in favor of their priests,\nintriguing to sustain a sect, decrying all who disagree with their\nparticular spiritual director, and exhibiting an ardent and ridiculous\nzeal for questions that they do not understand. In this manner they\nimagine they get absolution from God, and give indemnification to men;\nbut society gains nothing from their miraculous conversion. On the\nother hand, devotion often exalts, infuriates, and strengthens the\npassions which formerly animated the converts. It turns these passions\nto new objects, and religion justifies the intolerant and cruel\nexcesses into which they rush for the interest of their sect. It is\nthus that an ambitious personage becomes a proud and turbulent\nfanatic, and believes himself justified by his zeal; it is thus that a\ndisgraced courtier cabals in the name of heaven against his own\nenemies; and it is thus that a malignant and vindictive man, under the\npretext of avenging God, seeks the means of avenging himself. Thus,\nalso, it happens that a woman, to indemnify herself for having\nquitted rouge, considers she has the right to outrage with her acrid\nhumor a husband whom she had previously, in a different manner,\noutraged many times. She piously denounces those who allow themselves\nthe indulgence of the most innocent pleasures; in the belief of\nmanifesting religious earnestness, she exhales downright passion,\nenvy, jealousy, and spite; and in lending herself warmly to the\ninterests of heaven she shows an excess of ignorance, insanity, and\ncredulity.\n\nBut is it necessary, Madam, to insist upon this? You live in a country\nwhere you see many devotees, and few virtuous people among them. If\nyou will but slightly examine the matter, you will find that among\nthese persons so persuaded of their religion, so convinced of its\nimportance and utility, who speak incessantly of its consolations, its\nsweets, and its virtues,--you will find that among these persons there\nare very few who are rendered happier, and yet fewer who are rendered\nbetter. Are they vividly penetrated with the sentiments of their\nafflicting and terrible religion? You will find them atrabilious,\ndisobliging, and fierce. Are they more lightly affected by their\ncreed? You will then find them less bigoted, more beneficent, social,\nand kind. The religion of the court, as you know, is a continual\nmixture of devotion and pleasure, a circle of the exercises of piety\nand dissipation, of momentary fervor and continuous irregularities.\nThis religion connects Jesus Christ with the pomps of Satan. We there\nsee sumptuous display, pride, ambition, intrigue, vengeance, envy, and\nlibertinism all amalgamated with a religion whose _maxims_ are\naustere. Pious casuists, interested for the great, approve this\nalliance, and give the lie to their own religion in order to derive\nadvantage from circumstances and from the passions and vices of men.\nIf these court divines were too rigid, they would affright their\nfashionable disciples seeking to reach heaven on \"flowery beds of\nease,\" and who embrace religion with the understanding that they are\nto be allowed no inconsiderable latitude. This is doubtless the reason\nwhy Jansenism, which wished to renew the austere principles of\nprimitive Christianity, obtained no general influence at the Parisian\ncourt. The monkish precepts of early Christianity could only suit men\nof the temper of those who first embraced it. They were adapted for\npersons who were abject, bilious, and discontented, who, deprived of\nluxury, power, and honors, became the enemies of grandeurs from which\nthey were excluded. The devotees had the art of making a merit of\ntheir aversion and disdain for what they could not obtain.\n\nNevertheless, a Christian, in consonance with his principles, should\n\"take no thought for the morrow;\" should have no individual\npossessions; should flee from the world and its pomps; should give his\ncoat to the thief who stole his cloak; and, if smitten on one cheek,\nshould turn the other to the aggressor. It is upon Stoicism that\nreligious fanatics built their gloomy philosophy. The so-called\nperfections which Christianity proposes place man in a perpetual war\nwith himself, and must render him miserable. The true Christian is an\nenemy both of himself and the human race, and for his own consistency\nshould live secluded in darkness, like an owl. His religion renders\nhim essentially unsocial, and as useless to himself as he is\ndisagreeable to others. What advantage can society receive from a man\nwho trembles without cessation, who is in a state of superstitious\npenance, who prays, and who indulges in solitude? Or what better is\nthe devotee who flies from the world and deprives himself even of\ninnocent pleasures, in the fear that God might damn him for\nparticipation in them?\n\nWhat results from these maxims of a moral fanaticism? It happens that\nlaws so atrocious and cruel are enacted, that bigots alone are willing\nto execute them. Yes, Madam, blameless as you know my whole life to\nhave been, consonant to integrity and honesty as you know my conduct\nto be, and free as I have ever been from intolerance, my existence\nwould be endangered were these letters I am now writing to you to\nappear in print, or even be circulated in manuscript with my name\nattached to them as author. Yes, Christians have made laws, now\ndominant here in France, which would tie me to the stake, consume my\nbody with fire, bore my tongue with a red hot iron, deprive me of\nsepulture, strip my family of my property, and for no other cause than\nfor my opinions concerning Christianity and the Bible. Such is the\nhorrid cruelty engendered by Christianity. It has sometimes been\ncalled in question whether a society of atheists could exist; but we\nmight with more propriety ask if a society of fierce, impracticable,\nvisionary, and fanatical Christians, in all the plenitude of their\nridiculous system, could long subsist.[5] What would become of a\nnation all of whose inhabitants wished to attain perfection by\ndelivering themselves over to fanatical contemplation, to ascetical\npenance, to monkish prayers, and to that state of things set forth in\nthe Acts of the Apostles? What would be the condition of a nation\nwhere no one took any \"thought for the morrow\"?--where all were\noccupied solely with heaven, and all totally neglected whatever\nrelated to this transitory and passing life?--where all made a merit\nof celibacy, according to the precepts of St. Paul?--and where, in\nconsequence of constant occupation in the ceremonials of piety, no one\nhad leisure to devote to the well-being of men in their worldly and\ntemporal concerns? It is evident that such a society could only exist\nin the Thebaid, and even there only for a limited time, as it must\nsoon be annihilated. If some enthusiasts exhibit examples of this\nsort, we know that convents and nunneries are supported by that\nportion of society which they do not enclose. But who would provide\nfor a country that abandoned every thing else for the purpose of\nheavenly contemplations?\n\n[5] Upon this topic consult what Bayle says, _Continuation des Pensees\ndiverses sur la Comete_, Sections 124, 125, tome iv., Rousseau de\nGeneve, in his _Contrat Social_, l. 4, ch. 8. See also the _Lettres\necrites de la Montague_, letter first, pp. 45 to 54, edit. 8vo. The\nauthor discusses the same matter, and confirms his opinions by new\nreasonings, which particularly deserve perusal.--_Note of the Editor_,\n(NAIGEON.)\n\nWe may therefore legitimately conclude that the Christian religion is\nnot fitted for this world; that it is not calculated to insure the\nhappiness either of societies or individuals; that the precepts and\ncounsels of its God are impracticable, and more adapted to discourage\nthe human race, and to plunge men into despair and apathy, than to\nrender them happy, active, and virtuous. A Christian is compelled to\nmake an abstraction of the maxims of his religion if he wishes to live\nin the world; he is no longer a Christian when he devotes his cares to\nhis earthly good; and, in a word, a real Christian is a man of another\nworld, and is not adapted for this.\n\nThus we see that Christians, to humanize themselves, are constantly\nobliged to depart from their supernatural and divine speculations.\nTheir passions are not repressed, but on the contrary are often thus\nrendered more fierce and more calculated to disturb society. Masked\nunder the veil of religion, they generally produce more terrible\neffects. It is then that ambition, vengeance, cruelty, anger, calumny,\nenvy, and persecution, covered by the deceptive name of zeal, cause\nthe greatest ravages, range without bounds, and even delude those who\nare transported by these dangerous passions. Religion does not\nannihilate these violent agitations of the mind in the hearts of its\ndevotees, but often excites and justifies them; and experience proves\nthat the most rigid Christians are very far from being the best of\nmen, and that they have no right to reproach the incredulous either\nconcerning the pretended consequences of their principles, or for the\npassions which are falsely alleged to spring from unbelief.\n\nIndeed, the charity of the peaceful ministers of religion and of their\npious adherents does not prevent their blackening their adversaries\nwith a view of rendering them odious, and of drawing down upon their\nheads the malevolence of a superstitious community, and the\npersecution of tyrannical and oppressive laws; their zeal for God's\nglory permits them to employ indifferently all kinds of weapons; and\ncalumny, especially, furnishes them always a most powerful aid.\nAccording to them, there are no irregularities of the heart which are\nnot produced by incredulity; to renounce religion, say they, is to\ngive a free course to unbridled passions, and he who does not believe\nsurely indicates a corrupt heart, depraved manners, and frightful\nlibertinism. In a word, they declare that every man who refuses to\nadmit their reveries or their marvellous morality, has no motives to\ndo good, and very powerful ones to commit evil.\n\nIt is thus that our charitable divines caricature and misrepresent the\nopponents of their supremacy, and describe them as dangerous\nbrigands, whom society, for its own interest, ought to proscribe and\ndestroy. It results from these imputations that those who renounce\nprejudices and consult reason are considered the most unreasonable of\nmen; that they who condemn religion on account of the crimes it has\nproduced upon the earth, and for which it has served as an eternal\npretext, are regarded as bad citizens; that they who complain of the\ntroubles that turbulent priests have so often excited, are set down as\nperturbators of the repose of nations; and that they who are shocked\nat the contemplation of the inhuman and unjust persecutions which have\nbeen excited by priestly ambition and rascality, are men who have no\nidea of justice, and in whose bosoms the sentiments of humanity are\nnecessarily stifled. They who despise the false and deceitful motives\nby which, to the present time, it has been vainly attempted through\nthe other world to make men virtuous, equitable, and beneficent, are\ndenounced as having no real motives to practise the virtues necessary\nfor their well-being _here_. In fine, the priests scandalize those who\nwish to destroy sacerdotal tyranny, and impostures dangerous alike to\nnations and people, as enemies of the state so dangerous that the laws\nought to punish them.\n\nBut I believe, Madam, that you are now thoroughly convinced that the\ntrue friends of the human race and of governments cannot also be the\nfriends of religion and of priests. Whatever may be the motives or\nthe passions which determine men to incredulity, whatever may be the\nprinciples which flow from it, they cannot be so pernicious as those\nwhich emanate directly and necessarily from a religion so absurd and\nso atrocious as Christianity. Incredulity does not claim extraordinary\nprivileges as flowing from a partial God; it pretends to no right of\ndespotism over men's consciences; it has no pretexts for doing\nviolence to the minds of mankind; and it does not hate and persecute\nfor a difference of opinion. In a word, the incredulous have not an\ninfinity of motives, interests, and pretexts to injure, with which the\nzealous partisans of religion are abundantly provided.\n\nThe unbeliever in Christianity, who reflects, perceives that without\ngoing out of this world there are pressing and real motives which\ninvite to virtuous conduct; he feels the interest that he has in\nself-preservation, and of avoiding whatever is calculated to injure\nanother; he sees himself united by physical and reciprocal wants with\nmen who would despise him if he had vices, who would detest him if he\nwas guilty of any action contrary to justice and virtue, and who would\npunish him if he committed any crimes, or if he outraged the laws. The\nidea of decency and order, the desire of meriting the approbation of\nhis fellow-citizens, and the fear of being subjected to blame and\npunishment, are sufficient to govern the actions of every rational\nman. If, however, a citizen is in a sort of delirium, all the\ncredulity in the world will not be able to restrain him. If he is\npowerful enough to have no fear of men on this earth, he will not\nregard the divine law more than the hatred and the disdain of the\njudges he has constantly before his eyes.\n\nBut the priests may perhaps tell us that the fear of an avenging God\nat least serves to repress a great number of latent crimes that would\nappear but for the influence of religion. Is it true, however, that\nreligion itself prevents these latent crimes? Are not Christian\nnations full of knaves of all kinds, who secretly plot the ruin of\ntheir fellow-beings? Do not the most ostensibly credulous persons\nindulge in an infinity of vices for which they would blush if they\nwere by chance brought to light? A man who is the most persuaded that\nGod sees all his actions frequently does not blush to commit deeds in\nsecret from which he would refrain if beheld by the meanest of human\nbeings.\n\nWhat, then, avails the powerful check on the passions which religion\nis said to interpose? If we could place any reliance on what is said\nby our priests, it would appear that neither public nor secret crimes\ncould be committed in countries where their instructions are received;\nthe priests would appear like a brotherhood of angels, and every\nreligious man to be without faults. But men forget their religious\nspeculations when they are under the dominion of violent passions,\nwhen they are bound by the ties of habit, or when they are blinded by\ngreat interests. Under such circumstances they do not reason. Whether\na man is virtuous or vicious depends on temperament, habit, and\neducation. An unbeliever may have strong passions, and may reason very\njustly on the subject of religion, and very erroneously in regard to\nhis conduct. The religious dupe is a poor metaphysician, and if he\nalso acts badly he is both imbecile and wicked.\n\nIt is true the priests deny that unbelievers ever reason correctly,\nand pretend they must always be in the wrong to prefer natural sense\nto their authority. But in this decision they occupy the place of both\njudges and parties, and the verdict should be rendered by\ndisinterested persons. In the mean time the priests themselves seem to\ndoubt the soundness of their own allegations; they call the secular\narm to the aid of their arguments; they marshal on their side fines,\nimprisonment, confiscation of goods, boring and branding, with hot\nirons, and death at the stake, at this time in France, and in other\nand in most countries of Christendom; they use the scourge to drive\nmen into paradise; they enlighten men by the blaze of the fagot; they\ninculcate faith by furious and bloody strokes of the sword; and they\nhave the baseness to stand in dread of men who cannot announce\nthemselves or openly promulgate their opinions without running the\nrisk of punishment, and even death. This conduct does not manifest\nthat the priests are strongly persuaded of the power of their\narguments. If our clerical theologians acted in good faith, would\nthey not rejoice to open a free course to thorough discussion? Would\nthey not be gratified to allow doubters to propose difficulties, the\nsolution of which, if Christianity is so plain and clear, would serve\nto render it more firm and solid? They find it answers their ends\nbetter to use their adversaries as the Mexicans do their slaves, whom\nthey shackle before attacking, and then kill for daring to defend\nthemselves.\n\nIt is very probable unbelievers may be found whose conduct is\nblamable, and this is because they in this respect follow the same\nline of reasoning as the devotee. The most fanatical partisans of\nreligion are forced to confess that among their adherents a small\nnumber of the elect only are rendered virtuous. By what right, then,\ndo they exact that incredulity, which pretends to nothing\nsupernatural, should produce effects which, according to their own\nadmissions, their pretended divine religion fails to accomplish? If\nall believers were invariably good men, the cause of religion would be\nprovided with an adamantine bulwark, and especially if unbelievers\nwere persons without morality or virtue. But whatever the priests may\naver, the unbelievers are more virtuous than the devotees. A happy\ntemperament, a judicious education, the desire of living a peaceable\nlife, the dislike to attract hatred or blame, and the habit of\nfulfilling the moral duties, always furnish motives to abstain from\nvice and to practise virtue more powerful and more true than those\npresented by religion. Besides, the incredulous person has not an\ninfinity of resources which Christianity bestows upon its\nsuperstitious followers. The Christian can at any time expiate his\ncrimes by confession and penance, and can thus reconcile himself with\nGod, and give repose to his conscience; the unbeliever, on the other\nhand, who has perpetrated a wrong, can reconcile himself neither with\nsociety, which he has outraged, nor with himself, whom he is compelled\nto hate. If he expects no reward in another life, he has no interest\nbut to merit the homage that in all enlightened countries is rendered\nto virtue, to probity, and to a conduct constantly honest; he has no\ninducement but to avoid the penalties and the disdain that society\ndecrees against those who trouble its well-being, and who refuse to\ncontribute to its welfare.\n\nIt appears evident that every man who consults his understanding\nshould be more reasonable than one who only consults his imagination.\nIt is evident that he who consults his own nature and that of the\nbeings who surround him, ought to have truer ideas of good and evil,\nof justice and injustice, and of honesty and dishonesty, than he who,\nto regulate his conduct, consults only the records of a concealed God,\nwhom his priests picture as wicked, unjust, changeable, contradicting\nhimself, and who has sometimes ordered actions the most contrary to\nmorality and to all the ideas that we have of virtue. It is evident\nthat he who regulates his conduct upon sacerdotal morality will only\nfollow the caprice and passions of the priests, and will be a very\ndangerous man, while believing himself very virtuous. In fine, it is\nevident that while conforming himself to the precepts and counsels of\nreligion, a man may be extremely pious without possessing the shadow\nof a virtue. Experience has proved that it is quite possible to adhere\nto all the unintelligible dogmas of the priests, to observe most\nscrupulously all the forms, and ceremonies, and services they\nrecommend, and orally to profess all the Christian virtues, without\nhaving any of the qualities necessary to his own happiness, and to\nthat of the beings with whom he lives. The saints, indeed, who are\nproposed to us as models, were useless members of society. We see them\nto have been either gloomy fanatics, who sacrificed themselves to the\ndesolating ideas of their religion, or excited fanatics, who, under\npretext of serving religion, have perpetually disturbed the repose of\nnations, or enthusiastic theologians, who from their own dreams have\ndeduced systems exactly calculated to infuriate the brains of their\nadherents. A saint, when he is tranquil, proposes nothing whose\naccomplishment will benefit mankind, and only aims to keep himself\nsafe and secluded in his retreat. A saint, when he is active, only\nappears to promulgate reveries dangerous to the world, and to uphold\nthe interests of the church, that he confounds with the interest of\nGod.\n\nIn a word, Madam, I cannot too often repeat it, every system of\nreligion appears to be designed for the utility of the priests; the\nmorality of Christianity has in view only the interests of the\npriesthood; all the virtues that it teaches have solely for an object\nthe church and its ministers; and these ends are always to subject the\npeople, to draw a profit from their toil, and to inspire them with a\nblind credulity. We ought, therefore, to practise morality and virtue\nwithout entering into these conspiracies. If the priests disapprove of\nthose who do not agree with them, and refuse to award any probity to\nthe thinkers who reject their injurious and useless notions, society,\nwhich needs for its own sustenance real and human virtues, will not\nadopt the sentiments nor espouse the quarrels of these men, visibly\nleagued together against it. If the ministers of religion require\ntheir dogmas, their mysteries, and their fanatical virtues to support\ntheir usurped empire, the civil government has a need of reasonable\nvirtues, of an evident, and above all, of a pacific morality, in order\nto exercise its legitimate rights. In fine, the individuals, who\ncompose every society, demand a morality which will render them happy\nin _this_ world, without embarrassing themselves with what only\npretends to secure their felicity in an imaginary sphere, of which\nthey have no ideas except those received from the priests themselves.\n\nThe priests have had the art to unite their religious system with some\nmoral tenets which are really good. This renders their mysteries more\nsacred, and lends authority to their ambiguous dogmas. By the aid of\nthis artifice, they have given currency to the opinion that without\nreligion there can be neither morality nor virtue. I hope, Madam, in\nmy next letter, to complete the exposure of this prejudice, and to\ndemonstrate, to whoever will reflect, how uncertain, abstract, and\ndeceitful are the notions which religion has inspired. I shall clearly\nshow, that they have often infected philosophers themselves; that up\nto the present time, they have retarded the progress of morality; and\nthat they have transformed a science the most certain, plain, and\nsensible to every thinking man, into a system at once doubtful and\nenigmatical, and full of difficulties. I am, Madam, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER XI.\n\n  Of Human or Natural Morality.\n\n\nBy this time, Madam, you will have reflected on what I had the honor\nto address to you, and perceived how impossible it is to found a\ncertain and invariable morality on a religion enthusiastic, ambiguous,\nmysterious, and contradictory, and which never agreed with itself. You\nknow that the God who appears to have taken pleasure in rendering\nhimself unintelligible, that the God who is partial and changeable,\nthat the God whose precepts are at variance one with another, can\nnever serve as the base on which to rear a morality that shall become\npracticable among the inhabitants of the earth. In short, how can we\nfound justice and goodness on attributes that are unjust and evil; yet\nattributes of a Being who tempts man, whom he created, for the purpose\nof punishing him when tempted? How can we know when we do the will of\na God who has said, _Thou shalt not kill_, and who yet allows his\npeople to exterminate whole nations? What idea can we form of the\nmorality of that God who declares himself pleased with the sanguinary\nconduct of Moses, of the rebel, the assassin, the adulterer, David? Is\nit possible to found the holy duties of humanity on a God whose\nfavorites have been inhuman persecutors and cruel monsters? How can we\ndeduce our duties from the lessons of the priests of a God of peace,\nwho, nevertheless, breathes only sedition, vengeance, and carnage? How\ncan we take as models for our conduct _saints_, who were useless\nenthusiasts, or turbulent fanatics, or seditious apostates; who, under\nthe pretext of defending the cause of God, have stirred up the\ngreatest ravages on the earth? What wholesome morality can we reap\nfrom the adoption of impracticable virtues, from their being\nsupernatural, which are visibly useless to ourselves, to those among\nwhom we live, and in their consequences often dangerous? How can we\ntake as guides in our conduct priests, whose lessons are a tissue of\nunintelligible opinions, (_for all religion is but opinion_,) puerile\nand frivolous practices, which these gentlemen prefer to real virtues?\nIn fine, how can we be taught _the truth_, conducted in an unerring\npath, by men of a changeable morality, calculated upon and actuated by\ntheir present interests, and who, although they pretend to preach\ngood-will to men, humanity, and peace, have, as their text-book, a\nvolume stained with the records of injustice, inhumanity, sedition,\nand perfidy?\n\nYou know, Madam, that it is impossible to found morality on notions\nthat are so unfixed and so contrary to all our natural ideas of\nvirtue. By virtue, we ought to understand the habitual dispositions to\ndo whatever will procure us the happiness of ourselves and our\nspecies. By virtue, religion understands only that which may\ncontribute to render us favorable to a hidden God, who attaches his\nfavor to practices and opinions that are too often hurtful to\nourselves, and little beneficial to others. The morality of the\nChristians is a mystic morality, which resembles the dogmas of their\nreligion; it is obscure, unintelligible, uncertain, and subject to the\ninterpretation of frail creatures. This morality is never fixed,\nbecause it is subordinate to a religion which varies incessantly its\nprinciples, and which is regulated according to the pleasure of a\ndespotic divinity, and, more especially, according to the pleasure of\npriests, whose interests are changing daily, whose caprices are as\nvariable as the hours of their existence, and who are, consequently,\nnot always in agreement with one another. The writings which are the\nsources whence the Christians have drawn their morality, are not only\nan abyss of obscurity, but demand continual explications from their\nmasters, the priests, who, in explaining, make them still more\nobscure, still more contradictory. If these oracles of heaven\nprescribe to us in one place the virtues truly useful, in another part\nthey approve, or prescribe, actions entirely opposed to all the ideas\nthat we have of virtue. The same God who orders us to be good,\nequitable, and beneficent, who forbids the revenging of injuries, who\ndeclares himself to be the God of clemency and of goodness, shows\nhimself to be implacable in his rage; announces himself as bringing\n_the sword, and not peace_; tells us that he is come to set mankind at\nvariance; and, finally, in order to revenge his wrongs, orders rapine,\ntreason, usurpation, and carnage. In a word, it is impossible to find\nin the Scriptures any certain principles or sure rules of morality.\nYou there see, in one part, a small number of precepts, useful and\nintelligible, and in another part maxims the most extravagant, and the\nmost destructive to the good and happiness of all society.\n\nIt is in punctuality to fulfil the superstitious and frivolous duties,\nthat the morality of the Jews in the Old Testament writings is chiefly\nconspicuous; legal observances, rites, ceremonies, are all that\noccupied the people of Israel. In recompense for their scrupulous\nexactness to fulfil these duties, they were permitted to commit the\nmost frightful of crimes. The virtues recommended by the Son of God,\nin the New Testament, are not in reality the same as those which God\nthe Father had made observable in the former case. The New Testament\ncontradicts the Old. It announces that God is not pacified by\nsacrifices, nor by offerings, nor by frivolous rites. It substitutes\nin place of these, supernatural virtues, of which I believe I have\nsufficiently proved the inutility, the impossibility, and the\nincompatibility with the well-being of man living in society. The Son\nof God, by the writers of the New Testament, is set at variance with\nhimself; for he destroys in one place what he establishes in another;\nand, moreover, the priests have appropriated to themselves all the\nprinciples of his mission. They are in unison only with God when the\nprecepts of the Deity accord with their present interest. Is it their\ninterest to persecute? They find that God ordains persecution. Are\nthey themselves persecuted? They find that this pacific God forbids\npersecution, and views with abhorrence the persecution of his\nservants. Do they find that superstitious practices are lucrative to\nthemselves? Notwithstanding the aversion of Jesus Christ from\nofferings, rites, and ceremonies, they impose them on the people, they\nsurcharge them with mysterious rites: they respect these more than\nthose duties which are of essential benefit to society. If Jesus has\nnot wished that they should avenge themselves, they find that his\nFather has delighted in vengeance. If Jesus has declared that his\nkingdom is not of this world, and if he has shown contempt of riches,\nthey nevertheless find in the Old Testament sufficient reasons for\nestablishing a hierarchy for the governing of the world in a spiritual\nsense, as kings do in a political one,--for the disputing with kings\nabout their power,--for exercising in this world an authority the most\nunlimited, a license the most terrific. In a word, if they have found\nin the Bible some precepts of a moral tendency and practical utility,\nthey have also found others to justify crimes the most atrocious.\n\nThus, in the Christian religion, morality uniformly depends on the\nfanaticism of priests, their passions, their interests: its principles\nare never fixed; they vary according to circumstances: the God of whom\nthey are the organs, and the interpreters, has not said any thing but\nwhat agrees best with their views, and what never contravenes their\ninterest. Following their caprices, he changes his advice continually;\nhe approves, and disapproves, of the same actions: he loves, or\ndetests, the same conduct; he changes crime into virtue, and virtue\ninto crime.\n\nWhat is the result from all this? It is that the Christians have not\nsure principles in morality: it varies with the policy of the priests,\nwho are in a situation to command the credulity of mankind, and who,\nby force of menaces and terrors, oblige men to shut their eyes on\ntheir contradictions, and minds the most honest to commit faults the\ngreatest which can be committed against religion. It is thus that\nunder a God who recommends the love of our neighbor, the Christians\naccustom themselves from infancy to detest an heretical neighbor, and\nare almost always in a disposition to overwhelm him by a crowd of\narguments received from their priests. It is thus that, under a God\nwho ordains we should love our enemies and forgive their offences, the\nChristians hate and destroy the enemies of their priests, and take\nvengeance, without measure, for injuries which they pretend to have\nreceived. It is thus, that under a just God, a God who never ceases to\nboast of his goodness, the Christians, at the signal of their\nspiritual guides, become unjust and cruel, and make a merit of having\nstifled the cries of nature, the voice of humanity, the counsels of\nwisdom, and of public interest.\n\nIn a word, all the ideas of justice and of injustice, of good and\nevil, of happiness and of misfortune, are necessarily confounded in\nthe head of a Christian. His despotic priest commands him, in the name\nof God, to put no reliance on his reason, and the man who is compelled\nto abandon it for the guidance of a troubled imagination will be far\nmore likely to consult and admit the most stupid fanaticism as the\ninspiration of the Most High. In his blindness, he casts at his feet\nduties the most sacred, and he believes himself virtuous in outraging\nevery virtue. Has he remorse? his priest appeases it speedily, and\npoints out some easy practices by which he may soon recommend himself\nto God. Has he committed injustice, violence, and rapine? he may\nrepair all by giving to the church the goods of which he has despoiled\nworthy citizens; or by repaying by largesses, which will procure him\nthe prayers of the priests and the favor of heaven. For the priests\nnever reproach men, who give them of this world's goods, with the\ninjustice, the cruelties, and the crimes they have been guilty, to\nsupport the church and befriend her ministers; the faults which have\nalmost always been found the most unpardonable, have always been those\nof most disservice to the clergy. To question the faith and reject the\nauthority of the priesthood, have always been the most frightful\ncrimes; they are truly the sin against the Holy Ghost, which can never\nbe forgiven either in this world or in that which is to come. To\ndespise these objects which the priests have an interest in making to\nbe respected, is sufficient to qualify one for the appellation of a\nblasphemer and an impious man. These vague words, void of sense,\nsuffice to excite horror in the mind of the weak vulgar. The terrible\nword sacrilege designates an attempt on the person, the goods, and the\nrights of the clergy. The omission of some useless practice is\nexaggerated and represented as a crime more detestable than actions\nwhich injure society. In favor of fidelity to fulfil the duties of\nreligion, the priest easily pardons his slave submitting to vices,\ncriminal debaucheries, and excesses the most horrible. You perceive,\nthen, Madam, that the Christian morality has really in view but the\nutility of the priests. Why, then, should you be surprised that they\nendeavor to make themselves arbitrary and sovereign; that they deem as\nfaults, and as criminal, all the virtues which agree not with their\nmarvellous systems? The Christian morality appears only to have been\nproposed to blind men, to disturb their reason, to render them abject\nand timid, to plunge them into vassalage, to make them lose sight of\nthe earth which they inhabit, for visions of bliss in heaven. By the\naid of this morality, the priests have become the true masters here\nbelow; they have imagined virtues and practices useful only to\nthemselves; they have proscribed and interdicted those which were\ntruly useful to society; they have made slaves of their disciples, who\nmake virtue to consist in blind submission to their caprices.\n\nTo lay the foundations of a good morality, it is absolutely necessary\nto destroy the prejudices which the priests have inspired in us; it is\nnecessary to begin by rendering the mind of man energetic, and freeing\nit from those vain terrors which have enthralled it; it is necessary\nto renounce those supernatural notions which have, till now, hindered\nmen from consulting the volume of nature, which have subjected reason\nto the yoke of authority; it is necessary to encourage man, to\nundeceive him as to those prejudices which have enslaved him; to\nannihilate in his bosom those false theories which corrupt his nature,\nand which are, in fact, infidel guides, destructive of the real\nhappiness of the species. It is necessary to undeceive him as to the\nidea of his loathing himself, and especially that other idea, that\nsome of his fellow-creatures are not to labor with their hands for\ntheir support, but in spiritual matters for his happiness. In fine, it\nis necessary to influence him with self-love, that he may merit the\nesteem of the world, the benevolence and consideration of those with\nwhom he is associated by the ties of nature or public economy.\n\nThe morality of religion appears calculated to confound society and\nreplunge its members into the savage state. The Christian virtues tend\nevidently to isolate man, to detach him from those to whom nature has\nunited him, and to unite him to the priests--to make him lose sight of\na happiness the most solid, to occupy himself only with dangerous\nchimeras. We only live in society to procure the more easily those\nkindnesses, succors, and pleasures, which we could not obtain living\nby ourselves. If it had been destined that we should live miserably in\nthis world, that we should detest ourselves, fly the esteem of others,\nvoluntarily afflict ourselves, have no attachment for any one, society\nwould have been one heap of confusion, the human kind savages and\nstrangers to one another.\n\nHowever, if it is true that God is the author of man, it is God who\nrenders man sociable; it is God who wishes man to live in society\nwhere he can obtain the greatest good. If God is good, he cannot\napprove that men should leave society to become miserable; if God is\nthe author of reason, he can only wish that men who are possessed of\nreason should employ this distinguishing gift to procure for\nthemselves all the happiness its exercise can bring them. If God has\nrevealed himself, it is not in some obscure way, but in a revelation\nthe most evident and clear of all those supposed revelations, which\nare visibly contrary to all the notions we can form of the Divinity.\nWe are not, however, obliged to dive into the marvellous to establish\nthe duties man owes to man, since God has very plainly shown them in\nthe wants of one and the good offices of another person. But it is\nonly by consulting our reason that we can arrive at the means of\ncontributing to the felicity of our species. It is then evident that\nin regarding man as the creature of God, God must have designed that\nman should consult his reason, that it might procure him the most\nsolid happiness, and those principles of virtue which nature approves.\n\nWhat, then, might not our opinions be were we to substitute the\nmorality of reason for the morality of religion? In place of a partial\nand reserved morality for a small number of men, let us substitute a\nuniversal morality, intelligible to all the inhabitants of the earth,\nand of which all can find the principles in nature. Let us study this\nnature, its wants, and its desires; let us examine the means of\nsatisfying it; let us consider what is the end of our existence in\nsociety; we shall see that all those who are thus associated are\ncompelled by their natures to practise affection one to another,\nbenevolence, esteem, and relief, if desired; we shall see what is that\nline of conduct which necessarily excites hatred, ill-will, and all\nthose misfortunes which experience makes familiar to mankind; our\nreason will tell us what actions are the most calculated to excite\nreal happiness and good will the most solid and extensive; let us\nweigh these with those that are founded on visionary theories; their\ndifference will at once be perceptible; the advantages which are\npermanent we will not sacrifice for those that are momentary; we will\nemploy all our faculties to augment the happiness of our species; we\nwill labor with perseverance and courage to extirpate evil from the\nearth; we will assist as much as we can those who are without friends;\nwe will seek to alleviate their distresses and their pains; we will\nmerit their regard, and thus fulfil the end of our being on earth.\n\nIn conducting ourselves in this manner, our reason prescribes a\nmorality agreeable to nature, reasonable to all, constant in its\noperation, effective in its exercise in benefiting all, in\ncontributing to the happiness of society, collectively and\nindividually, in distinction to the mysticism preached up by priests.\nWe shall find in our reason and in our nature the surest guides,\nsuperior to the clergy, who only teach us to benefit themselves. We\nshall thus enjoy a morality as durable as the race of man. We shall\nhave precepts founded on the necessity of things, that will punish\nthose transgressing them, and rewarding those who obey them. Every\nman who shall prove himself to be just, useful, beneficent, will be an\nobject of love to his fellow-citizens; every man who shall prove\nhimself unjust, useless, and wicked will become an object of hatred to\nhimself as well as to others; he will be forced to tremble at the\nviolation of the laws; he will be compelled to do that which is good\nto gain the good will of mankind and preserve the regard of those who\nhave the power of obliging him to be a useful member of the state.\n\nThus, Madam, if it should be demanded of you what you would substitute\nfor the benefit of society, in place of visionary reveries, I reply, a\nsensible morality, a good education, profitable habits, self-evident\nprinciples of duty, wise laws, which even the wicked cannot\nmisunderstand, but which may correct their evil purposes, and\nrecompenses that may tend to the promotion of virtue. The education of\nthe present day tends only to make youth the slaves of superstition;\nthe virtues which it inculcates on them are only those of fanaticism,\nto render the mind subject to the priests for the remainder of life;\nthe motives to duty are only fictitious and imaginary; the rewards and\npunishments which it exhibits in an obscure glimmering, produce no\nother effect than to make useless enthusiasts and dangerous fanatics.\nThe principles on which enthusiasm establishes morality are changing\nand ruinous; those on which the morality of reason is established are\nfixed, and cannot be overturned. Seeing, then, that man, a reasonable\nbeing, should be chiefly occupied about his preservation and\nhappiness--that he should love virtue--that he should be sensible of\nits advantages--that he should fear the consequences of crime--is it\nto be wondered I should insist so much on the practice of virtue as\nhis chief good? Men ought to hate crime because it leads to misery.\nSociety, to exist, must receive the united virtue of its members,\nobedience to good laws, the activity and intelligence of citizens to\ndefend its privileges and its rights. Laws are good when they invite\nthe members of society to labor for reciprocal good offices. Laws are\njust when they recompense or punish in proportion to the good or evil\nwhich is done to society. Laws supported by a visible authority should\nbe founded on present motives; and thus they would have more force\nthan those of religion, which are founded on uncertain motives,\nimaginary and removed from this world, and which experience proves\ncannot suffice to curb the passions of bad men, nor show them their\nduty by the fear of punishments after death.\n\nIf in place of stifling human reason, as is too much done, its\nperfectibility were studied; if in place of deluging the world with\nvisionary notions, truth were inculcated; if in place of pleading a\nsupernatural morality, a morality agreeable to humanity and resulting\nfrom experience were preached, we should no longer be the dupes of\nimaginary theories, nor of terrifying fables as the bases of virtue.\nEvery one would then perceive that it is to the practice of virtue, to\nthe faithful observation of the duties of morality, that the happiness\nof individuals and of society is to be traced. Is he a husband? He\nwill perceive that his essential happiness is to show kindness,\nattachment, and tenderness to the companion of his life, destined by\nhis own choice to share his pleasures and endure his misfortunes. And,\non the other hand, she, by consulting her true interests, will\nperceive that they consist in rendering homage to her husband, in\ninterdicting every thought that could alienate her affections,\ndiminish her esteem and confidence in him. Fathers and mothers will\nperceive that their children are destined to be one day their\nconsolation and support in old age, and that by consequence they have\nthe greatest interest in inspiring them in early life with sentiments\nof which they may themselves reap the benefit when age or misfortune\nmay require the fruits of those advantages that result from a good\neducation. Their children early taught to reflect on these things,\nwill find their interest to lie in meriting the kindness of their\nparents, and in giving them proofs that the virtues they are taught\nwill be communicated to their posterity. The master will perceive\nthat, to be served with affection, he owes good will, kindness, and\nindulgence to those at whose hands he would reap advantages, and by\nwhose labor he would increase his prosperity; and servants will\ndiscover how much their happiness depends on fidelity, industry, and\ngood temper in their situations. Friends will find the advantages of a\nkindred heart for friendship, and the reciprocity of good offices. The\nmembers of the same family will perceive the necessity of preserving\nthat union which nature has established among them, to render mutual\nbenefits in prosperity or in adversity. Societies, if they reflect on\nthe end of their association, will perceive that to secure it they\nmust observe good faith and punctuality in their engagements. The\ncitizen, when he consults his reason, will perceive how much it is\nnecessary, for the good of the nation to which he belongs, that he\nshould exert himself to advance its prosperity, or, in its\nmisfortunes, to retrieve its glory. By consequence every one in his\nsphere, and using his faculties for this great end, will find his own\nadvantage in restraining the bad as dangerous, and opposing enemies to\nthe state as enemies to himself.\n\nIn a word, every man who will reflect for himself will be compelled to\nacknowledge the necessity of virtue for the happiness of the world. It\nis so obvious that justice is the basis of all society; that good will\nand good offices necessarily procure for men affection and respect;\nthat every man who respects himself ought to seek the esteem of\nothers; that it is necessary to merit the good opinion of society;\nthat he ought to be jealous of his reputation; that a weak being, who\nis every instant exposed to misfortunes, ought to know what are his\nduties, and how he should practise them for the benefit of himself\nand the assembly of which he is a member.\n\nIf we reflect for one moment on the effects of the passions, we shall\nperceive the necessity of repressing them, if we would spare ourselves\nvain regrets and useless sorrows, which certainly always afflict those\nwho obey not the laws. Thus, a single reflection will suffice to show\nthe impropriety of anger, the dreadful consequences of revenge,\ncalumny, and backbiting. Every one must perceive that in giving a free\ncourse to unbridled desires, he becomes the enemy of society, and then\nit is the part of the laws to restrain him who renounces his reason\nand despises the motives that ought to guide him.\n\nIf it is objected that man is not a free agent, and therefore is\nunable to restrain his passions, and that consequently the law ought\nnot to punish him, I reply that the community are impelled by the same\nnecessity to hate what is injurious, and for their own conservation\nand happiness have the right to restrain an unhappily organized\nindividual who is impelled to injure himself and others. The\ninevitable faults of men necessarily excite the hatred of those who\nsuffer from them.\n\nIf the man who consults his reason has real and powerful motives for\ndoing good to others and abstaining from injuring them, he has present\nmotives equally urgent to restrain him from the commission of vice.\nExperience may suffice to show him that if he becomes sooner or later\nthe victim of his excesses, he ceases to be the friend of virtue, and\nexists only to serve vice, which will infallibly punish him. This\nbeing allowed, prudence, or the desire of preserving one's self free\nfrom the contamination of evil, ought to inculcate to every man his\npath of duty; and, unless blinded by his passions, he must perceive\nhow much moderation in his pleasures, temperance, chastity, contribute\nto happiness; that those who transgress in these respects are\nnecessarily the victims of ill health, and too often pass a life both\ninfirm and unfortunate, which terminates soon in death.\n\nHow is it possible, then, Madam, from visionary theories to arrive at\nthese conclusions, and establish from supernatural phantasms the\nprinciples of private and public virtue? Shall we launch into unknown\nregions to ascertain our duty and to keep our station in society? Is\nit not sufficient if we wish to be happy that we should endeavor to\npreserve ourselves in those maxims which reason approves, and on which\nvirtue is founded? Every man who would perish, who would render his\nexistence miserable, whoever would sacrifice permanent happiness for\npresent pleasure, is a fool, who reflects not on the interests that\nare dearest to him.\n\nIf there are any principles so clear as the morality of humanity has\nbeen and is still proved to be, they are such as men ought to observe.\nThey are not obscure notions, mysticism, contradictions, which have\nmade of a science the most obvious and best demonstrated, an\nunintelligible science, mysterious and uncertain to those for whom it\nis designed. In the hands of the priests, morality has become an\nenigma; they have founded our duties on the attributes of a Deity whom\nthe mind of man cannot comprehend, in place of founding them on the\ncharacter of man himself. They have thrown in among them the\nfoundations of an edifice which is made for this earth. They have\ndesired to regulate our manners agreeably to equivocal oracles which\nevery instant contradict themselves, and which too often render their\ndevotees useless to society and to themselves. They have pretended to\nrender their morality more sacred by inviting us to look for\nrecompenses and punishments removed beyond this life, but which they\nannounce in the name of the Divinity. In fine, they have made man a\nbeing who may not even strive at perfection, by a preordination of\nsome to bliss, and consequent damnation of others, whose insensibility\nis the result of this selection.\n\nNeed we not, then, wonder that this supernatural morality should be so\ncontrary to the nature and the mind of man? It is in vain that it aims\nat the annihilation of human nature, which is so much stronger, so\nmuch more powerful, than imagination. In despite of all the subtile\nand marvellous speculations of the priests, man continues always to\nlove himself, to desire his well being, and to flee misfortune and\nsorrow. He has then always been actuated by the same passions. When\nthese passions have been moderate, and have tended to the public\ngood, they are legitimate, and we approve those actions which are\ntheir effects. When these passions have been disordered, hurtful to\nsociety, or to the individual, he condemns them; they punish him; he\nis dissatisfied with his conduct which others cannot approve. Man\nalways loves his pleasures, because in their enjoyment he fulfils the\nend of his existence; if he exceeds their just bounds he renders\nhimself miserable.\n\nThe morality of the clergy, on the other hand, appears calculated to\nkeep nature always at variance with herself, for it is almost always\nwithout effect even on the priesthood. Their chimeras serve but to\ntorture weak minds, and to set the passions at war with nature and\ntheir dogmas. When this morality professes to restrain the wicked, to\ncurb the passions of men, it operates in opposition to the established\nlaws of natural religion; for by preserving all its rigor, it becomes\nimpracticable; and it meets with real devotees only in some few\nfanatics who have renounced nature, and who would be singular, even if\ntheir oddities were injurious to society. This morality, adopted for\nthe most part by devotees, without eradicating their habits or their\nnatural defects, keeps them always in a state of opposition even with\nthemselves. Their life is a round of faults and of scruples, of sins\nand remorse, of crimes and expiations, of pleasures which they enjoy,\nbut for which they again reproach themselves for having tasted. In a\nword, the morality of superstition necessarily carries with it into\nthe heart and the family of its devotees inward distress and\naffliction; it makes of enthusiasts and fanatics scrupulous devotees;\nit makes a great many insensible and miserable; it renders none\nperfect, few good; and those only tolerable whom nature, education,\nand habit had moulded for happiness.\n\nIt is our temperament which decides our condition; the acquisition of\nmoderate passions, of honest habits, sensible opinions, laudable\nexamples, and practical virtues, is a difficult task, but not\nimpossible when undertaken with reason for one's guide. It is\ndifficult to be virtuous and happy with a temperament so ardent as to\nsway the passions to its will. One must in calmness consult reason as\nto his duty. Nature, in giving us lively passions and a susceptible\nimagination, has made us capable of suffering the instant we\ntransgress her bounds. She then renders us necessary to ourselves, and\nwe cannot proceed to consult our real interest if we continue in\nindulgence that she forbids. The passions which reason cannot restrain\nare not to be bridled by religion. It is in vain that we hope to\nderive succors from religion if we despise and refuse what nature\noffers us. Religion leaves men just such as nature and habit have made\nthem; and if it produce any changes on some few, I believe I have\nproved that those changes are not always for the better.\n\nCongratulate yourself, then, Madam, on being born with good\ndispositions, of having received honest principles, which shall carry\nyou through life in the practice of virtue, and in the love of a fine\nand exalted taste for the rational pleasures of our nature. Continue\nto be the happiness of your family, which esteems and honors you.\nContinue to diffuse around you the blessings you enjoy; continue to\nperform only those actions which are esteemed by all the world, and\nall men will respect you. Respect yourself, and others will respect\nyou. These are the legitimate sentiments of virtue and of happiness.\nLabor for your own happiness, and you will promote that of your\nfamily, who will love you in proportion to the good you do it. Allow\nme to congratulate myself if, in all I have said, I have in any\nmeasure swept from your mind those clouds of fanaticism which obscure\nthe reason; and to felicitate you on your having escaped from vague\ntheories of imagination. Abjure superstition, which is calculated only\nto make you miserable; let the morality of humanity be your uniform\nreligion; that your happiness may be constant, let reason be your\nguide; that virtue may be the idol of your soul, cultivate and love\nonly what is virtuous and good in the world; and if there be a God who\nis interested in the happiness of his creatures, if there be a God\nfull of justice and goodness, he will not be angry with you for having\nconsulted your reason; if there be another life, your happiness in it\ncannot be doubtful, if God rewards every one according to the good\ndone here.\n\n                                    I am, with respect, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER XII.\n\n  Of the small Consequence to be attached to Men's Speculations, and\n  the Indulgence which should be extended to them.\n\n\nPermit me, Madam, to felicitate you on the happy change which you say\nhas taken place in your opinions. Convinced by reasons as simple as\nobvious, your mind has become sensible of the futility of those\nnotions which have for a long time agitated it; and the inefficacy of\nthose pretended succors which religious men boasted they could\nfurnish, is now apparent to you. You perceive the evident dangers\nwhich result from a system that serves only to render men enemies to\nindividual and general happiness. I see with pleasure that reason has\nnot lost its authority over your mind, and that it is sufficient to\nshow you the truth that you may embrace it. You may congratulate\nyourself on this, which proves the solidity of your judgment. For it\nis glorious to give one's self up to reason, and to be the votary of\ncommon sense. Prejudice so arms mankind that the world is full of\npeople who slight their judgment; nay, who resist the most obvious\npleas of their understanding. Their eyes, long shut to the light of\ntruth, are unable to bear its rays; but they can endure the\nglimmerings of superstition, which plunges them in still darker\nobscurity.\n\nI am not, however, astonished at the embarrassment you have hitherto\nfelt, nor at your cautious examination of my opinions, which are\nbetter understood the more thoroughly they are examined and compared\nwith those they oppose. It is impossible to annihilate at once\ndeep-rooted prejudices. The mind of man appears to waver in a void\nwhen those ideas are attacked on which it has long rested. It finds\nitself in a new world, wherein all is unknown. Every system of opinion\nis but the effect of habit. The mind has as great difficulty to\ndisengage itself from its custom of thinking, and reflect on new\nideas, as the body has to remain quiescent after it has long been\naccustomed to exercise. Should you, for instance, propose to your\nfriend to leave off snuff, as a practice neither healthful nor\nagreeable in company, he will not probably listen to you, or if he\nshould, it will be with extreme pain that he can bring himself to\nrenounce a habit long familiarized to him.\n\nIt is precisely the same with all our prejudices; those of religion\nhave the most powerful hold of us. From infancy we have been\nfamiliarized with them; habit has made them a sort of want we cannot\ndispense with: our mode of thinking is formed, and familiar to us; our\nmind is accustomed to engage itself with certain classes of objects;\nand our imagination fancies that it wanders in chaos when it is not\nfed with those chimeras to which it had been long accustomed. Phantoms\nthe most horrible are even clear to it; objects the most familiar to\nit, if viewed with the calm eye of reason, are disagreeable and\nrevolting.\n\nReligion, or rather its superstitions, in consequence of the\nmarvellous and bizarre notions it engenders, gives the mind continual\nexercise; and its votaries fancy they are doomed to a dangerous\ninaction when they are suddenly deprived of the objects on which their\nimagination exerted its powers. Yet is this exercise so much the more\nnecessary as the imagination is by far the most lively faculty of the\nmind. Hence, without doubt, it becomes necessary men should replace\nstale fooleries by those which are novel. This is, moreover, the true\nreason why devotion so often affords consolation in great disgraces,\ngives diversion for chagrin, and replaces the strongest passions, when\nthey have been quenched by excess of pleasure and dissipation. The\nmarvellous arguments, chimeras multiply as religion furnishes activity\nand occupation to the fancy; habit renders them familiar, and even\nnecessary; terrors themselves even minister food to the imagination;\nand religion, the religion of priestcraft, is full of terrors. Active\nand unquiet spirits continually require this nourishment; the\nimagination requires to be alternately alarmed and consoled; and there\nare thousands who cannot accustom themselves to tranquillity and the\nsobriety of reason. Many persons also require phantoms to make them\nreligious, and they find these succors in the dogmas of priestcraft.\n\nThese reflections will serve to explain to you the continual\nvariations to which many persons are subject, especially on the\nsubject of religion. Sensible, like barometers, you behold them\nwavering without ceasing; their imagination floats, and is never\nfixed; so often as you find them freely given up to the blackness of\nsuperstition, so often may you behold them the slaves of pernicious\nprejudices. Whenever they tremble at the feet of their priests, then\nare their necks under the yoke. Even people of spirit and\nunderstanding in other affairs are not altogether exempt from these\nvariations of mental religious temperament; but their judgment is too\nfrequently the dupe of the imagination. And others, again, timid and\ndoubting, without spirit, are in perpetual torment.\n\nWhat do I say? Man is not, and cannot always be, the same. His frame\nis exposed to revolutions and perpetual vicissitudes; the thoughts of\nhis mind necessarily vary with the different degrees of changes to\nwhich his body is exposed. When the body is languid and fatigued, the\nmind has not usually much inclination to vigor and gayety. The\ndebility of the nerves commonly annihilates the energies of the soul,\nalthough it be so remarkably distinguished from the body; persons of a\nbilious and melancholy temperament are rarely the subjects of joy;\ndissipation importunes some, gayety fatigues others. Exactly after the\nsame fashion, there are some who love to nourish sombre ideas, and\nthese religion supplies them. Devotion affects them like the vapors;\nsuperstition is an inveterate malady, for which there is no cure in\nmedicine. And it is impossible to keep him free from superstition,\nwhose breast, the slave of fear, was never sensible of courage; nay,\nsoldiers and sailors, the bravest of men, have too often been the\nvictims of superstition. It is education alone that operates in\nradically curing the human mind of its errors.\n\nThose who think it sufficient, Madam, to render a reason for the\nvariations which we so frequently remark in the ideas of men,\nacknowledge that there is a secret bent of the minds of religious\npersons to prejudices, from which we shall almost in vain endeavor to\nrescue their understandings. You perceive, at present, what you ought\nto think of those secret transitions which our priests would force on\nyou, as the inspirations of heaven, as divine solicitations, the\neffects of grace; though they are, nevertheless, only the effects of\nthose vicissitudes to which our constitution is liable, and which\naffect the robust, as well as the feeble; the man of health, as well\nas the valetudinarian.\n\nIf we might form a judgment of the correctness of those notions which\nour teachers boast of, in respect to our dissolution at death, we\nshall find reason to be satisfied, that there is little or no occasion\nthat we should have our minds disturbed during our last moments. It is\nthen, say they, that it is necessary to attend to the condition of\nman; it is then that man, undeceived as to the things of this life,\nacknowledges his errors. But there is, perhaps, no idea in the whole\ncircle of theology more unreasonable than this, of which the\ncredulous, in all ages, have been the dupes. Is it not at the time of\na man's dissolution that he is the least capable of judging of his\ntrue interest? His bodily frame racked, it may be, with pain, his mind\nis necessarily weakened or chafed; or if he should be free from\nexcruciating pain, the lassitude and yielding of nature to the\nirrevocable decrees of fate at death, unfit a man for reasoning and\njudging of the sophisms that are proposed as panaceas for all his\nerrors. There are, without doubt, as strange notions as those of\nreligion; but who knows that body and soul sink alike at death?\n\nIt is in the case of health that we can promise ourselves to reason\nwith justness; it is then that the soul, neither troubled by fear, nor\naltered by disease, nor led astray by passion, can judge soundly of\nwhat is beneficial to man. The judgments of the dying can have no\nweight with men in good health; and they are the veriest impostors who\nlend them belief. The truth can alone be known, when both body and\nmind are in good health. No man, without evincing an insensible and\nridiculous presumption, can answer for the ideas he is occupied with,\nwhen worn out with sickness and disease; yet have the inhuman priests\nthe effrontery to persuade the credulous to take as their examples the\nwords and actions of men necessarily deranged in intellect by the\nderangement of their corporeal frame. In short, since the ideas of men\nnecessarily vary with the different variations of their bodies, the\nman who presumes to reason on his death bed with the man in health,\narrogates what ought not to be conceded.\n\nDo not, then, Madam, be discouraged nor surprised, if you should\nsometimes think of ancient prejudices reclaiming the rights they have\nfor a long time exercised over your reason; attribute, then, these\nvacillations to some derangement in your frame--to some disordered\nmovements of mind, which, for a time, suspend your reason. Think that\nthere are few people who are constantly the same, and who see with the\nsame eyes. Our frame being subject to continual variations, it\nnecessarily follows that our modes of thinking will vary. We think one\ncustom the result of pusillanimity, when the nerves are relaxed and\nour bodies fatigued. We think justly when our body is in health; that\nis to say, when all its parts are fulfilling their various functions.\nThere is one mode of thinking, or one state of mind, which in health\nwe call uncertainty, and which we rarely experience when our frame is\nin its ordinary condition. We do not then reason justly, when our\nframe is not in a condition to leave our mind subject to incredulity.\n\nWhat, then, is to be done, when we would calm our mind, when we wish\nto reflect, even for an instant? Let reason be our guide, and we shall\nsoon arrive at that mode of thinking which shall be advantageous to\nourselves. In effect, Madam, how can a God who is just, good, and\nreasonable, be irritated by the manner in which we shall think, seeing\nthat our thoughts are always involuntary, and that we cannot believe\nas we would, but as our convictions increase, or become weakened? Man\nis not, then, for one instant, the master of his ideas, which are\nevery moment excited by objects over which he has no control, and\ncauses which depend not on his will or exertions. St. Augustine\nhimself bears testimony to this truth: \"There is not,\" says he, \"one\nman who is at all times master of that which presents itself to his\nspirit.\" Have we not, then, good reason to conclude, that our thoughts\nare entirely indifferent to God, seeing they are excited by objects\nover which we have no control, and, by consequence, that they cannot\nbe offensive to the Deity?\n\nIf our teachers pique themselves on their principles, they ought to\ncarry along with them this truth, that a just God cannot be offended\nby the changes which take place in the minds of his creatures. They\nought to know that this God, if he is wise, has no occasion to be\ntroubled with the ideas that enter the mind of man; that if they do\nnot comprehend all his perfections, it is because their comprehension\nis limited. They ought to recollect, that if God is all-powerful, his\nglory and his power cannot be affected by the opinions and ideas of\nweak mortals, any more than the notions they form of him can alter his\nessential attributes. In fine, if our teachers had not made it a duty\nto renounce common sense, and to close with notions that carry in\ntheir consequences the contradictory evidence of their premises, they\nwould not refuse to avow that God would be the most unjust, the most\nunreasonable, the most cruel of tyrants, if he should punish beings\nwhom he himself created imperfect, and possessed of a deficiency of\nreason and common sense.\n\nLet us reflect a little longer, and we shall find that the theologians\nhave studied to make of the Divinity a ferocious master, unreasonable\nand changing, who exacts from his creatures qualities they have not,\nand services they cannot perform. The ideas they have formed of this\nunknown being are almost always borrowed from those of men of power,\nwho, jealous of their power and respect from their subjects, pretend\nthat it is the duty of these last to have for them sentiments of\nsubmission, and punish with rigor those who, by their conduct or their\ndiscourse, announce sentiments not sufficiently respectful to their\nsuperiors. Thus you see, Madam, that God has been fashioned by the\nclergy on the model of an uneasy despot, suspicious of his subjects,\njealous of the opinions they may entertain of him, and who, to secure\nhis power, cruelly chastises those who have not littleness of mind\nsufficient to flatter his vanity, nor courage enough to resist his\npower.\n\nIt is evident, that it is on ideas so ridiculous, and so contrary to\nthose which nature offers us of the Divinity, that the absurd system\nof the priests is founded, which they persuade themselves is very\nsensible and agreeable to the opinions of mankind; and which is very\nseriously insulted, they say, if men think differently; and which will\npunish with severity those who abandon themselves to the guidance of\nreason, the glory of man. Nothing can be more pernicious to the human\nkind than this fatal madness, which deranges all our ideas of a just\nGod--of a God, good, wise, all-powerful, and whose glory and power\nneither the devotion nor rebellion of his creatures can affect. In\nconsequence of these impertinent suppositions of the priesthood, men\nhave ever been afraid to form notions agreeable to the mysterious\nSovereign of the universe, on whom they are dependent; their mind is\nput to the torture to divine his incomprehensible nature, and, in\ntheir fear of displeasing him, they have assigned to him human\nattributes, without perceiving that when they pretend to honor him,\nthey dishonor Deity, and that being compelled to bestow on him\nqualities that are incompatible with Deity, they actually annihilate\nfrom their mind the pure representation of Deity, as witnessed in all\nnature. It is thus, that in almost all the religions on the face of\nthe earth, under the pretext of making known the Divinity, and\nexplaining his views towards mortals, the priests have rendered him\nincomprehensible, and have actually promulgated, under the garb of\nreligion, nothing save absurdities, by which, if we admit them, we\nshall destroy those notions which nature gives us of Deity.\n\nWhen we reflect on the Divinity, do we not see that mankind have\nplunged farther and farther into darkness, as they assimilated him to\nthemselves; that their judgment is always disturbed when they would\nmake their Deity the object of their meditations; that they cannot\nreason justly, because they never have any but obscure and absurd\nideas; that they are almost always in uncertainty, and never agree\nwith themselves, because their principles are replete with doubt; that\nthey always tremble, because they imagine that it is very dangerous to\nbe deceived; that they dispute without ceasing, because that it is\nimpossible to be convinced of any thing, when they reason on objects\nof which they know nothing, and which the imaginations of men are\nforced to paint differently; in fine, that they cruelly torment one\nanother about opinions equally uninteresting, though they attach to\nthem the greatest importance, and because the vanity of the one party\nnever allows it to subscribe to the reveries of the other?\n\nIt is thus that the Divinity has become to us a source of evil,\ndivision, and quarrels; it is thus that his name alone inspires\nterror; it is thus that religion has become the signal of so many\ncombats, and has always been the true apple of discord among unquiet\nmortals, who always dispute with the greatest heat, on subjects of\nwhich they can never have any true ideas. They make it a duty to think\nand reason on his attributes; and they can never arrive at any just\nconclusions, because their mind is never in a condition to form true\nnotions of what strikes their senses. In the impossibility of knowing\nthe Deity by themselves, they have recourse to the opinion of others,\nwhom they consider more adroit in theology, and who pretend to an\nintimate acquaintance with God, being inspired by him, and having\nsecret intelligence of his purposes with regard to the human kind.\nThose privileged men teach nothing to the nations of the earth, except\nwhat their reveries have reduced to a system, without giving them\nideas that are clear and definite. They paint God under characters the\nmost agreeable to their own interests; they make of him a good monarch\nfor those who blindly submit to their tenets, but terrible to those\nwho refuse to blindly follow them.\n\nThus you perceive, Madam, what those men are who have obviously made\nof the Deity an object so bizarre as they announce him, and who, to\nrender their opinions the more sacred, have pretended that he is\ngrievously offended when we do not admit implicitly the ideas they\npromulgate of God. In the books of Moses God defines himself, _I am\nthat I am_; yet does this inspired writer detail the history of this\nGod as a tyrant who tempts men, and who punishes them for being\ntempted; who exterminated all the human kind by a deluge, except a few\nof one family, because one man had fallen; in a word, who, in all his\nconduct, behaves as a despot, whose power dispenses with all the rules\nof justice, reason, and goodness.\n\nHave the successors of Moses transmitted to us ideas more clear, more\nsensible, more comprehensible of the Divinity? Has the Son of God made\nhis Father perfectly known to us? Has the church, perpetually boasting\nof the light she diffuses among men, become more fixed and certain,\nto do away our uncertainty? Alas! in spite of all these supernatural\nsuccors, we know nothing in nature beyond the grave; the ideas which\nare communicated to us, the recitals of our infallible teachers, are\ncalculated only to confound our judgment, and reduce our reason to\nsilence. They make of God a pure spirit; that is to say, a being who\nhas nothing in common with matter, and who, nevertheless, has created\nmatter, which he has produced from his own fiat--his essence or\nsubstance. They have made him the mirror of the universe, and the soul\nof the universe. They have made him an infinite being, who fills all\nspace by his immensity, although the material world occupies some part\nin space. They have made him a being all powerful, but whose projects\nare incessantly varying, who neither can nor will maintain man in good\norder, nor permit the freedom of action necessary for rational beings,\nand who is alternately pleased and displeased with the same beings and\ntheir actions. They make him an infinite good Father, but who avenges\nhimself without measure. They make of him a monarch infinitely just,\nbut who confounds the innocent with the guilty, who has mingled\ninjustice and cruelty, in causing his own Son to be put to death to\nexpiate the crimes of the human kind; though they are incessantly\nsinning and repenting for pardon. They make of him a being full of\nwisdom and foresight, yet insensible to the folly and shortsightedness\nof mortals. They make him a reasonable being who becomes angry at the\nthoughts of his creatures, though involuntary, and consequently\nnecessary; thoughts which he himself puts into their heads; and who\ncondemns them to eternal punishments if they believe not in reveries\nthat are incompatible with the divine attributes, or who dare to doubt\nwhether God can possess qualities that are not capable of being\nreconciled among themselves.\n\nIs it, then, surprising that so many good people are shocked at the\nrevolting ideas, so contradictory and so appalling, which hurl mortals\ninto a state of uncertainty and doubt as to the existence of the\nDeity, or even to force them into absolute denial of the same? It is\nimpossible to admit, in effect, the doctrine of the Deity of\npriestcraft, in which we constantly see infinite perfections, allied\nwith imperfections the most striking; in which, when we reflect but\nmomentarily, we shall find that it cannot produce but disorder in the\nimagination, and leaves it wandering among errors that reduce it to\ndespair, or some impostors, who, to subjugate mankind, have wished to\nthrow them into embarrassment, confound their reason, and fill them\nwith terror. Such appear, in effect, to be the motives of those who\nhave the arrogance to pretend to a secret knowledge, which they\ndistribute among mankind, though they have no knowledge even of\nthemselves. They always paint God under the traits of an inaccessible\ntyrant, who never shows himself but to his ministers and favorites,\nwho please to veil him from the eyes of the vulgar; and who are\nviolently irritated when they find any who oppose their pretensions,\nor when they refuse to believe the priests and their unintelligible\nfarragoes.\n\nIf, as I have often said, it be impossible to believe what we cannot\ncomprehend, or to be intimately convinced of that of which we can form\nno distinct and clear ideas, we may thence conclude that, when the\nChristians assure us they believe that God has announced himself in\nsome secret and peculiar way to them that he has not done to other\nmen, either they are themselves deceived, or they wish to deceive us.\nTheir faith, or their belief in God, is merely an acceptance of what\ntheir priests have taught them of a Being whose existence they have\nrendered more than doubtful to those who would reason and meditate.\nThe Deity cannot, assuredly, be the being whom the Christians admit on\nthe word of their theologians. Is there, in good truth, a man in the\nworld who can form any idea of a spirit? If we ask the priests what a\nspirit is, they will tell us that a spirit is an immaterial being who\nhas none of the passions of which men are the subjects. But what is an\nimmaterial spirit? It is a being that has none of the qualities which\nwe can fathom; that has neither form, nor extension, nor color.\n\nBut how can we be assured of the existence of a being who has none of\nthese qualities? It is by _faith_, say the priests, that we must be\nassured of his existence. But what is this _faith_? It is to adhere,\nwithout examination, to what the priests tell us. But what is it the\npriests tell us of God? They tell us of things which we can neither\ncomprehend nor they reconcile among themselves. The existence, even of\nGod, has, in their hands, become the most impenetrable mystery in\nreligion. But do the priests themselves comprehend this ineffable God,\nwhom they announce to other men? Have they just ideas of him? Are they\nthemselves sincerely convinced of the existence of a being who unites\nincompatible qualities which reciprocally exclude the one or the\nother? We cannot admit it; and we are authorized to conclude, that\nwhen the priests profess to believe in God, either they know not what\nthey say, or they wish to deceive us.\n\nDo not then be surprised, Madam, if you should find that there are, in\nfact, people who have ventured to doubt of the existence of the Deity\nof the theologians, because, on meditating on the descriptions given\nof him, they have discovered them to be incomprehensible, or replete\nwith contradiction. Do not be astonished if they never listen, in\nreasoning, to any arguments that oppose themselves to common sense,\nand seek, for the existence of the priests' Deity, other proofs than\nhave yet been offered mankind. His existence cannot be demonstrated in\nrevelations, which we discover, on examination, to be the work of\nimposture; revelations sap the foundations laid down for belief in a\nDivinity, which they would wish to establish. This existence cannot\nbe founded on the qualities which our priests have assigned to the\nDivinity, seeing that, in the association of these qualities, there\nonly results a God whom we cannot comprehend, and by consequence of\nwhom we can form no certain ideas. This existence cannot be founded on\nthe moral qualities which our priests attribute to the Divinity,\nseeing these are irreconcilable in the same subject, who cannot be at\nonce good and evil, just and unjust, merciful and implacable, wise and\nthe enemy of human reason.\n\nOn what, then, ought we to found the existence of God? The priests\nthemselves tell us that it is on reason, the spectacle of nature, and\non the marvellous order which appears in the universe. Those to whom\nthese motives for believing in the existence of the Divinity do not\nappear convincing, find not, in any of the religions in the world,\nmotives more persuasive; for all systems of theology, framed for the\nexercise of the imagination, plunge us into more uncertainty\nrespecting their evidence, when they appeal to nature for proofs of\nwhat they advance.\n\nWhat, then, are we to think of the God of the clergy? Can we think\nthat he exists, without reasoning on that existence? And what shall we\nthink of those who are ignorant of this God, or have no belief in his\nexistence; who cannot discover him in the works of nature, either as\ngood or evil; who behold only order and disorder succeeding\nalternately? What idea shall we form of those men who regard matter as\neternal, as actuated on by laws, peculiar to itself; as sufficiently\npowerful to produce itself under all the forms we behold; as\nperpetually exerting itself in nourishing and destroying itself, in\ncombining and dissolving itself; as incapable of love or of hatred; as\ndeprived of the faculties of _intelligence_ and _sentiment_ known to\nbelong to beings of our species, but capable of supporting those\nbeings whose organization has made them intelligent, sensible, and\nreasonable?\n\nWhat shall we say of those Freethinkers who find neither good nor\nevil, neither order nor disorder, in the universe; that all things are\nbut relative to different conditions of beings, of which they have\nevidence; and that all that happens in the universe is necessary, and\nsubjected to destiny? In a word, what shall we think of these men?\n\nShall we say that they have only a different manner of viewing things,\nor that they use different words in expressing themselves? They call\nthat _Nature_ which others call the _Divinity_; they call that\n_Necessity_ which all others call the _Divine decrees_; they call that\nthe _Energy_ of _Nature_ which others call the _Author_ of _Nature_;\nthey call that _Destiny_, or _Fate_, which others call _God_, whose\nlaws are always going forward.\n\nHave we, then, any right to hate and to exterminate them? No, without\ndoubt; at least, we cannot admit that we have any reason that those\nshould perish, who speak only the same language with ourselves, and\nwho are reciprocally beneficial to us. Nevertheless, it is to this\ndegree of extravagance that the baneful ideas of religion have\ncarried the human mind. Harassed, and set on by their priests, men\nhave hated and assassinated each other, because that in religious\nmatters they agree not to one creed. Vanity has made some imagine\nthat they are better than others, more intelligible, although they\nsee that theology is a language which they neither understand, nor\nwhich they themselves could invent. The very name of Freethinker\nsuffices to irritate them, and to arm the fury of others, who repeat,\nwithout ceasing, the name of God, without having any precise idea of\nthe Deity. If, by chance, they imagine that they have any notions of\nhim, they are only confused, contradictory, incompatible, and\nsenseless notions, which have been inspired in their infancy by their\npriests, and those who, as we have seen, have painted God in all\nthose traits which their imagination furnished, or those who appear\nmore conformed to their passions and interests than to the well-being\nof their fellow-creatures.\n\nThe least reflection will, nevertheless, suffice to make any one\nperceive, that God, if he is just and good, cannot exist as a being\nknown to some, but unknown to others. If Freethinkers are men void of\nreason, God would be unjust to punish them for being blind and\ninsensible, or for having too little penetration and understanding to\nperceive the force of those natural proofs on which the existence of\nthe Deity has been founded. A God full of equity cannot punish men\nfor having been blind or devoid of reason. The Freethinkers, as\nfoolish as they are supposed, are beings less insensible than those\nwho make professions of believing in a God full of qualities that\ndestroy one another; they are less dangerous than the adorers of a\nchangeable Deity, who, they imagine, is pleased with the extermination\nof a large portion of mankind, on account of their opinions. Our\nspeculations are indifferent to God, whose glory man cannot\ntarnish--whose power mortals cannot abridge. They may, however, be\nadvantageous to ourselves; they may be perfectly indifferent to\nsociety, whose happiness they may not affect; or they may be the\nreverse of all this. For it is evident that the opinions of men do not\ninfluence the happiness of society.\n\nHence, Madam, let us leave men to think as they please, provided that\nthey act in such a manner as promotes the general good of society. The\nthoughts of men injure not others; their actions may--their reveries\nnever. Our ideas, our thoughts, our systems, depend not on us. He who\nis fully convinced on one point, is not satisfied on another. All men\nhave not the same eyes, nor the same brains; all have not the same\nideas, the same education, or the same opinions; they never agree\nwholly, when they have the temerity to reason on matters that are\nenveloped in the obscurity of imaginative fiction, and which cannot be\nsubject to the usual evidence accompanying matters of report, or\nhistoric relation.\n\nMen do not long dispute on objects that are cognizable to their\nsenses, and which they can submit to the test of experience. The\nnumber of self-evident truths on which men agree is very small; and\nthe fundamentals of morality are among this number. It is obvious to\nall men of sense, that beings, united in society, require to be\nregulated by justice, that they ought to respect the happiness of each\nother, that mutual succor is indispensable; in a word, that they are\nobliged to practise virtue, and to be useful to society, for personal\nhappiness. It is evident to demonstration, that the interest of our\npreservation excites us to moderate our desires, and put a bridle on\nour passions; to renounce dangerous habits, and to abstain from vices\nwhich can only injure our fortune, and undermine our health. These\ntruths are evident to every being whose passions have not dominion\nover his reason; they are totally independent of theological\nspeculations, which have neither evidence nor demonstration, and which\nour mind can never verify; they have nothing in common with the\nreligious opinions on which the imagination soars from earth to sky,\nnor with the fanaticism and credulity which are so frequently\nproducing among mankind the most opposite principles to morality and\nthe well-being of society.\n\nThey who are of the Freethinkers' opinions are not more dangerous than\nthey who are of the priests' opinions. In short, Christianity has\nproduced effects more appalling than heathenism. The speculative\nprinciples of the Freethinkers have done no injury to society; the\ncontagious principles of fanaticism and enthusiasm have only served to\nspread disorder on the earth. If there are dangerous notions and fatal\nspeculations in the world, they are those of the devotees, who obey a\nreligion that divides men, and excites their passions, and who\nsacrifice the interests of society, of sovereigns, and their subjects,\nto their own ambition, their avarice, their vengeance and fury.\n\nThere is no question that the Freethinker has motives to be good, even\nthough he admit not notions that bridle his passions. It is true that\nthe Freethinker has no invisible motives, but he has motives, and a\nvisible restraint, which, if he reflects, cannot fail to regulate his\nactions. If he doubts about religion, he does not question the laws of\nmoral obligation; nor that it is his duty to moderate his passions, to\nlabor for his happiness and that of others, to avoid hatred, disdain,\nand discord as crimes; and that he should shun vices which may injure\nhis constitution, reputation, and fortune. Thus, relatively to his\nmorality, the Freethinker has principles more sure than those of\nsuperstition and fanaticism. In fine, if nothing can restrain the\nFreethinker, a thousand forces united would not prevent the fanatic\nfrom the commission of crimes, and the violation of duties the most\nsacred.\n\nBesides, I believe that I have already proved that the morality of\nsuperstition has no certain principles; that it varies with the\ninterests of the priests, who explain the intentions of the Divinity,\nas they find these accordant or discordant to their views and\ninterests; which, alas! are too often the result of cruel and wicked\npurposes. On the contrary, the Freethinker, who has no morality but\nwhat he draws from the nature and character of man, and the constant\nevents which transpire in society, has a certain morality that is not\nfounded either on the caprice of circumstances or the prejudices of\nmankind; a morality that tells him when he does evil, and blames him\nfor the evil so done, and that is superior to the morality of the\nintolerant fanatic and persecutor.\n\nYou thus perceive, Madam, on which side the morality of the\nFreethinkers leans, what advantages it possesses over that inculcated\non the superstitious devotee, who knows no other rule than the caprice\nof his priest, nor any other morality than what suits the interest of\nthe clergy, nor any other virtues than such as make him the slave of\ntheir will, and which are too often in opposition to the great\ninterests of mankind. Thus you perceive, that what is understood by\nthe natural morality of the Freethinker, is much more constant and\nmore sure than that of the superstitious, who believe they can render\nthemselves agreeable to God by the intercession of priests. If the\nFreethinker is blind or corrupted, by not knowing his duties which\nnature prescribes to him, it is precisely in the same way as the\nsuperstitious, whose invisible motives and sacred guides prevent him\nnot from going occasionally astray.\n\nThese reflections will serve to confirm what I have already said, to\nprove that morality has nothing in common with religion; and that\nreligion is its own enemy, though it pretends to dispense with support\nfrom other sources. True morality is founded on the nature of man; the\nmorality of religion is founded only on the chimeras of imagination,\nand on the caprice of those who speak of the Deity in a language too\noften contrary to nature and right reason.\n\nAllow me, then, Madam, to repeat to you, that morality is the only\nnatural religion for man; the only object worthy his notice on earth;\nthe only worship which he is required to render to the Deity. It is\nuniform, and replete with obvious duties, which rest not on the\ndictation of priests, blabbing chit-chat they do not understand. If it\nbe this morality which I have defined, that makes us what we are,\nought we not to labor strenuously for the happiness of our race? If it\nbe this morality that makes us reasonable; that enables us to\ndistinguish good from evil, the useful from the hurtful; that makes us\nsociable, and enables us to live in society to receive and repay\nmutual benefits; we ought at least to respect all those who are its\nfriends. If it be this morality which sets bounds to our temper, it is\nthat which interdicts the commission in thought, word, or action, of\nwhat would injure another, or disturb the happiness of society. If it\nattach us to the preservation of all that is dear to us, it points out\nhow by a certain line of conduct we may preserve ourselves; for its\nlaws, clear and of easy practice, inflict on those who disobey them\ninstant punishment, fear, and remorse; on the other hand, the\nobservance of its duties is accompanied with immediate and real\nadvantages, and notwithstanding the depravity which prevails on earth,\nvice always finds itself punished, and virtue is not always deprived\nof the satisfaction it yields, of the esteem of men, and the\nrecompense of society; even if men are in other respects unjust, they\nwill concede to the virtuous the due meed of praise.\n\nBehold, Madam, to what the dogmas of natural religion reduce us: in\nmeditating on it, and in practising its duties, we shall be truly\nreligious, and filled with the spirit of the Divinity; we shall be\nadmired and respected by men; we shall be in the right way to be loved\nby those who rule over us, and respected by those who serve us; we\nshall be truly happy in this world, and we shall have nothing to fear\nin the next.\n\nThese are laws so clear, so demonstrable, and whose infraction is so\nevidently punished, whose observance is so surely recompensed, that\nthey constitute the code of nature of all living beings, sentient and\nreasoning; all acknowledge their authority; all find in them the\nevidence of Deity, and consider those as sceptics who doubt their\nefficacy. The Freethinker does not refuse to acknowledge as\nfundamental laws, those which are obviously founded on the God of\nNature, and on the immutable and necessary circumstances of things\ncognizable to the faculties of sentient natures. The Indian, the\nChinese, the savage, perceives these self-evident laws, whenever he is\nnot carried headlong by his passions into crime and error. In fine,\nthese laws, so true, and so evident, never can appear uncertain,\nobscure, or false, as are those superstitious chimeras of the\nimagination, which knaves have substituted for the truths of nature\nand the dicta of common sense; and those devotees who know no other\nlaws than those of the caprices of their priests, necessarily obey a\nmorality little calculated to produce personal or general happiness,\nbut much calculated to lead to extravagance and inconvenient\npractices.\n\nHence, charming Eugenia, you will allow mankind to think as they\nplease, and judge of them after their actions. Oppose reason to their\nsystems, when they are pernicious to themselves or others; remove\ntheir prejudices if you can, that they may not become the victims of\ntheir caprices; show them the truth, which may always remove error;\nbanish from their minds the phantoms which disturb them; advise them\nnot to meditate on the mysteries of their priests; bid them renounce\nall those illusions they have substituted for morality; and advise\nthem to turn their thoughts on that which conduces to their happiness.\nMeditate yourself on your own nature, and the duties which it imposes\non you. Fear those chastisements which follow inattention to this law.\nBe ambitious to be approved by your own understanding, and you will\nrarely fail to receive the applauses of the human kind, as a good\nmember of society.\n\nIf you wish to meditate, think with the greatest strength of your mind\non your nature. Never abandon the torch of reason; cherish truth\nsincerely. When you are in uncertainty, pause, or follow what appears\nthe most probable, always abandoning opinions that are destitute of\nfoundation, or evidence of their truth and benefit to society. Then\nwill you, in good truth, yield to the impulse of your heart when\nreason is your guide; then will you consult in the calmness of\npassion, and counsel yourself on the advantages of virtue, and the\nconsequences of its want; and you may flatter yourself that you cannot\nbe displeasing to a wise God, though you disbelieve absurdities, nor\nagreeable to a good God in doing things hurtful to yourself or to\nothers.\n\nLeaving you now to your own reflections, I shall terminate the series\nof Letters you have allowed me to address you. Bidding you an\naffectionate farewell,\n\n                                    I am truly yours.","title":"Letters to Eugenia; Or, A Preservative Against Religious Prejudices","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":75434}