{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_38094/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_38094","id":"gutenberg_38094","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38094","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christianity -- Controversial literature"],"text":"Produced by David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLETTERS TO EUGENIA;\n\nor, A PRESERVATIVE AGAINST RELIGIOUS PREJUDICES.\n\nBy Baron D'holbach\n\n(Paul Henri Thiry Holbach (baron d') Nicolas Freret)\n\nAuthor Of The System Of Nature, The Social System, Good Sense,\nChristianity Unveiled, Ecce Homo, Universal Morality, Religious Cruelty\n&c.\n\nTranslated From The French, By Anthony C. Middleton, M.D.\n\n     ...\"Arctis Religionum animos nodis exsolvere pergo.\"\n     Lucretii De Rerum Natura, lib. iv. v. 6,7.\n\n1870\n\n\n\n\nNAIGEON'S PREFACE.\n\n1768.\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 that\nis caused generally enough in the minds of all men by the exclusive\npossession of any object whatever; that kind of torpor, servitude,\nand terror in which the tyrannical power of the priests then held\nall minds--even those who by the superiority of their talents ought\nnaturally to be the least disposed to bend under the odious yoke of the\nclergy,--all these circumstances united contributed so much to stifle in\nits birth, if I may so express myself, this important manuscript,\nthat for a long time it was supposed to be lost; so much did those who\npossessed it keep it carefully concealed, and so constantly did they\nrefuse to allow a copy to be taken. The manuscripts, indeed, were so\nscarce, even in the libraries of the curious, that the late M. De Boze,\nwhose pleasure it was to collect the rarest works belonging to every\nspecies of literature, could never succeed in acquiring a copy of the\n_Letters to Eugenia_, and in his time there were only three in Paris;\nit may have been from design, _propter metum Judaeorum;_* it may have\nbeen there were actually no more known.\n\n     * On account of fear of the Jews, or, in other words, the\n     intolerant clergy of the despotic government.\n\nIt is not till within five or six years that MSS. of these letters have\nbecome more common; and there is reason to believe that they are now\nconsiderably 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 comprehend\nmany variations, but which also, to use the language of the Biblical\ncritics, have served sometimes to discover and to fix the true reading!\nMore often, however, they have rendered it more uncertain than it was\nbefore what one ought to be followed--a new proof of the multiplicity\nof copies, because the more numerous are the manuscripts of a work, the\nmore they differ from each other, as any one may be fully convinced by\nconsulting those of the _Letter of Thrasybulus to Leucippus_, and the\nvarious readings of the New Testament collected by the learned Mill, and\nwhich amount to more than thirty thousand.\n\nHowever this may be, we have spared no pains to reestablish the text in\nall its purity; and we venture to say, that, with the exception of four\nor five passages, which we found corrupted in all the manuscripts that\nwe had an opportunity to collate, and which we have amended to the best\nof our ability, the edition of these letters that we now offer to the\nreader will probably conform almost exactly with the original manuscript\nof 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\nwith the 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 work\nto be entirely convinced the author was a man of extensive knowledge,\nand one who had meditated profoundly concerning the matters upon which\nhe has treated. His style is clear, simple, easy, and in which we may\nremark a certain urbanity, that leads us to be sure that he was not an\nobscure individual, nor one to whom good company and polished society\nwere unfamiliar. But what especially distinguishes this work, and which\nshould endear it to all good and virtuous people, is the signal honesty\nwhich pervades and characterizes it from the very beginning to the end.\nIt is impossible to read it without conceiving the highest idea of the\nauthor's probity, whoever he may have been--without desiring to have\nhad him for a friend, to have lived with him, and, in a word, without\nrendering justice to the rectitude of his intentions, even when we\ndo not approve of his sentiments. The love of virtue, universal\nbenevolence, respect to the laws, an inviolable attachment to the duties\nof morality, and, in fine, all that can contribute to render men\nbetter, is strongly recommended in these Letters. If, on the one hand\nhe completely overthrows the ruinous edifice of Christianity, it is\nto erect, on the other hand, the immovable foundations of a system\nof morality legitimately established upon the nature of man, upon his\nphysical wants, and upon his social relations--a base infinitely better\nand more solid than that of religion, because sooner or later the lie\nis discovered, rejected, and necessarily drags with it what served\nto sustain it. On the contrary, the truth subsists eternally, and\nconsolidates itself as it grows old: _Opinionum commenta delet dies,\nnaturae judicia confirmat._*\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 bold\nopinions, which the priests, and the satellites subjected to them by\nignorance, denominate _impieties_, which guided his pen. It was only the\ndesire of doing good to his fellow-beings by enlightening them, which\nactuated him, and the wish to uproot, so to speak, religion itself, as\nbeing the source of all the woes which have afflicted mankind for so\nmany ages. This is the motto of which we spoke:--\n\n     \"Si j'ai raison, qu'importe a qui je suis?\"\n     (If reason's mine, no matter who I am.)\n\n     * \"Time effaces the comments of opinion, but it confirms the\n     judgments of nature.\"--Cicero.\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\nmany circumstances in these Letters, that she was not a supposititious\nmarchioness, like her of the _Worlds_ of M. de Fontenelle, and that they\nhave really been written to a woman as distinguished by her rank as by\nher manners. Perhaps she was a lady of the school of the Temple, or of\nSeaux. But these details, in reality, as well as those which concern\nthe name and the life of our author, the date of his birth, that of his\ndeath, &c., are of little importance, and could only serve to satisfy\nthe vain curiosity of some idle readers, who avidiously collect these\nkind of anecdotes, who receive from them a kind of existence in the\nworld, and who feel more satisfaction from being instructed in them\nthan from the discovery of a truth. I know that they endeavor to justify\ntheir curiosity by saying that when a person reads a book which creates\na public sensation, and with which he is himself much pleased, it is\nnatural he should desire to know to whom a grateful homage should be\naddressed. In this case the desire is so much the more unreasonable\nbecause it cannot be satisfied; first, because when death and\nproscription is the penalty, there has never been and there never will\nbe a man of letters so imprudent, and, to speak plainly, so strangely\ndaring, as to publish, or during his life to allow a book to be printed,\nin which he tramples under foot temples, altars, and the statues of the\ngods, and where he attacks without any disguise the most consecrated\nreligious opinions; secondly, because it is a matter of public notoriety\nthat all the works of this character which have appeared for many years\nare the secret testaments of numbers of great men, obliged during their\nlives to conceal their light under a bushel, whose heads death\nhas withdrawn from the fury of persecutors, and whose cold ashes,\nconsequently, do not hear in the tomb either the importunate and\ndenunciatory cries of the superstitious, or the just eulogiums of\nthe friends of truth; thirdly and lastly, _because this curiosity, so\nunfortunately entertained, may compromise in the most cruel manner the\nrepose, the fortune, and the liberty of the relatives and friends of the\nauthors of these bold books!_ This single consideration ought, then,\nto determine those hazarders of conjectures, if they have really\ngood intentions, 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\nTRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.\n\nIn 1819 an anonymous translation of the Letters to Eugenia was published\nin London by Richard Carlile. This translation in some of its parts\nwas sufficiently complete and correct, but in others it was at\nabsolute variance with the original work; in other parts, also, it was\ninterlarded with matter not written by d'Holbach; and in others, large\nportions of the original Letters were entirely omitted, as were likewise\na number of notes and the whole of the preliminary observations, with\nwhich the volume was introduced to the public by Naigeon, so long the\nintimate friend of both d'Holbach and Diderot. In again presenting\nthe work in an English dress, the London translation has been made\nthe foundation of this, but the whole has been thoroughly revised and\ncollated with the original. The omitted portions have been translated\nand inserted in their proper places, and though some passages of the\nLondon work, not entirely faithful to the original, have been allowed to\nstand, yet the book, as it now appears, is essentially a new one, and\nis the most accurate and complete translation of the Letters to Eugenia\nwhich has ever been made into the English language.\n\nThe work at first came anonymously from the press, and the mystery\nof its 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\nbut throughout 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 most\nfree of any in the world, he dared not openly send these Letters from\nhis own press. They were issued in 1768, in two duodecimo volumes,\nwithout any publisher's name, and with the imprint of _London_ on the\ntitle page, in order to set those persecutors at bay who were prowling\nfor victims, and who sought to burn author, printer, and book at the\nsame pile. The prudence of the author and printer saved _them_ from\nthis fate; but the book had hardly reached France before its sale was\nforbidden under penalty of fines and imprisonment, and it was condemned\nby an act of Parliament to be burnt by the public executioner in the\nstreets of Paris, all of which particulars will be narrated in the\nBiographical Memoir of Baron d'Holbach, which I am now preparing for the\npress.\n\nOf the excellence of the Letters to Eugenia, nothing need here be said.\nThe work speaks for itself, and abounds in that eloquence peculiar\nto its author, and overflows with kindly sentiments of humanity,\nbenevolence and virtue. Like d'Holbach's other works, it is\ndistinguished by an ardent love of liberty, and an invincible hatred of\ndespotism; by an unanswerable logic, by deep thought, and by profound\nideas. The tyrant and the priest are both displayed in their true\ncolors; but while the author shows himself inexorable as fate towards\noppressive hierarchies and false ideas, he is tender as an infant to\nthe unfortunate, to those overburdened with unreasonable impositions,\nto those who need consolation and guidance, and to those searching\nafter truth. Addressed, as the Letters were, to a lady suffering from\nreligious falsehoods and terrors, the object of the writer is set forth\nin the motto from Lucretius which he placed on the title page, and which\nmay 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 now\nknow from the _Feuilles Posthumes_ of Lequinio, who had it from Naigeon,\nthat the _Letters_ were written several years before their publication,\nfor the instruction of a lady formerly distinguished at the French\nCourt for her graces and virtues. They were addressed to the charming\nMarguerite, Marchioness de Vermandois. Her husband held the lucrative\npost of farmer-general to the king, and besides inherited large estates.\nHe possessed excellent natural abilities, and his mind was strengthened\nand adorned by culture and letters. Had his modesty permitted him, to\nappear as such, he would now be known as a poet of genius and merit,\nfor he wrote some poems and plays that were much admired by all who were\nallowed to peruse them. He was married in 1763, on the day he completed\nhis twenty-first year, to Marguerite Justine d'Estrades, then only\nnineteen years of age, and whom he saw for the first time in his life\nonly six weeks before they became husband and wife. Like most of the\nmatches then made among the higher classes in France, this was one of a\npurely mercenary character. The father of the Marquis de Vermandois,\nand the father of Marguerite, as a means of joining their estates,\ncontracted their children without deigning to consult the wishes of the\nparties, and obedience or disinheritance was the only alternative. When\nthe compact was concluded, Marguerite was taken from the convent where\nfor five years she had lived as a boarder and scholar, and commenced her\nmarried life and her course in the fashionable world at the same time.\nThe match was far more fortunate than such matches then generally proved\nto be. Marguerite'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\nthe beauties 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 necessary\nthe old comparison of the rose and the lily to do them justice. To\nthese were added a voluptuous figure, agreeable manners, the graces and\nvivacity of wit, and the still more enduring attractions of good humor,\npurity, and benevolence! A female like her could not but be dear to all\nwho enjoyed her intimacy, and a strong friendship sprang up between her\nand Baron d'Holbach. Greatly pleased with him at first, Marguerite was\nafterwards as greatly shocked. When their intercourse had become so\nfamiliar as to permit that frankness and freedom of conversation which\nprevails among intimate friends, she discovered that the Baron was an\nunbeliever in the Christian dogmas which she had learned at the convent,\nwhere, in consequence of her mother's death, she had been educated. She\nhad been taught that an Infidel was a monster in all respects, and she\nwas astounded to find unbelievers in men so agreeable in manners and\nperson, and so profound in learning, as d'Holbach, Diderot, d'Alembert,\nand others. She could deny neither their goodness nor their intellectual\nqualities, and while she admired the individuals she shuddered at their\nincredulity. Especially did she mourn over Baron d'Holbach. He had a\nwife as charming as herself, formerly the lovely Mademoiselle d'Aine,\nwhose beautiful features and seductive figure presented \"A combination,\nand a form, indeed, 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 the\nBaron and his wife, unless she was willing to sacrifice all her hopes of\nheaven, and to plunge headlong down to hell. Her natural good sense and\nlove of her friends struggled with her monastic education and reverence\nfor the priests. The conflict rendered her miserable; and unable to\nenjoy happiness, she retired to her husband's country seat, where she\nbrooded over her wishes and her terrors. In this state of mind she\nat length wrote a touching letter to the Baron, and laid open her\nsituation, requesting him to comfort, console, and enlighten her. Such\nwas the origin of the book now presented in an English dress to the\nreader. It accomplished its purpose with the Marchioness de Vermandois,\nand afterwards its author concluded to publish the work, in hopes it\nmight be equally useful to others. The Letters were _written_ in 1764,\nwhen d'Holbach was in the forty-second year of his age. Twelve different\nworks he had before written and published, and all without the affix of\nhis name. _Eleven_ were upon mineralogy, the arts and the sciences, and\n_one_ only upon theology. That _one_ had been secretly printed in\n1761, at Nancy, with the imprint of London, and was _honored_ with a\nparliamentary statute condemning its publication and forbidding its sale\nor circulation. Christian hatred bestowed upon it the additional\nhonor of causing it to be burned in the streets of Paris by the public\nexecutioner. But the prudence of the author protected his life. He\nattributed the book to a dead man, who had been known to entertain\nsceptical views. It was entitled Christianity Unveiled, and bore on\nits title page the name of Boulanger. This was d'Holbach's first\ncontribution to Infidel literature, and the second similar work written\nby him was the Letters to Eugenia. These were the preludes to more than\na quarter of a hundred different productions numbering among them such\nbooks as _Good Sense, The System of Nature, Ecce Homo, Priests Unmasked,\n&c, &c._, all printed anonymously or pseudonymously at his own\nexpense, without 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 writings,\nattracting notice as they did from the civil and religious powers,\ncommented upon as they were by such men as Voltaire and Frederick the\nGreat, admired as they were by that class who felt and combated\nthe evils of tyranny as well as of religion, of kings as well as of\npriests,--that class who almost drew their life from the books of him\nand his compeers,--he was never seduced from the rule he originally laid\ndown for his literary conduct.\n\nA very few persons he was obliged to trust in order to get his writings\nprinted, and but for that fact Baron d'Holbach would now only be known\nas a gentleman of great wealth, extensive benevolence, and uncommon\nliberality, as a man of profound learning and agreeable colloquial\npowers, as the bountiful friend of men of letters, as the soother of the\ndistressed, as the protector of the miserable, and as the affectionate\nhusband and father. So much of him we should have known; but that he was\nthe author of those books which roused intolerant priests and corrupt\nmagistrates, consistories and parliaments, monarchs and philosophers,\nthe people and their oppressors,--that he was the Archimedes that thus\nmoved the world,--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 Holland,\ntogether with a number of others by the same author, which also appeared\nduring the year 1768,--an eventful year in the history of Infidel\nprogress. The _Letters_ were carefully revised by d'Holbach before they\nwere sent to press. All the passages of a purely personal character were\nomitted, some new matter was incorporated, and some sentences were added\npurposely to keep the author and the lady he addressed in impenetrable\nobscurity. To raise the veil from a man of so much worth and genius, as\nwell as to carry out his idea of doing good, is one of the reasons which\nhave led to the present preparation and publication of this book.\n\nA. C. M.\n\n\n\n\nLETTERS TO EUGENIA\n\n\n\n\nLETTER I. Of the Sources of Credulity, and of the Motives which should\nlead to an examination of religion.\n\nI am unable, Madam, to express the grievous sentiments that the perusal\nof your letter produced in my bosom. Did not a rigorous duty retain me\nwhere I am, you would see me flying to your succor. Is it, then, true\nthat Eugenia is miserable? Is even she tormented with chagrin, scruples,\nand inquietudes? In the midst of opulence and grandeur; assured of the\ntenderness and esteem of a husband who adores you; enjoying at court the\nadvantage, so rare, of being sincerely beloved by every one; surrounded\nby friends who render sincere homage to your talents, your knowledge,\nand your tastes,--how can you suffer the pains of melancholy and sorrow?\nYour pure and virtuous soul can surely know neither shame nor remorse.\nAlways so far removed from the weaknesses of your sex, on what account\ncan you blush? Agreeably occupied with your duties, refreshed with\nuseful reading and entertaining conversation, and having within your\nreach every diversity of virtuous pleasures, how happens it that fears,\ndistastes, and cares come to assail a heart for which every thing\nshould procure contentment and peace? Alas! even if your letter had not\nconfirmed it but too much, from the trouble which agitates you I should\nhave recognized 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 being\nin a state to console you and to reassure you against yourself, you\nwould 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 serenity\nlong ago irradiated my understanding, and banished the terrors with\nwhich I was formerly agitated. What happiness for me if the peace which\nI enjoy should put it in my power to break the charm which yet binds you\nwith the chains of prejudice?\n\nNevertheless, without your express orders, I should never have dared to\npoint out to you a mode of thinking widely different from your own, nor\nto combat the dangerous opinions to which you have been persuaded your\nhappiness is attached. But for your request I should have continued\nto enclose in my own breast opinions odious to the most part of\nmen accustomed to see nothing except by the eyes of judges visibly\ninterested in deceiving them. Now, however, a sacred duty obliges me to\nspeak. Eugenia, unquiet and alarmed, wishes me to explore her heart;\nshe needs assistance; she wishes to fix her ideas upon an object which\ninterests her repose and her felicity. I owe her the truth. It would be\na crime longer to preserve silence. Although my attachment for her did\nnot impose the necessity of responding to her confidence, the love of\ntruth would oblige me to make efforts to dissipate the chimeras which\nrender 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; but\non examining them with still further care and attention, they will cease\nto shock you. Reason, good faith, and truth cannot do otherwise than\nexert great influence over such an intellect as yours. I appeal,\ntherefore, from your alarmed imagination to your more tranquil judgment;\nI appeal from custom and prejudice to reflection and reason. Nature has\ngiven you a gentle and sensible soul, and has imparted an exquisitely\nlively imagination, and a certain admixture of melancholy which disposes\nto despondent revery. It is from this peculiar mental constitution\nthat arise the woes that now afflict you. Your goodness, candor, and\nsincerity preclude your suspecting in others either fraud or malignity.\nThe gentleness of your character prevents your contradicting notions\nthat would appear revolting if you deigned to examine them. You have\nchosen rather to defer to the judgment of others, and to subscribe to\ntheir ideas, than to consult your own reason and rely upon your own\nunderstanding. The vivacity of your imagination causes you to embrace\nwith avidity the dismal delineations which are presented to you; certain\nmen, interested in agitating your mind, abuse your sensibility in order\nto produce alarm; they cause you to shudder at the terrible words,\n_death, judgment, hell, punishment, and eternity_; they lead you to turn\npale at the very name of an inflexible _judge_, whose absolute decrees\nnothing can change; you fancy that you see around you those demons whom\nhe has made the ministers of his vengeance upon his weak creatures; thus\nis your heart filled with affright; you fear that at every instant\nyou may 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 of\ncontentment and peace, are constantly poisoned by inquietudes, scruples,\nand panic terrors, from which a soul as pure as yours ought to be\nforever exempt. The agitation into which you are thrown by these fatal\nideas suspends the exercise of your faculties; your reason is misled by\na bewildered imagination, and you are afflicted with perplexities, with\ndespondency, and with suspicion of yourself. In this manner you become\nthe dupe of those men who, addressing the imagination and stifling\nreason, long since subjugated the universe, and have actually persuaded\nreasonable beings that their reason is either 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 over\nmankind.. Throughout the globe the perfidious ministers of religion have\nbeen either the concealed or the declared enemies of reason, because\nthey always see reason opposed to their views. Every where do they\ndecry it, because they truly fear that it will destroy their empire by\ndiscovering their conspiracies and the futility of their fables. Every\nwhere upon its ruins they struggle to erect the empire of fanaticism\nand imagination. To attain this end with more certainty, they have\nunceasingly terrified mortals with hideous paintings, have astonished\nand seduced them by marvels and mysteries, embarrassed them by enigmas\nand uncertainties, surcharged them with observances and ceremonies,\nfilled their minds with terrors and scruples, and fixed their eyes upon\na future, which, far from rendering them more virtuous and happy\nhere below, has only turned them from the path of true happiness, and\ndestroyed it completely and forever 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 priests\nhave given the name of _religion_ to systems invented by them to\nsubjugate men, whose imagination they had seduced, whose understanding\nthey had confounded, and whose reason they had endeavored 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 race\nwith monstrous fables, with extravagant and disjointed fancies, and\nwith ridiculous chimeras, which, by degrees, become objects that are\nrespected 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 blind\nwho do not consult their reason, and to render those base who constantly\nshudder whenever they recall the ideas with which their priests infected\ntheir minds at an age when they were unable to guard against such\nsnares.\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 those\ninquietudes that now afflict you. It was there that they began to speak\nto you of fables, prodigies, mysteries, and doctrines that you actually\nrevere, while, if these things were announced today for the first\ntime, you would regard them as ridiculous, and as entirely unworthy of\nattention. I have often witnessed your laughter at the simplicity with\nwhich you formerly credited those tales of sorcerers and ghosts, that,\nduring your childhood, were related by the nuns who had charge of your\neducation. When you entered society where for a long time such chimeras\nhave been disbelieved, you were insensibly undeceived, and at present\nyou blush at your former credulity. Why have you not the courage to\nlaugh, in a similar manner, at an infinity of other chimeras with no\nbetter foundation, which torment you even yet, and which only appear\nmore respectable, because you have not dared to examine them with your\nown eyes, or because you see them respected by a public who have never\nexplored them? If my Eugenia is enlightened and reasonable upon all\nother topics, why does she renounce her understanding and her judgment\nwhenever religion is in question? In the mean time, at this redoubtable\nword her soul is disturbed, her strength abandons her, her ordinary\npenetration is at fault, her imagination wanders, she only sees through\na cloud, she is unquiet and afflicted. On the watch against reason, she\ndares not call that to her assistance. She persuades herself that the\nbest course for her to take is to allow herself to follow the opinions\nof a multitude who never examine, and who always suffer themselves to be\nconducted by blind 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,\nand feel no chagrin at finding yourself infected with a general and\ninvoluntary epidemic from which it did not depend on you to escape. The\ngood Abbe de St. Pierre had reason when he said that _devotion was the\nsmallpox of the soul_. I will add that it is rare the disease does not\nleave its pits for life. Indeed, see how often the most enlightened\npersons persist forever in the prejudices of their infancy! These\nnotions are so early inculcated, and so many precautions are continually\ntaken to render them durable, that if any thing may reasonably surprise\nus, it is to see any one have the ability to rise superior to such\ninfluences. The most sublime geniuses are often the playthings of\nsuperstition. The heat of their imagination sometimes only serves to\nlead them the farther astray, and to attach them to opinions which would\ncause them to blush did they but consult their reason. Pascal constantly\nimagined that he saw hell yawning under his feet; Mallebranche was\nextravagantly credulous; Hobbes had a great terror of phantoms and\ndemons;* and the immortal Newton wrote a ridiculous commentary on the\nvials and visions of the Apocalypse. In a word, every thing proves that\nthere is nothing more difficult than to efface the notions with which we\nare imbued during our infancy. The most sensible persons, and those who\nreason with the most correctness upon every other matter, relapse into\ntheir infancy whenever religion is in question.\n\nThus, Madam, you need not blush for a weakness which you hold in common\nwith almost all the world, and from which the greatest men are not\nalways exempt. Let your courage then revive, and fear not to examine\nwith perfect composure the phantoms which alarm you. In a matter which\nso greatly interests your repose, consult that enlightened reason which\nplaces you as much above the vulgar, as it elevates the human species\nabove the other animals. Far from being suspicious of your own\nunderstanding and intellectual faculties, turn your just suspicion\nagainst those men, far less enlightened and honest than you, who, to\nvanquish you, only address themselves to your lively imagination; who\nhave the cruelty to disturb the serenity of your soul; who, under the\npretext of attaching you only to heaven, insist that you must\nsunder the most tender and endearing ties; and in fine, who oblige you\nto proscribe the use of that beneficent reason whose light guides, your\nconduct so judiciously and so safely.\n\n     * On this subject see Bayle's Diet. Critt art. Hobbes,\n     Rem. N.\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 of\nreasoning or reflection. Abandon the futile and trivial ceremonies of\nan objectionable devotion to those idle and peevish women, for whom, as\nsoon as the transient reign of their personal charms is finished, there\nremains no rational relaxation to fill the void of their days, and who\nseek by slander and treachery to console themselves for the loss of\npleasures which they can no longer enjoy. Resist that inclination which\nseems to impel you to gloomy meditation, solitude, and melancholy.\nDevotion is only suited to inert and listless souls, while yours is\nformed for action. You should pursue the course I recommend for the sake\nof your husband, whose happiness depends upon you; you owe it to the\nchildren, who will soon, undoubtedly, need all your care and all your\ninstructions for the guidance of their hearts and understandings; you\nowe it to the friends who honor you, and who will value your society\nwhen the beauty, which now adorns your person and the voluptuousness\nwhich graces your figure have yielded to the inroads of time; you owe it\nto the circle in which you move, and to the world which has a right to\nyour example, possessing as you do virtues that are far more rare\nto persons of your rank than devotion. In fine, you owe happiness to\nyourself; for, notwithstanding the promises of religion, you will never\nfind happiness in those agitations into which I perceive you cast by\nthe lurid 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 persons\nare rarely the most amiable or the most social. Even the most sincere\ndevotion, by subjecting those who embrace it to wearisome and crippling\nceremonies, by occupying their imaginations with lugubrious and\nafflicting objects, by exciting their zeal, is but little calculated to\ngive to devotees that equality of temper, that sweetness of an indulgent\ndisposition, and that amenity of character, which constitute the\ngreatest charms of personal intimacy. A thousand examples might be\nadduced to convince you that devotees who are the most involved in\nsuperstitious observances to please God Digitized by by those women who\nsucceed best in pleasing those by whom they are surrounded. If there\nseems to be occasionally an exception to this rule, it is on the part\nof those who have not all the zeal and fervor which is exacted by their\nreligion. Devotion is either a morose and melancholy passion, or it is\na violent and obstinate enthusiasm. Religion imposes an exclusive and\nentire regard upon its slaves. All that an acceptable Christian gives\nto a fellow-creature is a robbery from the Creator. A soul filled with\nreligious fervor fears to attach itself to things of the earth, lest\nit should lose sight of its jealous God, who wishes to engross constant\nattention, who lays it down as a duty to his creatures that they should\nsacrifice to him their most agreeable and most innocent inclinations,\nand who orders that they should render themselves miserable here below,\nunder the idea of pleasing him. In accordance with such principles,\nwe generally see devotees executing with much fidelity the duty of\ntormenting themselves and disturbing the repose of others. They actually\nbelieve they acquire great merit with the Sovereign of heaven by\nrendering themselves perfectly useless, or even a scourge to the\ninhabitants of the 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 disposition,\nand the beneficence which displays itself in all your conduct, are all\nso great that even religion does not impel you to any dangerous\nexcesses. Nevertheless, devotion often causes strange metamorphoses,\nUnquiet, agitated, miserable within yourself, it is to be feared that\nyour temperament will change, that your disposition will become\nacrimonious, and that the vexatious ideas over which you have so long\nbrooded will sooner or later produce a disastrous influence upon those\nwho approach you. Does not experience constantly show us that religion\neffects changes of this kind? What are called _conversions_, what\ndevotees regard as special acts of divine grace, are very often only\nlamentable revolutions by which real vices and odious qualities are\nsubstituted for amiable and useful characteristics. By a deplorable\nconsequence of these pretended miracles of grace we frequently see\nsorrow succeed to enjoyment, a gloomy and unhappy state to one of\ninnocent gayety, lassitude and chagrin to activity and hilarity, and\nslander, intolerance, and zeal to indulgence and gentleness; nay, what\ndo I say? cruelty itself to humanity. In a word, superstition is a\ndangerous leaven, that is fitted to corrupt even the most honest hearts.\n\nDo you not see, in fact, the excesses to which fanaticism and zeal drive\nthe wisest and best meaning men? Princes, magistrates, and judges become\ninhuman and pitiless as soon as there is a question of the interests of\nreligion. Men of the gentlest disposition, the most indulgent, and\nthe most equitable, upon every other matter, religion transforms to\nferocious beasts. The most feeling and compassionate persons believe\nthemselves in conscience obliged to harden their hearts, to do violence\nto their better instincts, and to stifle nature, in order to show\nthemselves cruel to those who are denounced as enemies to their own\nmanner of thinking. Recall to your mind, Madam, the cruelties of nations\nand governments in alternate persecutions of Catholics or Protestants,\nas either happened to be in the ascendant. Can you find reason, equity,\nor humanity in the vexations, imprisonments, and exiles that in our days\nare inflicted upon the Jansenists? And these last, if ever they should\nattain in their turn the power requisite for persecution, would not\nprobably treat their adversaries with more moderation or justice. Do you\nnot daily see individuals who pique themselves upon their sensibility\nun-blushingly express the joy they would feel at the extermination\nof persons 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 considers\nuseful to the state? Superstition has so greatly stifled all sense of\nhumanity in many persons otherwise truly estimable, that they have\nno compunctions at sacrificing the most enlightened men of the nation\nbecause they could not be the most credulous or the most submissive to\nthe 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 of\nreligion, every one believes himself obliged to show more or less ardor\nand zeal. Have I not often seen you uncertain yourself whether you\nought to sigh or smile at the self-depreciation of devotees ridiculously\ninflamed by that religious vanity which grows out of sectarian\nconventionalities? You also see them participating in theological\nquarrels, in which, without comprehending their nature or purport, they\nbelieve themselves conscientiously obliged to mingle. I have a hundred\ntimes seen you astounded with their clamors, indignant at their\nanimosity, scandalized at their cabals, and filled with disdain at their\nobstinate ignorance. Yet nothing is more natural than these outbreaks;\nignorance has always been the mother of devotion. To be a devotee has\nalways been synonymous to having an imbecile confidence in priests.\nIt is to receive all impulsions from them; it is to think and act only\naccording to them; it is blindly to adopt their passions and prejudices;\nit is faithfully to fulfil practices which their caprice imposes.\n\nEugenia is not formed to follow such guides. They would terminate\nby leading 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 of\nsuperstition and supernatural notions, they would succeed, perhaps, in\ntransforming to vices those happy dispositions that nature has given\nyou. Believe me, Madam, you would gain nothing by such a metamorphosis.\nRather be what you really are. Extricate yourself as soon as possible\nfrom that state of incertitude and languor, from that alternative of\ndespondency and trouble, in which you are immersed. If you will only\ntake your reason and virtue for guides, you will soon break the fetters\nwhose 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, will\nonly prove an inexhaustible source of inquietudes and alarms, and which\nwill deprive you, sooner or later, of those rare qualities which render\nyou so dear to society. Your interest exacts that you should render\npeace to your mind. It is your duty carefully to preserve that sweetness\nof temper, that indulgence, and that cheerfulness, by which you are\nso much endeared to all those who approach you. You owe happiness\nto yourself, and you owe it to those who surround you. Do not, then,\nabandon yourself to superstitious reveries, but collect all the strength\nof your judgment to combat the chimeras which torment your imagination.\nThey will disappear as soon as you have considered them with your\nordinary sagacity.\n\nDo not tell me, Madam, that your understanding is too weak to sound the\ndepths of theology. Do not tell me, in the language of our priests,\nthat the truths of religion are mysteries that we must adopt without\ncomprehending them, and that it is necessary to adore in silence.\nBy expressing themselves in this manner, do you not see they really\nproscribe and condemn the very religion to which they are so solicitous\nyou should adhere? Whatever is supernatural is unsuited to man, and\nwhatever is beyond his comprehension ought not to occupy his attention.\nTo adore what we are not able to know, is to adore nothing. To believe\nin what we cannot conceive, is to believe in nothing. To admit without\nexamination every thing we are directed to admit, is to be basely\nand stupidly credulous. To say that religion is above reason, is to\nrecognize the fact that it was not made for reasonable beings; it is to\navow that those who teach it have no more ability to fathom its depths\nthan ourselves; it is to confess that our reverend doctors do not\nthemselves understand the marvels with which they daily entertain us.\n\nIf the truths of religion were, as they assure us, necessary to all men,\nthey would be clear and intelligible to all men. If the dogmas which\nthis religion teaches were as important as it is asserted, they would\nnot only be within the comprehension of the doctors who preach them,\nbut of all those who hear their lessons. Is it not strange that the\nvery persons whose profession it is to furnish themselves with religious\nknowledge, in order to impart it to others, should recognize their\nown dogmas as beyond their own understanding, and that they should\nobstinately inculcate to the people, what they acknowledge they do not\ncomprehend themselves? Should we have much confidence in a physician,\nwho, after confessing that he was utterly ignorant of his art, should\nnevertheless boast of the excellence of his remedies? This, however, is\nthe constant practice of our spiritual quacks. By a strange fatality,\nthe most sensible people consent to be the dupes of those empirics who\nare perpetually obliged to avow their own profound ignorance.\n\nBut if the mysteries of religion are incomprehensible for even those who\ninculcate it,--if among those who profess it there is no one who knows\nprecisely what he believes, or who can give an account of either his\nconduct or belief,--this is not so in regard to the difficulties with\nwhich we oppose this religion. These objections are simple, within\nthe comprehension of all persons of ordinary ability, and capable of\nconvincing every man who, renouncing the prejudiced of his infancy,\nwill deign to consult the good sense, that nature has bestowed upon all\nbeings 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 incredulous,\nand in repairing the breaches made in the ruinous edifice of religion\nby adversaries who combated under the flag of reason. In all times there\nhave been people who felt the futility of the titles upon which the\npriests have arrogated the right of enslaving the understandings of\nmen, and of subjugating and despoiling nations. Notwithstanding all the\nefforts of the interested and frequently hypocritical men who have taken\nup the defence of religion, from which they and their confederates\nalone are profited, these apologists have never been able to vindicate\nsuccessfully their _divine_ system against the attacks of incredulity.\nWithout cessation they have replied to the objections which have been\nmade, but never have they refuted or annihilated them. Almost in every\ninstance the defenders of Christianity have been sustained by oppressive\nlaws on the part of the government; and it has only been by injuries, by\ndeclamations, by punishments and persecutions, that they have replied\nto the allegations of reason. It is in this manner that they have\napparently remained masters of the field of battle which their\nadversaries could not openly contest. Yet, in spite of the disadvantages\nof a combat so unequal, and although the partisans of religion were\naccoutred with every possible weapon, and could show themselves openly,\nin accordance with _law_, while their adversaries had no arms but those\nof reason, and 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 and\nsuccessfully use the most common objections, and those which have most\nfrequently been urged, since it is evident that up to the present moment\nthe arguments have never been obviated or opposed with satisfactory\nreplies. To convince you, Madam, of what I here advance, you need only\ncompare the most simple and ordinary difficulties which good sense\nopposes to religion, with the pretended solutions that have been given.\nYou will perceive that the difficulties, evident even to the capacities\nof a child, have never been removed by divines the most practised in\ndialectics. You will find in their replies only subtle distinctions,\nmetaphysical subterfuges, unintelligible verbiage, which can never be\nthe language of truth, and which demonstrates the embarrassment, the\nimpotence, and the bad faith of those who are interested by their\nposition in sustaining a desperate cause. In a word, the difficulties\nwhich have been urged against religion are clear, and within the\ncomprehension of every one, while the answers, which have been given\nare obscure, entangled, and far from satisfactory, even to persons most\nversed in such jargon, and plainly indicating that the authors of these\nreplies do not themselves understand what they say.\n\nIf you consult the clergy, they will not fail to set forth the antiquity\nof their doctrine, which has always maintained itself, notwithstanding\nthe continual attacks of the Heretics, the Mecreans, and the Impious\ngenerally, and also in spite of the persecutions of the Pagans. You\nhave, Madam, too much good sense not to perceive at once that the\nantiquity of an opinion proves nothing in its favor. If antiquity was a\nproof of truth, Christianity must yield to Judaism, and that in its turn\nto the religion of the Egyptians and Chaldeans, or, in other words, to\nthe idolatry which was greatly anterior to Moses. For thousands of years\nit was universally believed that the sun revolved round the earth, which\nremained immovable; and yet it is not the less true that the sun is\nfixed, and the earth moves around that. Besides, it is evident--that\nthe Christianity of to-day is not what it formerly was. The continual\nattacks that this religion has suffered from heretics, commencing with\nits earliest history, proves that there never could have existed any\nharmony between the partisans of a pretended divine system, which\noffended all rules of consistency and logic in its very first\nprinciples. Some parts of this celestial system were always denied\nby devotees who admitted other parts. If infidels have often attacked\nreligion without apparent effect, it is because the best reasons become\nuseless against the blindness of a superstition sustained by the public\nauthority, or against the torrent of opinion and custom which sways\nthe minds of most men. With regard to the persecutions which the church\nsuffered on the part of the pagans, he is but slightly acquainted with\nthe effects of fanaticism and religious obstinacy who does not perceive\nthat tyranny is calculated to excite and extend what it persecutes most\nviolently.\n\nYou are not formed to be the dupe of names and authorities. The\ndefenders of the popular superstition will endeavor to overwhelm you by\nthe multiplied testimony of many illustrious and learned men, who not\nonly admitted the Christian religion, but who were also its most zealous\nsupporters.\n\nThey will adduce holy divines, great philosophers, powerful reasoners,\nfathers of the church, and learned interpreters, who have successively\nadvocated the system. I will not contest the understanding of the\nlearned men who are cited, which, however, was often faulty, but will\ncontent myself with repeating that frequently the greatest geniuses\nare not more clear sighted in matters of religion than the people\nthemselves. They did not examine the religious opinions they taught; it\nmay be because they regarded them as sacred, or it may be because\nthey never went back to first principles, which they would have found\naltogether unsound, if they had considered them without prejudice. It\nmay also have happened because they, were interested in defending a\ncause with which their own position was allied. Thus their testimony is\nexceptionable, and their authority carries no great weight.\n\nWith regard to the interpreters and commentators, who for so many ages\nhave painfully toiled to elucidate the divine laws, to explain the\nsacred books, and to fix the dogmas of Christianity, their very labors\nought to inspire us with suspicion concerning a religion which is\nfounded upon such books and which preaches such dogmas. They prove that\nworks emanating from the Supreme Being, are obscure, unintelligible,\nand need human assistance in order to be understood by those to whom\nthe Divinity wished to reveal his will. The laws of a wise God would be\nsimple and clear. Defective laws alone need interpreters.\n\nIt is not, then, Madam, upon these interpreters that you should rely; it\nis upon yourself; it is your own reason that you should consult. It is\n_your_ happiness, it is _your_ repose, that is in question; and these\nobjects are too serious to allow their decision to be delegated to any\nothers than yourself. If religion is as important as we are assured, it\nundoubtedly merits the greatest attention. If it is upon this religion\nthat depends the happiness of men both in this world and in another,\nthere is no subject which interests us so strongly, and which\nconsequently demands a more thorough, careful, and considerate\nexamination. Can there be any thing, then, more strange than the conduct\nof the great majority of men? Entirely convinced of the necessity and\nimportance of religion, they still never give themselves the trouble to\nexamine it thoroughly; they follow it in a spirit of routine and from\nhabit; they never give any reason for its dogmas; they revere it, they\nsubmit to it, and they groan under its weight, without ever inquiring\nwherefore. In fine, they rely upon others to examine it; and they whose\njudgment they so blindly receive are precisely those persons upon whose\nopinions they should look with the most suspicion. The priests arrogate\nthe possession of judging exclusively and without appeal of a system\nevidently invented for their own utility. And what is the language of\nthese priests? Visibly interested in maintaining the received opinions,\nthey exhibit them as necessary to the public good, as useful and\nconsoling for us all, as intimately connected with morality, as\nindispensable to society, and, in a word, as of the very greatest\nimportance. After having thus prepossessed our minds, they next prohibit\nour examining the things so important to be known. What must be thought\nof such conduct? You can only conclude that they desire to deceive you,\nthat they fear examination only because religion cannot sustain it, and\nthat they dread reason because it is able to unveil the incalculably\ndangerous projects 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\nthese precautions, in good faith with yourself, you can weigh with an\nimpartial hand the various opinions concerning religion. From whatever\nsource an opinion may come, acquiesce only in that which shall\nbe 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 you\nin regard to my opinions. I submit them to your judgment. Discuss them,\ncombat them, and never give them your assent until you are convinced\nthat in them you recognize the truth. My sentiments are neither divine\noracles nor theological opinions which it is not permitted to canvass.\nIf what I say is true, adopt my ideas. If I am deceived, point out\nmy errors, and I am ready to recognize them and to subscribe my own\ncondemnation. It will be very pleasant, Madam, to learn truths of you\nwhich, up to the present time, I have vainly sought in the writings of\nour divines. If I have at this moment any advantage over you, it is due\nentirely to that tranquillity which I enjoy, and of which at present you\nare unhappily deprived. The agitations of your mind, the inquietudes of\nyour body, and the attacks of an exacting and ceremonious devotion, with\nwhich your soul is perplexed, prevent you, for the moment, from seeing\nthings coolly, and hinder you from making use of your own understanding;\nbut I have no doubt that soon your intellect, strengthened by reason\nagainst vain chimeras, will regain its natural vigor and the superiority\nwhich belongs 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\nto judge wisely of things, and without which there can be no true\nhappiness.\n\nI perceive, Madam, though rather tardily, the length of this letter; but\nI hope you will pardon it, as well as my frankness. They will at least\nprove the lively interest I take in your painful situation, the sincere\ndesire I feel to bring it to a termination, and the strong inclination\nwhich actuates me to restore you to your accustomed serenity. Less\npressing motives would never have been sufficient to make me break\nsilence. Your own positive orders were necessary to lead me to speak of\nobjects which, once thoroughly examined, give no uneasiness to a healthy\nmind. It has been a law with me never to explain myself upon the subject\nof religion. Experience has often convinced me that the most useless of\nenterprises is to seek to undeceive a prejudiced mind. I was very far\nfrom believing that I ought ever to write upon these subjects. You\nalone, Madam, had the power to conquer my indolence, and to impel me to\nchange my resolution. Eugenia afflicted, tormented with scruples, and\nready to plunge herself into gloomy austerities and superstitions,\ncalculated to render her unamiable to others, without contributing\nhappiness to herself, honored me with her confidence, and requested\ncounsel of her friend. She exacted that I should speak. \"It is enough,\"\nI said; \"let me write for Eugenia; let me endeavor to restore the repose\nshe has lost; let me labor with ardor for her upon whose happiness that\nof so many others is dependent.\"\n\nSuch, Madam, are the motives which induce me to take my pen in hand. In\nlooking forward to the time when you will be undeceived, I shall dare at\nleast to flatter myself that you will not regard me with the same eyes\nwith which priests and devotees look upon every one who has the temerity\nto contradict their ideas. To believe them, every man who declares\nhimself against religion is a bad citizen, a madman armed to justify\nhis passions, a perturbator of the public repose, and an enemy of his\nfellow-citizens, that cannot be punished with too much rigor. My\nconduct is known to you; and the confidence with which you honor me is\nsufficient for my apology. It is for you alone that I write. It is to\ndissipate the clouds that obscure your mental horizon that I communicate\nreflections which, but for reasons so pressing, I should have always\nenclosed in my own bosom. If by chance they shall hereafter fall into\nother hands than yours, and be found of some utility, I shall felicitate\nmyself for having contributed to the establishment of happiness by\nleading back to reason minds which had wandered from it, by making truth\nto be felt and known, and by unmasking impostures which have caused so\nmany misfortune? upon the earth.\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 you\nare disabused of the vain terrors with which you are now oppressed, will\nfully convince you that this religion, which is exhibited to men as a\nconcern the most important, the most true, the most interesting, and the\nmost useful, is only a tissue of absurdities, is calculated to confound\nreason, to disturb the understanding, and can be advantageous to\nnone save those who make use of it to govern the human race. I shall\nacknowledge myself in the wrong if I do not prove, in the clearest\nmanner, that religion is false, useless, and dangerous, and that\nmorality, in its stead, should occupy the spirits and animate the souls\nof all men.\n\nI shall enter more particularly into the subject in my next letter.\nI shall 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 sacred,\nare not only entirely susceptible of being understood by you, but that\nthey are likewise within the comprehension of every one who possesses\neven an ordinary share of good sense. If my frankness shall appear too\nundisguised, I beg you to consider, Madam, that it is necessary I\nshould address you explicitly and clearly. I now consider it my duty to\nadminister an energetic and prompt remedy for the malady with which I\nperceive you to be attacked. Besides, I venture to hope that in a short\ntime you will feel gratified that I have shown you the truth in all its\nintegrity and brilliancy. You will pardon me for having dissipated the\nunreal and yet harassing phantoms which infested your mind. But let my\nsuccess be what it may, my efforts to confer tranquillity upon you will\nat least be evidences of the interest I take in your happiness, of my\nzeal to serve you, and of the respect with which I am your sincere and\nattached friend.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER II. Of the Ideas which Religion gives us of the Divinity\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 lend\na mutual support to each other. A religion, to be _true_, should give us\n_true_ ideas of God; and it is by our reason alone that we are able\nto decide whether what theology asserts concerning this being and his\nattributes is true or otherwise. Truth for men is only conformity to\nreason; and thus the same reason which the clergy proscribe is, in the\nlast 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 must\nbe the judge whether the benefits derived are real or imaginary. Thus,\nas we constantly see, it belongs to reason to decide whether a religion,\na mode of worship, or a system of conduct is advantageous or injurious\nto 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 in\nthe world.\n\nI shall examine whether these ideas accord with each other, whether\nthe dogmas taught by this religion are conformable to those fundamental\nprinciples which are every where acknowledged, whether they are\nconsonant with them, and whether the conduct which Christianity\nprescribes answers to the notions which itself gives us of the Divinity.\nI shall conclude the inquiry by investigating the advantages that the\nChristian religion procures the human race--advantages, according to its\npartisans, that infinitely surpass those which result from all the other\nreligions 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\nby this 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 religion\nis founded upon a special revelation. And to whom was the revelation\nmade? At first to Abraham, and then to his posterity. The God of the\nuniverse, then, the Father of all men, was only willing to be known to\nthe descendants of a Chaldean, who for a long series of years were the\nexclusive possessors of the knowledge of the true God. By an effect of\nhis special kindness, the Jewish people was for a long time the only\nrace favored with a revelation equally necessary for all men. This\nwas the only people which understood the relations between man and the\nSupreme Being. All other nations wandered in darkness, or possessed no\nideas of the Sovereign of nature but such as were crude, ridiculous, or\ncriminal.\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 people\nonly announces a partial God, who favors a portion of his children, to\nthe prejudice of all the others; who consults only his caprice, and not\nreal merit; who, incapable of conferring happiness upon all men, shows\nhis tenderness solely to some individuals, who have, however, no titles\nupon his consideration not possessed by the others. What would you say\nof a father who, placed at the head of a numerous family, had no eyes\nbut for a single one of his children, and who never allowed himself to\nbe seen by any of them except that favored one? What would you say if he\nwas displeased with the rest for not being acquainted with his features,\nnotwithstanding he would never allow them to approach his person? Would\nyou not accuse such a father of caprice, cruelty, folly, and a want of\nreason, if he visited with his anger the children whom he had himself\nexcluded from his presence? Would you not impute to him an injustice\nof which none but the most brutal of our species could be guilty if he\nactually punished them for not having executed orders which he was never\npleased 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, impartial,\nnor equitable, but an unjust and capricious tyrant, who, though he may\nshow kindness and preference to some of his creatures, at any rate\nacts with the greatest cruelty towards all the others. This admitted,\nrevelation does not prove the goodness, but the caprice and partiality\nof the God that religion represents to us as full of sagacity,\nbenevolence, and equity, and that it describes as the common father of\nall the inhabitants of the earth. If the interest and self-love of those\nwhom he favors makes them admire the profound views of a God because\nhe has loaded them with benefits to the prejudice of their brethren,\nhe must appear very unjust, on the other hand, to all those who are\nthe victims of his partiality. A hateful pride alone could induce a few\npersons to believe that they were, to the exclusion of all others, the\ncherished children of Providence. Blinded by their vanity, they do not\nperceive that it is to give the lie to universal and infinite goodness\nto suppose that God was capable of favoring with his preference some\nmen or nations, to the exclusion of others. All ought to be equal in his\neyes if it is true they are all equally the work of his hands.\n\nIt is nevertheless, upon partial revelations that are founded all\nthe religions of the world. In the same manner that every individual\nbelieves himself the most important being in the universe, every nation\nentertains the idea that it ought to enjoy the peculiar tenderness of\nthe Sovereign of nature, to the exclusion of all the others. If the\ninhabitants of Hindostan imagine that it was for them alone that Brama\nspoke, the Jews and the Christians have persuaded themselves that it was\nonly for them that the world was created, and that it is solely for them\nthat God was revealed.\n\nBut let us suppose for a moment that God has really made himself known.\nHow could a pure spirit render himself sensible? What form did he take?\nOf what material organs did he make use in order to speak? How can an\ninfinite Being communicate with those which are finite? I may be assured\nthat, to accommodate himself to the weakness of his creatures, he made\nuse of the agency of some chosen men to announce his wishes to all the\nrest, and that he filled these agents with his spirit, and spoke by\ntheir mouths. But can we possibly conceive that an infinite Being could\nunite himself with the finite nature of man? How can I be certain that\nhe who professes to be inspired by the Divinity does not promulgate his\nown reveries or impostures as the oracles of heaven? What means have\nI of recognizing whether God really speaks by his voice? The immediate\nreply will be, that God, to give weight to the declarations of those\nwhom he has chosen to be his interpreters, endowed them with a portion\nof his own omnipotence, and that they wrought miracles to prove their\ndivine 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 conclude\nthat miracles are impossible, seeing they are incompatible with our\nideas of the wisdom and immutability of the Creator of the universe.\nBesides, these miracles would be useless to God. If he be omnipotent,\ncan he not modify the minds of his creatures according to his own will?\n\nTo convince and to persuade them, he has only to will that they shall be\nconvinced and persuaded. He has only to tell them things that are clear\nand sensible, things that may be demonstrated; and to evidence of such\na kind they will not fail to give their assent. To do this, he will have\nno need either of miracles or interpreters; truth alone is sufficient to\nwin mankind.\n\nSupposing, nevertheless, the utility and possibility of these miracles,\nhow shall I ascertain whether the wonderful operation which I see\nperformed by the interpreter of the Deity be conformable or contrary to\nthe laws of nature? Am I acquainted with all these laws? May not he who\nspeaks to me in the name of the Lord execute by natural means, though to\nme unknown, those works which appear altogether extraordinary? How shall\nI assure myself that he does not deceive me? Does not my ignorance of\nthe secrets and shifts of his art expose me to be the dupe of an able\nimpostor, who might make use of the name of God to inspire me with\nrespect, and to screen his deception? Thus his pretended miracles ought\nto make me suspect him, even though I were a witness of them; but how\nwould the case stand, were these miracles said to have been performed\nsome thousands of years before my existence? I shall be told that they\nwere attested by a multitude of witnesses; but if I cannot trust to\nmyself when a miracle is performing, how shall I have confidence in\nothers, who may be either more ignorant or more stupid than myself,\nor who perhaps thought themselves interested in supporting by their\ntestimony tales entirely destitute of reality?\n\nIf, on the contrary, I admit these miracles, what do they prove to\nme? Will 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 not\nforce me to believe that he is subject to change. If I be convinced that\nGod is just and good, a miracle will never be sufficient to persuade me\nthat he is unjust and wicked. If I possess an idea of his wisdom, all\nthe miracles in the world would not persuade me that God would act like\na madman. Shall I be told that he would consent to perform miracles that\ndestroy his divinity, or that are proper only to erase from the minds of\nmen the ideas which they ought to entertain of his infinite perfections?\nThis, however, is what would happen were God himself to perform, or\nto grant the power of performing, miracles in favor of a particular\nrevelation. He would, in that case, derange the course of nature, to\nteach the world that he is capricious, partial, unjust, and cruel; he\nwould make use of his omnipotence purposely to convince us that his\ngoodness was insufficient for the welfare of his creatures; he would\nmake a vain parade of his power, to hide his inability to convince\nmankind by a single act of his will. In short, he would interfere with\nthe eternal and immutable laws of nature, to show us that he is subject\nto change, and to announce to mankind some important news, which they\nhad hitherto 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 contradiction\nto the ideas we have of the Deity. They will show us that he acts in\nan unjust and an arbitrary manner, consulting only his own whims in the\nfavors he bestows, and continually changing his conduct; that he was\nunable to communicate all at once to mankind the knowledge necessary\nto their existence, and to give them that degree of perfection of which\ntheir natures were susceptible. Hence, Madam, you may see that the\nsupposition of a revelation can never be reconciled with the infinite\ngoodness, justice, omnipotence, and immutability of the Sovereign of the\nuniverse.\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 owes\nnothing to his creatures; that he can dispose of them as he pleases,\nwithout any injustice, and without their having any right of complaint;\nthat man is incapable of sounding the profundity of his decrees; and\nthat his justice is not the justice of men. But all these answers, which\ndivines have continually in their mouths, serve only to accelerate\nthe destruction of those sublime ideas which they have given us of the\nDeity. The result appears to be, that God conducts himself according to\nthe maxims of a fantastic sovereign, who, satisfied in having rewarded\nsome of his favorites, thinks himself justified in neglecting the rest\nof his subjects, and to leave them groaning in the most deplorable\nmisery.\n\nYou must acknowledge, Madam, it is not on such a model that we can form\na powerful, equitable, and beneficent God, whose omnipotence ought to\nenable him to procure happiness to all his subjects, without fear of\nexhausting 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 God\nis _just_; seeing that by justice it is not possible for us to conceive\nany thing except a similar quality to that called justice by the beings\nof our own species. If divine justice bears no resemblance to human\njustice,--if, on the contrary, this justice resembles what we call\ninjustice,--then all our ideas confound themselves, and we know not\neither what we mean or what we say when we affirm that God is just\nAccording to human ideas, (which are, however, the only ones that men\nare possessed of,) justice will always exclude caprice and partiality;\nand never can we prevent ourselves from regarding as iniquitous and\nvicious a sovereign who, being both able and willing to occupy himself\nwith the happiness of his subjects, should plunge the greatest number\nof them into misfortune, and reserve his kindness for those to whom his\nwhims 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 and\ngoodness, and tends visibly to sap the foundation of all religion. A God\nthat is just and good owes happiness to every being to whom he has given\nexistence; he ceases to be just and good if he produce them only to\nrender them miserable; and he would be destitute of both wisdom and\nreason were he to give them birth only to be the victims of his caprice.\nWhat should we think of a father bringing children into the world for\nthe sole purpose of putting their eyes out and tormenting them at his\nease?\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 are\ninculcated are only founded upon a fatal prejudice prevalent among the\ngenerality of men, leading them to suppose that unlimited power must\ninevitably exempt its possessor from an accordance with the laws of\nequity; that force can confer the right of committing bad actions; and\nthat no one could properly demand an account of his conduct of a man\nsufficiently powerful to carry out all his caprices. These ideas are\nevidently borrowed from the conduct of tyrants, who no sooner find\nthemselves possessed of absolute power than they cease to recognize any\nother rules than their own fantasies, and imagine that justice has no\nclaims 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\nto regard 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 imagination\ncould devise. We are informed that the God who created all men has been\nunwilling to be known except to a very small number of them, and that\nwhile this favored portion exclusively enjoyed the benefits of his\nkindness, all the others were objects of his anger, and were only\ncreated by him to be left in blindness for the very purpose of punishing\nthem in the most cruel manner. We see these pernicious characteristics\nof the Divinity penetrating the entire economy of the Christian\nreligion; we find them in the books which are pretended to be inspired,\nand we discover them in the dogmas of predestination and grace. In\na word, every thing in religion announces a despotic God, whom his\ndisciples vainly attempt to represent to us as just, while all that they\ndeclare of him only proves his injustice, his tyrannical caprices, his\nextravagances, so frequently cruel, and his partiality, so pernicious to\nthe greater portion of the human race.\n\nWhen we exclaim against conduct which, in the eyes of all reasonable\nmen, must appear so excessively capricious, it is expected that our\nmouths will be closed by the assertion that God is omnipotent, that\nit is for him to determine how he will bestow benefits, and that he\nis under no obligations to any of his creatures. His apologists end\nby endeavoring to intimidate us with the frightful and iniquitous\npunishments that he reserves for those who are so audacious as to\nmurmur.\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 sovereign\nbe as powerful as he may, he is not on that account less blamable when\nin rewards and punishments he follows only his caprice. It is true, we\nmay fear him, we may flatter him, we may pay him servile homage; but\nnever shall we love him sincerely; never shall we serve him faithfully;\nnever shall we look up to him as the model of justice and goodness. If\nthose who receive his kindness believe him to be just and good, those\nwho are the objects of his folly and rigor cannot prevent themselves\nfrom detesting his monstrous iniquity in their 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\nis useless, 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 serving\nhim, glorifying him, honoring him, or offending him. We are, however,\ncontinually told that man is capable of merit and demerit in the sight\nof his God, whom he is ordered to love, serve, and worship. We are\nlikewise assured that it was man alone whom the Deity had in view in all\nhis works; that it is for him alone the universe was created; for him\nalone that the course of nature was so often deranged; and, in short, it\nwas with a view of being honored, cherished, and glorified by man that\nGod has revealed himself to us. According to the principles of the\nChristian religion, God does not cease, for a single instant, his\noccupations for man, this _worm of earth_, this _earthen vessel_, which\nhe has formed. Nay, more: man is sufficiently powerful to influence\nthe honor, the felicity, and the glory of his God; it rests with man to\nplease him or to irritate him, to deserve his favor or his hatred, to\nappease him or to kindle his wrath.\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 the\nreciprocal influence between God and man, and between man and God. Our\nown 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 beings,\nto whom it is pretended that God owes nothing, and who, we are assured,\nare unnecessary to him for his own felicity,--the human race, which is\nnothing in his eyes, becomes all at once the principal performer on the\nstage of nature. We find that mankind are necessary to support the glory\nof their Creator; we see them become the sole objects of his care; we\nbehold in them the power to gladden or afflict him; we see them meriting\nhis favor and provoking his wrath. According to these contradictory\nnotions concerning the God of the universe, the source of all felicity,\nis he not really the most wretched of beings? We behold him perpetually\nexposed to the insults of men, who offend him by their thoughts, their\nwords, their actions, and their neglect of duty. They incommode him,\nthey irritate him, by the capriciousnes of their minds, by their\nactions, their desires, and even by their ignorance. If we admit those\nChristian principles which suppose that the greater portion of the human\nrace excites the fury of the Eternal, and that very few of them live\nin a manner conformable to his views, will it not necessarily result\ntherefrom, that in the immense crowd of beings whom God has created\nfor his glory, only a very small number of them glorify and please\nhim; while all the rest are occupied in vexing him, exciting his wrath,\ntroubling his felicity, deranging the order that he loves, frustrating\nhis designs, and forcing him to change his immutable intentions?\n\nYou are, undoubtedly, surprised at the contradictions to be encountered\nat the very first step we take in examining this religion; and I take\nupon myself to predict that your embarrassment will increase as you\nproceed therein. If you coolly examine the ideas presented to us in\nthe revelation common both to Jews and Christians, and contained in the\nbooks which they tell us are _sacred_, you will find that the Deity who\nspeaks is always in contradiction with himself; that he becomes his own\ndestroyer, and is perpetually occupied in undoing what he has just done,\nand in repairing his own workmanship, to which, in the first instance,\nhe was incapable of giving that degree of perfection he wished it to\npossess. He is never satisfied with his own works, and cannot, in spite\nof his omnipotence, bring the human race to the point of perfection he\nintended. The books containing the revelation, on which Christianity is\nfounded, every where display to us a God of goodness in the commission\nof wickedness; an omnipotent God, whose projects unceasingly miscarry;\nan immutable God, changing his maxims and his conduct; an omniscient\nGod, continually deceived unawares; a resolute God, yet repenting of his\nmost important actions; a God of wisdom, whose arrangements never attain\nsuccess. He is a great God, who occupies himself with the most puerile\ntrifles; an all-sufficient God, yet subject to jealousy; a powerful God,\nyet suspicious, vindictive, and cruel; and a just God, yet permitting\nand prescribing the most atrocious iniquities. In a word, he is a\nperfect God, yet displaying at the same time such imperfections and\nvices that the most despicable of men would blush to resemble him.\n\nBehold, Madam, the God whom this religion orders you to adore _in spirit\nand in truth_. I reserve for another letter an analysis of the holy\nbooks 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 no\nstability attached to it, and can only be regarded as a long tissue of\nerrors and contradictions. I am, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER III. An Examination of the Holy Scriptures, of the Nature of the\nChristian Religion, and of the Proofs upon which Christianity is founded\n\nYou have seen, Madam, in my preceding letter, the incompatible and\ncontradictory ideas which this religion gives us of the Deity. You will\nhave seen that the revelation which is announced to us, instead of being\nthe offspring of his goodness and tenderness for the human race, is\nreally only a proof of injustice and partiality, of which a God who is\nequally just and good would be entirely incapable. Let us now examine\nwhether the ideas suggested to us by these books, containing the divine\noracles, are more rational, more consistent, or more conformable to the\ndivine perfections. Let us see whether the statements related in the\nBible, whether the commands prescribed to us in the name of God himself,\nare really worthy of God, and display to us the characters of infinite\nwisdom, 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 we\nmay use such an expression) witnesses of the formation of the universe.\nHe tells us that the Eternal, tired of his inaction, one fine day took\nit into his head to create a world that was necessary to his glory. To\neffect this, he forms matter out of nothing; a pure spirit produces a\nsubstance which has no affinity to himself; although this God fills all\nspace with his immensity, yet still he found room enough in it to admit\nthe universe, as well as all the material bodies contained therein.\n\nThese, at least, are the ideas which divines wish us to form respecting\nthe creation, if such a thing were possible as that of possessing a\nclear idea of a pure spirit producing matter. But this discussion is\nthrowing us into metaphysical researches, which I wish to avoid. It will\nbe sufficient to you that you may console yourself for not being able\nto comprehend it, seeing that the most profound thinkers, who talk about\nthe creation or the eduction of the world from nothing, have no ideas on\nthe subject more precise than those which you form to yourself. As soon,\nMadam, as you take the trouble to reflect thereon, you will find that\ndivines, instead of explaining things, have done nothing but invent\nwords, in order to render them dubious, and to confound all our natural\nconceptions.\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\nshall perceive 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 have\nstudied and contemplated nature.\n\nYou will find, for example, light created before the sun, although this\nstar is visibly the source of light which communicates itself to our\nglobe. You will find the evening and the morning established before the\nformation of this same sun, whose presence alone produces day, whose\nabsence produces night, and whose different aspects constitute morning\nand evening. You will there find that the moon is spoken of as a body\npossessing its own light, in a similar manner as the sun possesses it,\nalthough this planet is a dark body, and receives its light from the\nsun. These ignorant blunders are sufficient to show you that the Deity\nwho revealed himself to Moses was quite unacquainted with the nature of\nthose substances which he had created out of nothing, and that you at\npresent possess more information respecting them than was once possessed\nby the Creator of the world.\n\nI am not ignorant that our divines have an answer always ready to those\ndifficulties which would attack their divine science, and place their\nknowledge far below that of Galileo, Descartes, Newton, and even below\nthat of young people who have scarcely studied the first elements of\nnatural philosophy. They will tell us that God, in order to render\nhimself intelligible to the savage and ignorant Jews, spoke in\nconformity 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 God\nwho knows every thing, and can perform every thing, might by a single\nword have rectified the false notions of the people he wished to\nenlighten, and enabled them to know the nature of bodies more perfectly\nthan the most able men who have since appeared. If it be replied that\nrevelation is not intended to render men learned, but to make them\npious, I answer that revelation was not sent to establish false notions;\nthat it would be unworthy of God to borrow the language of falsehood and\nignorance; that the knowledge of nature, so far from being an injury to\npiety, is, by the avowal of divines, the most proper study to display\nthe greatness of God. They tell us that religion would be unmovable,\nwere it conformable to true knowledge; that we should have no objections\nto make to the recital of Moses, nor to the philosophy of the Holy\nScriptures, if we found nothing but what was continually confirmed by\nexperience, astronomy, and the demonstrations 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 that\nhe 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 the\nexamination of revelation, where we find in each page that God expresses\nhimself in a manner quite unworthy of the Deity. Could not an omnipotent\nGod, instead of degrading himself, instead of condescending to speak the\nlanguage of ignorance, so far enlighten them as to make them understand\na language more true, more noble, and more conformable to the ideas\nwhich are given us of the Deity? An experienced master by degrees\nenables his scholars to understand what he wishes to teach them, and\na God ought to be able to communicate to them immediately all the\nknowledge 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 he\ncreated him _in his own image_; but what was the image of God? How could\nman, who is at least partly material, represent a pure spirit, which\nexcludes all matter?\n\nHow could his imperfect mind be formed on the model of a mind possessing\nall perfection, like that which we suppose in the Creator of the\nuniverse? What resemblance, what proportion, what affinity could there\nbe between a finite mind united to a body, and the infinite spirit of\nthe Creator? These, doubtless, are great difficulties; hitherto it has\nbeen thought impossible to decide them; and they will probably for\na long time employ the minds of those who strive to understand\nthe incomprehensible meaning of a book which God provided for our\ninstruction.\n\nBut why did God create man? Because he wished to people the universe\nwith intelligent beings, who would render him homage, who should witness\nhis wonders, who should glorify him, who should meditate and contemplate\nhis works, and merit his favors by their submission to his laws.\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 which\nthe Bible portrays the Deity are always borrowed from man, or from a\nproud monarch; and we every where find that instead of having made man\nafter his own image, it is man that has always made God after the image\nof himself, that has conferred on him his own way of thinking, his own\nvirtues, 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? will\nhe execute his will? He has done nothing of the kind. Scarcely is he\ncreated when he becomes rebellious to the orders of his Sovereign; he\neats a forbidden fruit which God has placed in his way in order to tempt\nhim, and by this act draws the divine wrath not only on himself, but on\nall his posterity. Thus it is that he annihilates at one blow the great\nprojects of the Omnipotent, who had no sooner made man for his glory\nthan he becomes offended with that conduct which he ought to have\nforeseen.\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 the\nrace (who had not yet the power of sinning) to innumerable penalties,\nto cruel calamities, and to death! What do I say? To punishments which\ndeath itself shall not terminate! Thus God, who wished to be glorified,\nis not glorified; he seems to have created man only to offend him, that\nhe 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, or\nwho permits us to be tempted, do you behold a being of beneficence and\nsincerity? In a God who punishes the being he has tempted, or subjected\nto temptation, do you perceive any equity? In a God who extends his\nvengeance even to those who have not sinned, do you behold any shadow\nof justice? In a God who is irritated at what he knew must necessarily\nhappen, can you imagine any foresight? In the rigorous punishments by\nwhich this God is destined to avenge himself of his feeble creatures,\nboth in this world and the next, can you perceive the least appearance\nof goodness?\n\nIt is, however, this history, or rather this fable, on which is founded\nthe whole edifice of the Christian religion.\n\nIf the first man had not been disobedient, the human race had not\nbeen the 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 Son\nto 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,\nif this 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\nis doing quite enough to compare the different objects which the\nBible presents to us, to perceive their inutility, absurdities, and\ncontradictions. We there see, continually, a wise God conducting himself\nlike a madman. He defeats His own projects that he may afterwards repair\nthem, repents of what he has done, acts as if he had foreseen nothing,\nand is forced to permit proceedings which his omnipotence could not\nprevent. In the writings revealed by this God, he appears occupied only\nin blackening his own character, degrading himself, vilifying himself,\neven in the eyes of men whom he would excite to worship him and pay\nhim homage; overturning and confounding the minds of those whom he\nhad designed to enlighten. What has just been said might suffice to\nundeceive us with respect to a book which would pass better as being\nintended to destroy the idea of a Deity, than as one containing the\noracles dictated and revealed by him. Nothing but a heap of absurdities\ncould possibly result from principles so false and irrational;\nnevertheless, let us take another glance at the principal objects which\nthis divine work continually offers to our consideration. Let us pass on\nto the Deluge. The holy books tell us, that in spite of the will of\nthe Almighty, the whole human race, who had already been punished by\ninfirmities, accidents, and death, continued to give themselves up to\nthe most unaccountable depravity. God becomes irritated, and repents\nhaving created them. Doubtless he could not have foreseen this\ndepravity; yet, rather than change the wicked disposition of their\nhearts, which he holds in his own hands, he performs the most\nsurprising, the most impossible of miracles. He at once drowns all the\ninhabitants, with the exception of some favorites, whom he destines to\nre-people the earth with a chosen race, that will render themselves more\nagreeable to their God.\n\nBut does the Almighty succeed in this new project? The chosen race,\nsaved from 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 forgetting\nthe recent effects of celestial vengeance, seem intent only on provoking\nheaven by their wickedness. In order to provide a remedy, God chooses\nfor his favorite the idolater Abraham. To him he discovers himself; he\norders him to renounce the worship of his fathers, and embrace a new\nreligion. To guarantee this covenant, the Sovereign of nature prescribes\na melancholy, ridiculous, and whimsical ceremony, to the observance of\nwhich a God of wisdom attaches his favors. The posterity of this chosen\nman are consequently to enjoy, for everlasting, the greatest advantages;\nthey will always be the most partial objects of tenderness, with the\nAlmighty; they will be happier than all other nations, whom the Deity\nwill abandon to occupy himself only 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 misfortune\nthat had befallen them; but in order to free them again, he raised up to\nthem a liberator, a chief, who performed the most astonishing miracles.\nAt the voice of Moses all nature is confounded; God employs him to\ndeclare his will; yet he who could create and annihilate the world\ncould not subdue Pharaoh. The obstinacy of this prince defeats, in\nten successive trials, the divine omnipotence, of which Moses is the\ndepositary. After having vainly attempted to overcome a monarch whose\nheart God had been pleased to harden, God has recourse to the most\nordinary method of rescuing his people; he tells them to run off, after\nhaving first counselled them to rob the Egyptians. The fugitives are\npursued; but God, who protects these robbers, orders the sea to\nswallow up the miserable people who had the temerity to run after their\nproperty.\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 the\ngreatest miracles. These wonders, which are now extolled as convincing\nproofs of the divine mission of Moses, were by the confession of this\nsame Moses, who has himself transmitted us the accounts, incapable of\nconvincing the people who were witnesses of them, and never produced the\ngood effects which the Deity proposed to himself 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 Scriptures\nattribute a supernatural power. If, in the face of these facts, it be\npretended that these miracles are attested, we shall be compelled, at\nleast, to agree that, according to the Bible account, they have been\nentirely useless, that the Deity has been constantly baffled in all\nhis projects, and that he could never make of the Hebrews a people\nsubmissive 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, violence,\ntreason, murder, and usurpation. In a word, he permits them to do\nany thing to obtain his ends. He is continually sending them chiefs,\nprophets, and wonderful men, who try in vain to bring them to their\nduty. The whole history of the Old Testament displays nothing but the\nvain efforts of God to vanquish the obstinacy of his people. To succeed\nin this, he employs kindnesses, miracles, and severity. Sometimes\nhe delivers up to them whole nations, to be hated, pillaged, and\nexterminated; at other times he permits these same nations to exercise\nover his favorite people the greatest of cruelties. He delivers them\ninto the hands of their enemies, who are likewise the enemies of God\nhimself. Idolatrous nations become masters of the Jews, who are left to\nfeel the insults, the contempt, and the most unheard-of severities, and\nare sometimes compelled to sacrifice to idols, and to violate the law of\ntheir God. The race of Abraham becomes the prey of impious nations. The\nAssyrians, Persians, Greeks, and Romans make them successively undergo\nthe most cruel treatment and suffer the most bloody outrages, and God\neven permits his temple to be polluted in order to punish the Jews.\n\nTo terminate, at length, the troubles of his cherished people, the pure\nSpirit that created the universe sends his own Son. It is said that he\nhad already been announced by his prophets, though this was certainly\ndone in a manner admirably adapted to prevent his being known on his\narrival. This Son of God becomes a man through his kindness for the\nJews, whom he came to liberate, to enlighten, and to render the most\nhappy of mortals. Being clothed with divine omnipotence, he performs the\nmost astonishing miracles, which do not, however, convince the Jews.\nHe can do every thing but convert them. Instead of converting and\nliberating the Jews, he is himself compelled, notwithstanding all his\nmiracles, to undergo the most infamous of punishments, and to terminate\nhis life like a common malefactor. God is condemned to death by the\npeople he came to save. The Eternal hardened and blinded those among\nwhom he sent his own Son; he did not foresee that this Son would be\nrejected. What do I say? He managed matters in such a way as not to\nbe recognized, and took such steps that his favorite people derived no\nbenefit from the coming of the Messiah. In a word, the Deity seems to\nhave taken the greatest care that his projects, so favorable to the\nJews, should be nullified and rendered unprofitable!\n\nWhen we expostulate against a conduct so strange and so unworthy of the\nDeity, we are told it was necessary for every thing to take place in\nsuch a manner, for the accomplishment of prophecies which had announced\nthat the Messiah should be disowned, rejected, and put to death. But why\ndid God, who knows all, and who foresaw the fate of his dear Son, form\nthe project of sending him among the Jews, to whom he must have known\nthat his mission would be useless? Would it not have been easier neither\nto announce him nor send him? Would it not have been more conformable to\ndivine omnipotence to spare himself the trouble of so many miracles,\nso many prophecies, so much useless labor, so much wrath, and' so many\nsufferings to his own Son, by giving at once to the human race that\ndegree of perfection he intended for them?\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 incapable\nof offending God unless God either permitted it or consented to it. I\nshall not examine how it is possible for God to have a Son, who, being\nas much a God as himself, can be subject to death. I reply, also, that\nit is impossible to perceive such a grave fault and sin in taking an\napple, and that we can find very little proportion between the crime\ncommitted against the Deity by eating an apple and his Son's death.\n\nI know well enough I shall be told that these are all mysteries; but I,\nin my turn, shall reply, that mysteries are imposing words, imagined by\nmen who know not how to get themselves out of the labyrinth into which\ntheir false reasonings and senseless principles have 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 prophecies\ncontained in the Old Testament. In this case, I demand why the Jews have\ndisowned this wonderful man, this God whom God sent to them. They answer\nme, that the incredulity of the Jews was likewise predicted, and that\ndivers inspired writers had announced the death of the Son of God. To\nwhich I reply, that a sensible God ought not to have sent him under such\ncircumstances, that an omnipotent God ought to have adopted measures\nmore efficacious and certain to bring his people into the way in which\nhe wished them to go. If he wished not to convert and liberate the Jews,\nit was quite useless to send his Son among them, and thereby expose him\nto a death that was both certain and 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 length\nto break the treaty, which he had, however, assured them should last\nforever. It is pretended that God had determined to reject the Hebrew\nnation, in order to adopt the Gentiles, whom he had hated and despised\nnearly four thousand years. I reply, that this discourse is very little\nconformable to the ideas we ought to have of a God who _changes not_,\nwhose mercy is _infinite_, and whose goodness is _inexhaustible_. I\nshall tell them, that in this case the Messiah announced by the Jewish\nprophets was destined for the Jews, and that he ought to have been their\nliberator, instead of destroying their worship and their religion. If\nit be possible to unravel any thing in these obscure, enigmatical, and\nsymbolical oracles of the prophets of Judea, as we find them in the\nBible,--if there be any means of guessing the meaning of the obscure\nriddles, which have been decorated with the pompous name of prophecies,\nwe shall perceive that the inspired writers, when they are in a\ngood humor, always promised the Jews a man that will redress their\ngrievances, restore the kingdom of Judah, and not one that should\ndestroy the religion of Moses. If it were for the Gentiles that the\nMessiah should come, he is no longer the Messiah promised to the Jews\nand announced by their prophets. If Jesus be the Messiah of the Jews, he\ncould not be the destroyer of their nation.\n\nShould I be told that Jesus himself declared that he came to fulfil the\nlaw of Moses, and not to abolish it, I ask why Christians do not observe\nthe 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 the\nJews, had at length repented of his injustice towards the Gentiles, it\nwas to them that he ought to have sent his Son. By acting in this way\nhe would at least have saved his old friends from a frightful _deicide_,\nwhich he forced them to commit, because they were not able to recognize\nthe God he sent amongst them. Besides, the Jews were very pardonable in\nnot acknowledging their expected Messiah in an artisan of Galilee, who\nwas destitute of all the characteristics which the prophets had related,\nand during whose lifetime his fellow-citizens were neither liberated nor\nhappy.\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 he\naccomplished his own resurrection. It might be so believed; yet he has\nvisibly failed in that miracle for which alone he came upon earth. He\nwas never able either to persuade or to convert the Jews, who witnessed\nall the daily wonders that he performed. Notwithstanding those\nprodigies, they placed him ignominiously on the cross. In spite of his\ndivine power, he was incapable of escaping punishment. He wished to die,\nto render the Jews culpable, and to have the pleasure of rising again\nthe third day, in order to confound the ingratitude and obstinacy of his\nfellow-citizens. What is the result? Did his fellow-citizens concede to\nthis great miracle, and have they at length acknowledged him? Far from\nit; they never saw him. The Son of God, who arose from the dead in\nsecrecy, showed himself only to his adherents. They alone pretend\nto have conversed with him; they alone have furnished us with the\nparticulars of his life and miracles; and yet by such suspicious\ntestimony they wish to convince us of the divinity of his mission\neighteen hundred years after the event, although he could not convince\nhis 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 of\nthe 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 this\ndivine religion.\n\nIn all this I perceive nothing like a miracle. I see nothing but what is\nconformable to the ordinary progress of the human mind. An enthusiast,\na dexterous impostor, a crafty juggler; can easily find adherents in\na stupid, ignorant, and superstitious populace. These followers,\ncaptivated by counsels, or seduced by promises, consent to quit a\npainful and laborious life, to follow a man who gives them to understand\nthat he will make them _fishers of men_; that is to say, he will enable\nthem to subsist by his cunning tricks, at the expense of the multitude\nwho are always credulous. The juggler, with the assistance of\nhis remedies, can perform cures which seem miraculous to ignorant\nspectators. These simple creatures immediately regard him as a\nsupernatural 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, and\nfinds out the secret of exciting their enthusiasm. To accomplish this\npoint, our empiric becomes a preacher; he makes use of riddles, obscure\nsentences, and parables to the multitude, that always admire what they\ndo not understand.\n\nTo render himself more agreeable to the people, he declaims among poor,\nignorant, foolish men, against the rich, the great, the learned; but\nabove all, against the _priests_, who in all ages have been _avaricious,\nimperious, uncharitable, and burdensome_ to the people. If these\ndiscourses be eagerly received among the vulgar, who are always morose,\nenvious, and jealous, they displease all those who see themselves the\nobjects of the 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 him\nand have their revenge. By dint of imposture, he outwits them; yet,\nin consequence of his miracles and illusions, he at length discovers\nhimself. He is then seized and punished, and none of his adherents\nabide by him, except a few idiots, that nothing can undeceive; none\nbut partisans, accustomed to lead with him a life of idleness; none but\ndexterous knaves, who wish to continue their impositions on the\npublic, by deceptions similar to those of their old master, by obscure,\nunconnected, confused, and fanatical harangues, and by declamations\nagainst _magistrates and priests_. These, who have the power in their\nown hands, finish by persecuting them, imprisoning them, flogging them,\nchastising them, and putting them to death. Poor wretches, habituated\nto poverty, undergo all these sufferings with a fortitude which we\nfrequently meet with in malefactors. In some we find their courage\nfortified by the zeal of fanaticism. This fortitude surprises, agitates,\nexcites pity, and irritates the spectators against those who torment\nmen whose constancy makes them looked upon as being innocent, who, it\nis supposed, may possibly be right, and for whom compassion likewise\ninterests itself. It is thus that enthusiasm is propagated, and that\npersecution always augments the number of the partisans of those who are\npersecuted.\n\nI shall leave to you, Madam, the trouble of applying the history of our\njuggler, and his adherents, to that of the founder, the apostles, and\nthe martyrs of the Christian religion.\n\nWith whatever art they have written the life of Jesus Christ, which\nwe hold only from his apostles, or their disciples, it furnishes a\nsufficiency of materials on which to found our conjectures. I shall only\nobserve to you, that the Jewish nation was remarkable for its credulity;\nthat the companions of Jesus were chosen from among the dregs of the\npeople; that Jesus always gave a preference to the populace, with whom\nhe wished, undoubtedly, to form a rampart against the _priests_; and\nthat, at last, Jesus was seized immediately after the most splendid of\nhis miracles. We see him put to death immediately after the resurrection\nof Lazarus, which, even according to the gospel account, bears the most\nevident characters of fraud, which are visible to every one who examines\nit 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, who\nknew how to make the best of the tricks of their old master, to whom\nthey have become such able successors. In this way did they establish a\nreligion which enabled them to live at the people's expense, and which\nstill maintains in abundance those we pay, at such a high rate, for\ntransmitting from father to son the fables, visions, and wonders which\nwere born and nursed in Judea. The propagation of the Christian faith,\nand the constancy of their martyrs, have nothing surprising in them. The\npeople flock after all those that show them wonders, and receive without\nreasoning on it every thing that is told them. They transmit to their\nchildren the tales they have heard related, and by degrees these\nopinions are adopted by kings, by the great, and even by the learned.\n\nAs for the martyrs, their constancy has nothing supernatural in it. The\nfirst Christians, as well as all new sectaries, were treated, by the\nJews and pagans, as disturbers of the public peace. They were already\nsufficiently intoxicated with the fanaticism with which their religion\ninspired them, and were persuaded that God held himself in readiness to\ncrown them, and to receive them into his eternal dwelling. In a word,\nseeing the heavens opened, and being convinced that the end of the\nworld was approaching, it is not surprising that they had courage to\nset punishment at defiance, to endure it with constancy, and to despise\ndeath. To these motives, founded on their religious opinions, many\nothers were added, which are always of such a nature as to operate\nstrongly upon the minds of men. Those who, as Christians, were\nimprisoned and ill-treated on account of their faith, were visited,\nconsoled, encouraged, honored, and loaded with kindnesses by their\nbrethren, who took care of and succored them during their detention, and\nwho almost adored them after their death. Those, on the other hand, who\ndisplayed weakness, were despised and detested, and when they gave way\nto repentance, they were compelled to undergo a rigorous penitence,\nwhich lasted as long as they lived. Thus were the most powerful motives\nunited to inspire the martyrs with courage; and this courage has nothing\nmore supernatural about it than that which determines us daily to\nencounter the most perilous dangers, through the fear of dishonoring\nourselves in the eyes of our fellow-citizens. Cowardice would expose us\nto infamy all the rest of our days. There is nothing miraculous in the\nconstancy of a man to whom an offer is made, on the one hand, of eternal\nhappiness and the highest honors, and who, on the other hand, sees\nhimself menaced with hatred, contempt, and the most lasting regret.\n\nYou perceive, then, Madam, that nothing can be easier than to overthrow\nthe proofs by which Christian doctors establish the revelation which\nthey pretend is so well authenticated. Miracles, martyrs, and prophecies\nprove nothing.\n\nWere all the wonders true that are related in the Old and New Testament,\nthey would afford no proof in favor of divine omnipotence, but, on\nthe contrary, would prove the inability under which the Deity has\ncontinually labored, of convincing mankind of the truths he wished to\nannounce to them. On the other hand, supposing these miracles to have\nproduced all the effects which the Deity had a right to expect from\nthem, 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 effects\nwhich 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 intended\nto display his prescience, and to instruct his people with regard to\nfuture events. There does not exist in the Holy Scriptures a single\nprophecy sufficiently precise to be literally applied to Jesus Christ.\nTo convince yourself of this truth, ask the most learned of our doctors\nwhich are the formal prophecies wherein they have the happiness to\ndiscover the Messiah. You will then perceive that it is only by the aid\nof forced explanations, figures, parables, and mystical interpretations,\nby which they are enabled to bring forward any thing sensible and\napplicable to the _god-made-man_ whom they tell us to adore. It would\nseem as if the Deity had made predictions only that we might understand\nnothing about them.\n\nIn these equivocal oracles, whose meaning it is impossible to penetrate,\nwe find nothing but the language of intoxication, fanaticism, and\ndelirium. When we fancy we have found something intelligible, it is\neasy to perceive that the prophets intended to speak of events that took\nplace in their own age, or of personages who had preceded them. It is\nthus that our doctors apply gratuitously to Christ prophecies or rather\nnarratives of what happened respecting David, Solomon, Cyrus, &c.\n\nWe imagine we see the chastisement of the Jewish people announced\nin recitals 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 themselves\nimagine they have seen. Jesus himself has not been more happy in his\npredictions than his predecessors. In the gospel he announces to his\ndisciples in the most formal manner the destruction of the world and the\nlast judgment, as events that were at hand, and which must take place\nbefore the existing generation had passed away. Yet the world still\nendures, and appears in no danger of finishing. It is true, our doctors\npretend that, in the prediction of Jesus Christ, he spoke of the ruin of\nJerusalem by Vespasian and Titus; but none but those who have not read\nthe gospel would submit to such a change, or satisfy themselves with\nsuch an evasion. Besides, in adopting it we must confess at least that\nthe Son of God himself was unable to prophesy with greater precision\nthan 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\nonly to conceal himself. He does not speak but to be misunderstood. He\nannounces his oracles in such a way only that we can neither comprehend\nthem nor make any application of them. He performs miracles only to\nmake unbelievers. He manifests himself to mankind only to stupefy their\njudgment and bewilder the reason he has bestowed on them. The Bible\ncontinually represents God to us as a seducer, an enticer, a suspicious\ntyrant, who knows not what kind of conduct to observe with respect to\nhis subjects; who amuses himself by laying snares for his creatures, and\nwho tries them that he may have the pleasure of inflicting a punishment\nfor yielding to his temptations. This God is occupied only in building\nto destroy, in demolishing to rebuild. Like a child disgusted with its\nplaythings, he is continually undoing what he has done, and breaking\nwhat was the object of his desires. We find no foresight, no constancy,\nno consistency in his conduct; no connection, no clearness in his\ndiscourses. When he performs any thing, he sometimes approves what\nhe has done, and at other times repents of it. He irritates and vexes\nhimself with what he has permitted to be done, and, in spite of his\ninfinite power, he suffers man to offend him, and consents to let Satan,\nhis creature, derange all his projects. In a word, the revelations\nof the Christians and Jews seem to have been imagined only to render\nuncertain and to annihilate the qualities attributed to the Deity, and\nwhich are declared to constitute his essence. The whole Scripture, the\nentire system of the Christian religion, appears to be founded only\non the incapability of God, who was unable to render the human race as\nwise, as 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 human\nrace, in spite of the continued efforts of the Deity, continue to offend\nhim, to frustrate his designs, resist his will, and to persevere in\ntheir 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 whom\nhe had made and sworn an eternal covenant.\n\nTime must prove whether God be more constant and faithful in fulfilling\nhis engagements with the Christians than he has been to fulfil those\nhe made with Abraham and his posterity. I confess, Madam, that his\npast conduct alarms me as to what he may finally perform. If he himself\nacknowledged by the mouth of Ezekiel that the laws he had given to the\nJews _were not good_, he may very possibly, some day or other, find\nfault 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 granted\nto his church. The inquietudes which they evince, the efforts which they\nmake to hinder the civilization of the world, the persecutions which\nthey raise against all those who contradict them, seem to prove that\nthey mistrust the promises of Jesus Christ, and that they are not\ncertainly convinced of the eternal durability of a religion which\ndoes not appear to them divine, but because it gives them the right to\ncommand like gods over their fellow-citizens. They would undoubtedly\nconsider the destruction of their empire a very grievous thing; but yet\nif the sovereigns of the earth and their people should once grow weary\nof the sacerdotal yoke, we may be sure the Sovereign of heaven would not\nrequire a longer time to become equally disgusted.\n\nHowever this may be, Madam, I venture to hope the perusal of this letter\nwill fully undeceive you of a blind veneration for books which are\ncalled _divine_, although they appear as if invented to degrade and\ndestroy the God who is asserted to be their author. My first letter, I\nfeel confident, enabled you to perceive that the dogmas established by\nthese same books, or subsequently fabricated to justify the ideas thus\ngiven of God, are not less contrary to all notions of a Deity infinitely\nperfect. A system which in the outset is based upon false principles can\nnever become any thing else than a mass of falsehoods. I am, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER IV. Of the fundamental dogmas of the Christian Religion\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\nhear, but 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 should\nbe able to do so serves only to confound the simplest notions, to throw\nthem into the greatest incertitude, and create eternal disputations. If\nit was the project of the Divinity, it would, without doubt, be attended\nwith perfect success. The teachers of Christianity never agree on the\nmanner in which they are to understand the truths that God has given\nhimself the trouble to reveal; all the efforts which they have employed\nto this time have not yet been capable of making any thing clear, and\nthe dogmas which they have successively invented have been insufficient\nto justify to the understanding of one man of good sense the conduct of\nah infinitely perfect Being.\n\nHence, many among them, perceiving the inconveniences which would result\nfrom the reading of the holy books, have carefully kept them out of the\nhands of the vulgar and illiterate; for they plainly foresaw that\nif they were read by such they would necessarily bring on themselves\nreproach, since it would never fail that every honest man of good sense\nwould discover in those books only a crowd of absurdities. Thus the\noracles of God are not even made for those for whom they are addressed;\nit is requisite to be initiated in the mysteries of a priesthood, to\nhave the privilege of discerning in the holy writings the light which\nthe Divinity destined to all his dear children. But are the theologians\nthemselves able to make plain the difficulties which the sacred books\npresent in every page? By meditating on the mysteries which they\ncontain, have they given us ideas more plain of the intentions of the\nDivinity? No; without doubt they explain one mystery by citing another;\nthey scatter In this case, why did it not prevent that fall and its\nconsequences? 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 passing\nas the author of sin, to save him the ridicule of being 'the cause or\nthe accomplice of offences which he did against himself, the theologians\nhave imagined a being subordinate to the divine power. It is the\nsecondary being they make the author of all the evil which is committed\nin the universe. In the impossibility of reconciling the continual\ndisorders of which the world is the theatre with the purposes of a Deity\nreplete with goodness, the Creator and Preserver of the universe, who\ndelights in order, and who seeks only the happiness of his creatures,\nthey have trumped up a destructive genius, imbued with wickedness, who\nconspires to render men miserable, and to overthrow the beneficent views\nof the Eternal.. This bad and perverse being they call Satan, the Devil,\nthe Evil One; and we see him play a great game in all the religions of\nthe world, the founders of which have found in the impotence of Deity\nthe sources of both good and evil. By the aid of this imaginary being\nthey have been enabled to resolve all their difficulties; yet they could\nnot foresee that this invention, which went to annihilate or abridge the\npower of Deity, was a system filled with palpable contradictions,\nand that if the Devil were really the author of sin, it be he, in all\njustice, who ought to undergo 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 him\nat one word, or, at least, God could change his disposition if injurious\nto us, and contrary to the projects of a beneficent Providence. Since,\nthen, the Devil does exist, and does such marvellous things as are\nattributed to him, we are compelled to conclude that the Divinity has\nfound it good that he should exist and agitate, as he does, all his\nworks by a perpetual interruption and perversion 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 Divinity;\nand you know very well that according to the notions of the Christian\nreligion, the Devil has more adherents than God himself; they are\nalways stirring their fellow-creatures up to revolt against God; without\nceasing, in despite of God, Satan leads them into perdition, except one\nman only, who refused to follow him, and who found grace in the eyes\nof the Lord. You are not ignorant that the millions that follow the\nstandard of Beelzebub are to be plunged with him into eternal misery.\n\nBut then has Satan himself incurred the disgrace of the All-powerful? By\nwhat forfeit has he merited becoming the eternal object of the anger of\nthat God who created him? The Christian religion will explain all. It\ninforms us that the Devil was in his origin an angel; that is to say,\na pure spirit, full of perfections, created by the Divinity to occupy\na distinguishing situation in the celestial court, destined, like the\nother ministers of the Eternal, to receive his orders, and to enjoy\nperpetual blessedness. But he lost himself through ambition; his pride\nblinded him, and he dared to revolt against his Creator; he engaged\nother spirits, as pure as himself, in the same senseless enterprise; in\nconsequence of his rashness, he was hurled headlong out of heaven, his\nmiserable adherents were involved in his fall, and, having been hardened\nby the divine pleasure in their foolish dispositions, they have no other\noccupation assigned them in the universe than to tempt mankind, and\nendeavor to augment the number of the enemies of God, and the victims of\nhis 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 should\nentertain a great desire that man might sin, since he would thereby have\nan opportunity of providing the means of making him sinful? In effect,\nit was the Devil who, in process of time, covered with the skin of a\nserpent, solicited the mother of the human race to disobey God, and\ninvolve her husband in her rebellion. But the difficulty is not removed\nby these inventions. If Satan, in the time he was an angel, lived in\ninnocence, and merited the good will of his Maker, how came God to\nsuffer him to entertain ideas of pride, ambition, and rebellion? How\ncame this angel of light so blind as not to see the folly of such an\nenterprise? Did he not know that his Creator was all-powerful? Who was\nit that tempted Satan? What reason had the Divinity for selecting him to\nbe the object of his fury, the destroyer of his projects, the enemy of\nhis power? If pride be a sin, if the idea itself of rebellion is the\ngreatest of crimes, _sin was, then, anterior to sin_, and Lucifer\noffended God, even in his state of purity; for, in fine, a being pure,\ninnocent, agreeable to his God, who had all the perfections of which a\ncreature could be susceptible, ought to be exempt from ambition, pride,\nand folly. We ought, also, to say as much for our first parent, who,\nnotwithstanding his wisdom, his innocence, and the knowledge infused\ninto him by God himself, could not prevent himself from falling into the\ntemptation 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 both\nangels and men to give them an opportunity of sinning.\n\nIt is easy to perceive the absurdity of this system, to save which\nthe theologians 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 providence.\nThe system of truth supposes _the free will_ of man--that he is his own\nmaster, capable of doing good or ill, and of directing his own plans. At\nthe words _free will_, I already perceive, Madam, that you tremble, and\ndoubtless anticipate a metaphysical dissertation. Rest assured of the\ncontrary; for I flatter myself that the question will be simplified and\nrendered clear, I shall not merely say for you, but for all your sex who\nare not resolved to be wilfully blind.\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 of\norder, every thing performed by his creatures would necessarily conduce\nto the maintenance of this order, because otherwise the divine will\nwould fail to have its effect If God has plans, they must of necessity\nbe always executed; if man can afflict his God, man is the master of\nthis God's happiness, and the league he has formed with the Devil is\npotent enough to thwart the plans of the Divinity. In a word, if man is\nfree 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 which\nGod places man in a situation where he may merit the heavenly bounty;\nbut, on the other hand, this liberty likewise exposes him to encounter\nGod's hatred, to offend him, and to be overwhelmed by infinite\nsufferings. From this I conclude that this liberty is _not_ a benefit,\nand that it evidently is inconsistent with divine goodness. This\ngoodness would be more real if men had always sufficient resolution to\ndo what is pleasing to God, conformably to order, and conducive to the\nhappiness of their fellow-creatures. If men, in virtue of their liberty,\ndo things contrary to the will of God, God, who is supposed to have the\nprescience of foreseeing all, ought to have taken measures to prevent\nmen from abusing their liberty; if he foresaw they would sin, he ought\nto have given them the means of avoiding it; if he could not prevent\nthem from doing ill, he has consented to the ill they have done; if he\nhas consented, he should not be offended; if he is offended, or if\nhe punish them for the evil they have done with his permission, he is\nunjust and cruel; if he suffer them to rush on to their destruction, he\nis bound afterwards to take them to himself; and he cannot with reason\nfind fault with them for the abuse of their liberty, in being deceived\nor seduced by the objects which he himself had placed in their way to\nseduce them, to tempt them, and to determine their wills to do evil.*\n\n     * See what Bayle says, Diet. Crit., art. Origene, Rem. E.t\n     art. Pauliciens, Rem. E., F., M., and torn. iii. of the\n     Reponses aux Questions 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\nof satisfying 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 conduct\nso as to avoid the evils they might be assailed with? Would it not show\nin him the height of madness were he to punish them for the evil which\nhe had done, and the chagrin which they occasioned him? Would it not be\nto himself that we should ascribe the sottishness and wickedness of his\nchildren?\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 most\ndangerous, since it puts man in the condition of doing evil that is\ntruly frightful. We may thence conclude that this system, far from\njustifying God, makes him capable of malice, imprudence, and injustice.\nBut this is to overturn all our ideas of a being perfectly, nay,\ninfinitely wise and good, consenting to punish his creatures for sins\nwhich he gave them the power of committing, or, which is the same,\nsuffering the Devil to inspire them with evil. All the subtilties of\ntheology have really only a tendency to destroy the very notions itself\ninculcates concerning the Divinity. This theology is evidently the tub\nof the Danaides.\n\nIt is a fact, however, that our theologians have imagined expedients to\nsupport their ruinous suppositions. You have often heard mention made\nof _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 contests\nare attended with consequences very dangerous to society. But let not\nthis surprise you; these false and obscure principles have even among\nthe theologians produced dissensions; and their quarrels would be\nindifferent if they did not attach more importance to them than they\nreally 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 are\nsupposed to be made agreeable to God, and meet for eternal happiness.\nBut then an infinite number of others are destined to perdition,\nand receive not the grace necessary to eternal salvation. These\ncontradictory and opposite propositions make it pretty evident that the\nsystem is absurd. It makes God, a being infinitely perfect and good, a\npartial tyrant, who has created a vast number of human beings to be the\nsport of his caprice and the victims of his vengeance. It supposes that\nGod will punish his creatures for not having received that grace which\nhe did not deign to give them; it presents this God to us under traits\nso revolting that the theologians are forced to avow that the whole is a\nprofound mystery, into which the human mind cannot penetrate. But if man\nis not made to lift his inquisitive eye on this frightful mystery, that\nis to say, on this astonishing absurdity, which our teachers have\nidly endeavored to square to their views of Deity, or to reconcile the\natrocious injustice of their God with his infinite goodness, by what\nright do they wish us to adore this mystery which they would compel us\nto believe, and to subscribe to an opinion that saps the divine goodness\nto its very foundation?\n\nHow do they reason upon a dogma, and quarrel with acrimony about a\nsystem of which even themselves can comprehend nothing?\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 the\nname of _mysteries_ to what they comprehend no better than ourselves.\n\nAll the religions in the world are founded upon predestination, and all\nthe pretended revelations among men, as has been already pointed out\nto you, inculcate this odious dogma, which makes Providence an unjust\nmother-in-law, who shows a blind preference for some of her children to\nthe prejudice of all the others. They make God a tyrant, who punishes\nthe inevitable faults to which he has impelled them, or into which\nhe has allowed them to be seduced. This dogma, which served as the\nfoundation of Paganism, is now the grand pivot of the Christian\nreligion, whose God should excite no less hatred than the most\nwicked divinities 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 imagination,\nand to lead some to indulge in dangerous follies?\n\nThe dogma of another life serves also to exculpate the Deity from these\napparent injustices or aberrations, with which he might naturally be\naccused. It is pretended that it has pleased him to distinguish\nhis friends on earth, seeing he has amply provided for their future\nhappiness in an abode prepared for their souls. But, as I believe I have\nalready hinted, these proofs that God makes some good, and leaves others\nwicked, either evince injustice on his part, at least temporary, or they\ncontradict his omnipotence. If God can do all things, if he is privy to\nall the thoughts and actions of men, what need has he of any proofs? If\nhe has resolved to give them grace necessary to save them, has he not\nassured them they will not perish? If he is unjust and cruel, this\nGod is not immutable, and belies his character; at least for a time he\nderogates from the perfections which we should expect to find in him.\nWhat would you think of a king, who, during a particular time, would\ndiscover to his favorites traits the most frightful, in order that they\nmight incur his disgrace, and who should afterwards insist on their\nbelieving him a very good and amiable man, to obtain his favor again?\nWould not such a prince be pronounced wicked, fanciful, and tyrannical?\nNevertheless, this supposed prince might be pardoned by some, if for his\nown interest, and the better to assure himself of the attachment of his\nfriends, he might give them some smiles of his favor. It is not so with\nGod, who knows all, who can do all, who has nothing to fear from the\ndispositions of his creatures. From all these reasonings, we may see\nthat the Deity, whom the priests have conjured up, plays a great game,\nvery ridiculous, 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, which\nprofesses to justify God, do we not see it make him a despot and tyrant\nmore hateful than any of his creatures? I am, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER V. Of the Immortality of the Soul, and of the Dogma of another\nLife\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 this\nlife, for the purpose of satisfying himself whether they are worthy\nof his love or his hatred, will bestow the recompenses or inflict the\nchastisements which they deserved. This dogma, which is one of the\ncapital points of the Christian religion, is founded on a great many\nhypotheses or suppositions, which we have already glanced at, and which\nwe have shown to be absurd and incompatible with the notions which the\nsame religion gives us of the Deity. In effect, it supposes us capable\nof offending or pleasing the Author of Nature, of influencing his\nhumor, or exciting his passions; afflicting, tormenting, resisting, and\nthwarting the plans of Deity. It supposes, moreover, the free-will\nof man--a system which we have seen incompatible with the goodness,\njustice, and omnipotence of the Deity. It supposes, further, that God\nhas occasion of proving his creatures, and making them, if I may so\nspeak, pass a novitiate to know what they are worth when he shall\nsquare accounts with them. It supposes in God, who has created men for\nhappiness only, the inability to put, by one grand effort, all men in\nthe road, whence they may infallibly arrive at permanent felicity. It\nsupposes that man will survive himself, or that the same being, after\ndeath, will continue to think, to feel, and act as he did in this life.\nIn a word, it supposes the immortality of the soul--an opinion unknown\nto the Jewish lawgiver, who is totally silent on this topic to the\npeople to whom God had manifested himself; an opinion which even in the\ntime of Jesus Christ one sect at Jerusalem admitted, while another sect\nrejected; an opinion about which the Messiah, who came to instruct them,\ndeigned to fix the ideas of those who might deceive themselves in this\nrespect; an opinion which appears to have been engendered in Egypt, or\nin India, anterior to the Jewish religion, but which was unknown among\nthe Hebrews till they took occasion to instruct themselves in the Pagan\nphilosophy of the 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 common\nsense. Thus, without going back to the inventors of this inconceivable\ndogma, let us examine dispassionately what this opinion really is; let\nus endeavor to penetrate to the principles on which it is supported; let\nus adopt it, if we shall find it an idea conformable to reason; let us\nreject it, if it shall appear destitute of proof, and at variance with\ncommon sense, even though it had been received as an established truth\nin all antiquity, though it may have been adopted by many millions of\nmankind.\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 which\nwe cannot form an idea, they tell us it is a spirit. In general, it\nis 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 explain\nthe union of the soul with the body. In fine, in the impossibility of\novercoming the insurmountable barriers which oppose them, the priests\nhave made man twofold, by supposing that he contains something distinct\nfrom himself; they have cut through all difficulties by saying that this\nunion is a great mystery, which man cannot understand; and they have\neverlasting recourse to the omnipotence of God, to his supreme will,\nto the miracles which he has always wrought; and those last are\nnever-failing, final resources, which the theologians reserve for every\ncase wherein they can find no other mode of escaping gracefully from the\nargument of their adversaries.\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 immaterial\nsubstance, of which no living being can form an idea; a spirit, that\nis to say, a being totally different from any thing we know. All the\ntheological verbiage ends here, by telling us, in a round of pompous\nterms,--fooleries that impose on the ignorant,--that we do not know what\nessence the soul is of; but we call it a spirit because of its nature,\nand because we feel ourselves agitated by some unknown agent; we cannot\ncomprehend the mechanism of the soul; yet can we feel ourselves moved,\nas it were, by an effect of the power of God, whose essence is far\nremoved from ours, and more concealed from us than the human soul\nitself. By the aid of this language, from which you cannot possibly\nlearn any thing, you will be as wise, Madam, as all the theologians in\nthe 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 are\ninsufficient 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 already\nhave of ourselves. These notions should be at least the most simple and\nthe most exact, if we consult our nature, experience, and reason. They\nprove that man knows nothing but by his material sensible organs, that\nhe sees only by his eyes, that he feels by his touch, that he hears by\nhis ears; and that when either of these organs is actually deranged,\nor has been previously wanting, or imperfect, man can have none of the\nideas that organ is capable of furnishing him with,--neither thoughts,\nmemory, reflection, judgment, desire, nor will. Experience shows us that\ncorporeal and material beings are alone capable of being moved and acted\nupon, and that without those organs we have enumerated the soul thinks\nnot, feels not, wills not, nor is moved. Every thing shows us that the\nsoul undergoes always the same vicissitudes as the body; it grows to\nmaturity, gains strength, becomes weak, and puts on old age, like the\nbody; in fine, every thing we can understand of it goes to prove that it\nperishes with the body. It is indeed folly to pretend that man will feel\nwhen he has no organs appropriate for that sentiment; that he will see\nand hear without eyes or ears; that he will have ideas without having\nsenses to receive impressions from physical objects, or to give rise to\nperceptions in his understanding; in fine, that he will enjoy or suffer\nwhen he has no 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\nis destroyed. 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 the\nspring or a pinion be broken. Cease, Eugenia, cease to torment yourself\nabout the fate which shall attend you when death will have separated you\nfrom all that is dear on earth. After the dissolution of this life, the\nsoul shall cease to exist; those devouring flames with which you have\nbeen threatened by the priests will have no effect upon the soul, which\ncan neither be susceptible then of pleasures nor pains, of agreeable or\nsorrowful ideas, 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_.\n\nThis system supposes that the particles of the body which have been\nscattered at death will be collected at the last day, to be replaced\nin their primitive condition. But that this strange phenomenon may take\nplace, it is necessary that the particles of our destroyed bodies,\nof which some have been converted into earth, others have passed into\nplants, others into animals, some of one species, others of another,\neven of our own; it is requisite, I say, that these particles, of which\nsome have been mixed with the waters of the deep, others have been\ncarried on the wings of the wind, and which have successively belonged\nto many different men, should be reunited to reproduce the individual to\nwhom they formerly belonged. If you cannot get over this impossibility,\nthe theologians will explain it to you by saying, very briefly, \"Ah! it\nis a profound mystery, which we cannot comprehend.\" They will inform you\nthat the resurrection is a miracle, a supernatural effect, which is\nto result from the divine power. It is thus they overcome all the\ndifficulties which 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 souls\nand bodies of those who have adopted their reveries; they will aver\nthat you cannot refuse to believe them upon their mere word without\nencountering the eternal indignation of a God of pity; and they will\nattempt to alarm your fancy by frightful delineations of the cruel\ntorments which a God of goodness has prepared for the greater number of\nhis 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 him,\nwould only recompense himself for the grace which he had granted; and\nwhen he punished him, he punished him for not receiving the grace which\nhe had hardened him against receiving. This line of conduct, so cruel\nand barbarous, appears equally unworthy of a wise God as it is of a\nbeing 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 the\nDivinity. In a word, you will perceive that the chastisements of another\nlife are but a crowd of chimeras, invented to disturb human reason, to\nsubjugate it beneath the feet of imposture, to annihilate forever the\nrepose of slaves whom the priesthood would inthrall and retain under its\nyoke.\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, by\nconsequence, 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 violence\nto his justice, may avenge himself as God, that is to say, avenge\nhimself to infinity. In this case I shall say that this God is not\ngood; that he is vindictive, a character which always announces fear\nand weakness. In fine, I shall say that among the imperfect beings who\ncompose the human species, there is not, perhaps, a single one who,\nwithout some advantage to himself, without personal fear, in a word,\nwithout folly, would consent to punish everlastingly the wretch who\nmight have the misfortune to offend him, but who no longer had either\nthe ability or the inclination to commit another offence. Caligula\nfound, at least, some little amusement to forsake for a time the cares\nof government, and enjoy the spectacle of punishment which he inflicted\non those unfortunate men whom he had an interest in destroying. But what\nadvantage can it be to God to heap on the damned everlasting torments?\nWill this amuse him? Will their frightful punishments correct their\nfaults? Can these examples of the divine severity be of any service to\nthose on earth, who witness not their friends in hell? Will it not be\nthe most astonishing of all the miracles of Deity to make the bodies\nof the damned invulnerable, to resist, through the ceaseless ages of\neternity, the frightful torments destined 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 the\nDevil and the apostate angels, that is to say, the enemies of God,\nwhom he will employ as the ministers of his implacable vengeance. These\nwicked spirits, then, will execute the commands which this severe judge\nwill pronounce against men at the last judgment. For you must know,\nMadam, that a God who knows all will at some future time take an account\nof what he already knows. So, then, not content with judging men at\ndeath, he will assemble the whole human race with great pomp at the last\nor general judgment, in which he will confirm his sentence in the view\nof the whole human race, assembled to receive their doom. Thus on the\nwreck of the world will he pronounce a definitive judgment, from which\nthere will be no appeal.\n\nBut, in attending this memorable judgment, what will become of the\nsouls of men, 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 parsons,\nwho are so well instructed in what is passing in another world, cannot\nspeak with certainty as to their fate? According to some of these\nwiseacres, 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 a\ncertain proportion of souls who have not been sufficiently purified at\ndeath 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 bottomed\nthe doctrine of _purgatory_, which every good Catholic is obliged to\nbelieve for the benefit of the priests, who reserve to themselves, as\nis very reasonable, the power of compelling by their prayers a just and\nimmutable God to relax in his sternness, and liberate the captive souls,\nwhich he had only condemned to undergo this purgation in order that they\nmight be made meet for the joys of Paradise.\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 directly\nto glory or into a place of punishment, to suffer the award of evil by\nthe enduring of punishments for which God had eternally prepared both\nthe sufferer and his torments! Even before the reunion of soul and body\nat the final judgment, they fancy that the soul of the wicked (which, on\nthe principle of all souls being spirits, must be the same in essence as\nthe soul of the elect,) will, though deprived of those organs by which\nit felt, and thought, and acted, be capable of undergoing the agency or\naction of a fire! It is true that some Protestant theologians tell us\nthat the fire of hell is a spiritual fire, and, by consequence, very\ndifferent from the material fire vomited out of Vesuvius, and AEtna,\nand Hecla. Nor ought we to doubt that these informed doctors of the\nProtestant faith know very well what they say, and that they have\nas precise and clear ideas of a spiritual fire as they have of the\nineffable joys of Paradise, which may be as spiritual as the punishment\nof the damned in hell. Such are, Madam, in a few words, the absurdities,\nnot less revolting than ridiculous, which the dogmas of a future life\nand of the immortality of the soul have engendered in the minds of men.\nSuch are the phantoms which have been invented and propagated, to seduce\nand alarm mortals, to excite their hopes and their fears; such the\nillusions that so powerfully operate on weak and feeling beings. But as\nmelancholy ideas have more effect upon the imagination than those which\nare agreeable, the priests have always insisted more forcibly on what\nmen have to fear on the part of a terrible God than on what they have to\nhope from the mercy of a forgiving Deity, full of goodness. Princes the\nmost wicked are infinitely more respected than those who are famed for\nindulgence and humanity. The priests have had the art to throw us into\nuncertainty and mistrust by the twofold character which they have given\nthe Divinity. If they promise us salvation, they tell us that we must\nwork it out for ourselves, \"with fear and trembling.\" It is thus that\nthey have contrived to inspire the minds of the most honest men with\ndismay and doubt, repeating without ceasing that time only must disclose\nwho are worthy of the divine love, or who are to be the objects of the\ndivine wrath. Terror has been and always will be the most certain means\nof corrupting and enslaving 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 some\nChristians thoroughly persuaded of another life, who, notwithstanding,\nconduct themselves as if they had nothing to fear on the part of a God\nof vengeance, nor any thing to hope from a God of mercy. When any of\nthese are engaged in some great project, at all times they are tempted\nby some strong passion or by some bad habit, they shut their eyes on\nanother life, they see not the enraged judge, they suffer themselves to\nsin, and when it is committed, they comfort themselves by saying, that\nGod is good.\n\nBesides, they console themselves by the same contradictory religion\nwhich shows them also this same God, whom it represents so susceptible\nof wrath, as full of mercy, bestowing his grace on all those who are\nsensible of their evils and repent In a word, I see none whom the fears\nof hell will restrain when passion or interest solicit obedience. The\nvery priests who make so many efforts to convince us of their dogmas too\noften evince more wickedness of conduct than we find in those who have\nnever heard one word about another life. Those who from infancy have\nbeen taught these terrifying lessons are neither less debauched, nor\nless proud, nor less passionate, nor less unjust, nor less avaricious\nthan others who have lived and died ignorant of Christian purgatory and\nParadise. In fine, the dogma of another life has little or no influence\non them; it annihilates none of their passions; it is a bridle merely\nwith some few timid souls, who, without its knowledge, would never have\nthe hardihood to be guilty of any great excesses. This dogma is very\nfit to disturb the quiet of some honest, timorous persons, and the\ncredulous, whose imagination it inflames, without ever staying the\nhand of great rogues, without imposing on them more than the decency of\ncivilization and a specious morality of life, restrained chiefly by the\ncoercion of public laws.\n\nIn short, to sum all up in one thought, I behold a religion gloomy\nand formidable to make impressions very lively, very deep, and very\ndangerous on a mind such as yours, although it makes but very momentary\nimpressions on the minds of such as are hardened in crime, or whose\ndissipation destroys constantly the effects of its threats. More lively\naffected than others by your principles, you have been but too often\nand too seriously occupied for your happiness by gloomy and harassing\nobjects, which have powerfully affected your sensible imagination,\nthough the same phantoms that have pursued you have been altogether\nbanished from the mind of those who have had neither your virtues, your\nunderstanding, 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 which\nabridges their pleasures, there are very many who have maturely examined\nit, that have been disgusted with it, because they could not consent to\nlive in the fears it engendered, nor to nourish the despair it created.\nThey have then abjured this religion, fit only to fill the soul with\ninquietudes, that they might find in the bosom of reason the repose\nwhich it insures to good sense.\n\nTimes of the greatest crimes are always times of the greatest ignorance.\nIt is in these times, or usually so, that the greatest noise is made\nabout religion. Men then follow mechanically, and without examination,\nthe tenets which their priests impose on them, without ever diving\nto the bottom of their doctrines. In proportion as mankind become\nenlightened, great crimes become more rare, the manners of men are more\npolished, the sciences are cultivated, and the religion which they have\ncoolly and carefully examined loses sensibly its credit. It is thus that\nwe see so many incredulous people in the bosom of society become more\nagreeable and complacent now than formerly, when it depended on the\ncaprice of a priest to involve them in troubles, and to invite the\npeople to crimes in the hope of thereby meriting heaven.\n\nReligion is consoling only to those who have no embarrassment about it;\nthe indefinite and vague recompense which it promises, without giving\nideas of it, is made to deceive those who make no reflections on the\nimpatient, variable, false, and cruel character which this religion\ngives of its God. But how can it make any promises on the part of a God\nwhom it represents as a tempter, a seducer--who appears, moreover,\nto take pleasure in laying the most dangerous snares for his weak\ncreatures? How can it reckon on the favors of a God full of caprice, who\nit alternately informs us is replete with tenderness or with hatred?\nBy what right does it hold out to us the rewards of a despotic and\ntyrannical God, who does or does not choose men for happiness, and who\nconsults only his own fantasy to destine some of his creatures to bliss\nand others to perdition? Nothing, doubtless, but the blindest enthusiasm\ncould induce mortals to place confidence in such a God as the priests\nhave feigned; it is to folly alone we must attribute the love some\nwell-meaning people profess to the God of the parsons; it is matchless\nextravagance alone that could prevail on men to reckon on the unknown\nrewards which are promised them by this religion, at the same time that\nit assures us that God is the author of grace, but that we have no right\nto 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, that\nGod will give grace to whomsoever he pleases, yet it remains with them*\nselves 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 not\nevery man of sense prefer the idea of complete annihilation to that of\na future existence, in order to be the sport of the eternal caprice of\na Deity, so cruel as to damn and torment, without end, the unfortunate\nbeings whom he created so weak, that he might punish them for faults\ninseparable from their nature? If God is good, as we are assured,\nnotwithstanding the cruelties of which the priests suppose him capable,\nis it not more consonant to all our ideas of a being perfectly good,\nto believe that he did not create them to sport with them in a state\nof eternal damnation, which they had not the power of choosing, or of\nrejecting and shunning? Has not God treated the beasts of the field more\nfavorably than he has treated man, since he has exempted them from\nsin, and by consequence has not exposed them to suffer an eternal\nunhappiness?\n\nThe dogma of the immortality of the soul, or of a future life, presents\nnothing consoling in the Christian religion. On the contrary, it is\ncalculated expressly to fill the heart of the Christian, following\nout his principles, with bitterness and continual alarm. I appeal to\nyourself, Madam, whether these sublime notions have-any thing consoling\nin them? Whenever this uncertain idea has presented itself to your\nmind, has it not filled you with a cold and secret horror? Has the\nconsciousness of a life so virtuous and so spotless as yours, secured\nyou against those fears which are inspired by the idea of a being\njealous, severe, capricious, whose eternal disgrace the least fault is\nsure of incurring, and in whose eyes the smallest weakness, or freedom\nthe most involuntary, is sufficient to cancel years of strict observance\nof 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 state\nafter death, they speak only of the hopes which we may entertain of the\ngoodness of God. To those who have too much confidence, they preach\nup the terrors of the Lord, and the judgments of a severe God. By this\nchicanery they contrive to subject or retain under their yoke all those\nwho are weak enough to be led by the contradictory doctrines of these\nblind 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 desires,\nand that since there is nothing on this earth capable of satisfying it,\nthese are indubitable proofs that it is destined to subsist eternally.\nIn a word, that as we naturally desire to exist always, we may naturally\nconclude that we shall always exist. But what think you, Madam, of such\nreasonings? To what do they lead? Do we desire the continuation of this\nexistence, because it may be blessed and happy, or because we know not\nwhat may become of us? But we cannot desire a miserable existence, or,\nat least, one in which it is more than probable we may be miserable\nrather than happy. If, as the Christian religion so often repeats, the\nnumber of the elect is very small, and salvation very difficult, the\nnumber of the reprobate very great, and damnation very easily obtained,\nwho is he who would desire to exist always with so evident a risk of\nbeing eternally damned? Would it not have been better for us not to have\nbeen born, than to have been compelled against our nature to play a game\nso fraught with peril? Does not annihilation itself present to us an\nidea preferable to that of an existence which may very easily lead us\nto eternal tortures? Suffer me, Madam, to appeal to yourself. If, before\nyou had come into this world, you had had your choice of being born, or\nof not seeing the light of this fair sun, and you could have been made\nto comprehend, 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 priests\npretend to found this dogma of the immortality of the soul and 'a future\nlife. The desire which we might have of it could only be founded on\nthe hope of enjoying eternal happiness. But does religion give us this\nassurance? Yes, say the clergy, if you submit faithfully to the rules\nit prescribes. But to conform one's self to these rules, is it not\nnecessary to have grace from Heaven? And, are we then sure we shall\nobtain that grace, or if we do, merit Heaven? Do the priests not repeat\nto us, without ceasing, that God is the author of grace, and that he\nonly gives it to a small number of the elect? Do they not daily tell\nus that, except one man, who rendered himself worthy of this eternal\nhappiness, there are millions going the high road to damnation? This\nbeing admitted, every Christian, who reasons, would be a fool to desire\na future existence which he has so many motives to fear, or to reckon on\na happiness which every thing conspires to show him is as uncertain,\nas difficult to be obtained, as it is unequivocally dependent on the\nfantasies of a capricious Deity, who sports with the misfortunes of his\ncreatures.\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 justify\nProvidence from the transitory injustices of this world. This dogma was\nreceived with avidity, because it flattered the desires, and especially\nthe vanity of man, who arrogated to himself a superiority above all the\nbeings that enjoy existence, and which he would pass by and reduce to\nmere clay; who believed himself the favorite of God, without ever taxing\nhis attention with this other fact--that God makes him every instant\nexperience vicissitudes, calamities, and trials, as all sentient\nnatures experience; that God made him, in fine, to undergo death, or\ndissolution, which is an invariable law that all that exists must find\nverified. This haughty creature, who fancies himself a privileged being,\nalone agreeable to his Maker, does not perceive that there are stages\nin his life when his existence is more uncertain and much more weak\nthan that of the other animals, or even of some inanimate things. Man is\nunwilling to admit that he possesses not the strength of the lion,\nnor the swiftness of the stag, nor the durability of an oak, nor the\nsolidity of marble or metal. He believes himself the greatest favorite,\nthe most sublime, the most noble; he believes himself superior to all\nother animals because he possesses the faculties of thinking, judging,\nand reasoning. But his thoughts only render him more wretched than all\nthe animals whom he supposes deprived of this faculty, or who, at least,\nhe believes, do not enjoy it in the same degree with himself. Do not the\nfaculties of thinking, of remembering, of foresight, too often render\nhim unhappy by the very idea of the past, the present, and the future?\nDo not his passions drive him to excesses unknown to the other animals?\nAre his judgments always reasonable and wise? Is reason so largely\ndeveloped in the great mass of men that the priests should interdict its\nuse as dangerous? Are mankind sufficiently advanced in knowledge to be\nable to 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 the\nsame laws; that all beings are only born to die; they produce their like\nto destroy themselves; that all sentient beings are compelled to undergo\npleasures and pains; they appear and they disappear; they are and\nthey cease to be; they evince under one form that they will quit it\nto produce another. Such are the continual vicissitudes to which every\nthing that exists is evidently subjected, and from which man is\nnot exempt, any more than the other beings and productions that he\nappropriates to his use as _lord of the creation_. Even our globe\nitself undergoes change; the seas change their place; the mountains are\ngathered in heaps or levelled into plains; every thing that breathes is\ndestroyed at last, and man alone pretends to an eternal duration.\n\nIt is unnecessary to tell me that we degrade man when we compare\nhim with the beasts, deprived of souls and intelligence; this is no\nlevelling doctrine, but one which places him exactly where nature places\nhim, but from which his puerile vanity has unfortunately driven him.\nAll 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 life\nmust part with it at death; all men are equally compelled to submit to\nthis fate; they are equal at death, although during life their power,\ntheir talents, and especially their virtues, establish a marked\ndifference, which, though real, is only momentary. What will they be\nafter death? They will be exactly what they were ten years before they\nwere 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 alternative\nto those who enjoy the good things of this world, why do they not\nconsole themselves with the idea of what they do actually enjoy? Let\nthem call reason to their aid; it will calm the inquietudes of their\nimagination, but too greatly alarmed; it will disperse the clouds which\nreligion spreads over their minds; it will teach them that this death,\nso terrible in apprehension, is really nothing, and that it will neither\nbe accompanied with remembrance of past pleasures nor of sorrow now no\nmore.\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 which\nhas no right to disturb your repose, cultivate virtue, which has always\nbeen your favorite, so necessary to your internal peace, and which has\nrendered you so dear to all those who have the happiness of being\nyour friends. Let your rank, your credit, your riches, your talents be\nemployed to make others happy, to support the oppressed, to succor\nthe 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! Call\nin the aid of your reason to dissipate the phantoms which alarm you, to\nefface the prejudices which you have imbibed in early life! In a word,\ncomfort yourself, and remember that in practising virtue, as you do,\nyou cannot become an object of hatred to God, who, if he has reserved\nin eternity rigorous punishments for the social virtues, will be the\nstrangest, 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 moat\nconcealed are injurious to himself. He lives in perpetual fear lest some\nmishap should unfold his weaknesses and secret faults. It is from all\nthese ideas that we are to look for regret and remorse, even in those\nwho 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\nman such 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 who\nby their vices injure themselves, and render themselves reprehensible in\nthe 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 term\nthat your youth causes you now to see only at a distance--a term that\nyou ought not to accelerate by your fears--a term, in fine, that the\ncares and desires of all those who know you will seek to put off till?\nfull of days and contented with the part you have played in the scene\nof the world, you shall yourself desire to gently reenter the bosom of\nnature.\n\nI am, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER VI. Of the Mysteries, Sacraments, and Religious Ceremonies of\nChristianity\n\nThe reflections, Madam, which I have already offered you in these\nletters ought, I conceive, to have sufficed to undeceive you, in a great\nmeasure, of the lugubrious and afflicting notions with which you have\nbeen inspired by religious prejudices. However, to fulfil the task which\nyou have imposed on me, and to assist you in freeing yourself from\nthe unfavorable ideas you may have imbibed from a system replete with\nirrelevancies and contradictions, I shall continue to examine the\nstrange mysteries with which Christianity is garnished. They are founded\non ideas so odd and so contrary to reason, that if from infancy we\nhad not been familiarized with them, we should blush at our species in\nhaving 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 to\nthem a great many incomprehensible mysteries, for which they have the\nmost profound veneration. Their impenetrable obscurity appears to be a\nsufficient motive among them for adding these. Their priests, encouraged\nby their credulity, which nothing can outdo, seem to be studious to\nmultiply the articles of their faith, and the number of inconceivable\nobjects which they have said must be received with submission, and\nadored 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_.\nThese three Gods, who are designated under the respective names of the\n_Father_, the _Son_, and the _Holy Ghost_, are, nevertheless, but\none God only, These three persons are equal in power, in wisdom, in\nperfections; yet the second is subordinate to the first, in consequence\nof which he was compelled to become a man, and be the victim of the\nwrath of his Father. This is what the priests call the mystery of\nthe _incarnation_. Notwithstanding his innocence, his perfection, his\npurity, the Son of God became the object of the vengeance of a just God,\nwho is the same as the Son in question, but who would not consent to\nappease himself but by the death of his own Son, who is a portion of\nhimself. The Son of God, not content with becoming man, died without\nhaving sinned, for the salvation of men who had sinned. God preferred to\nthe punishment of imperfect beings, whom he did not choose to amend, the\npunishment of his only Son, full of divine perfections. The death of God\nbecame necessary to reclaim the human kind from the slavery of Satan,\nwho without that would not have quitted his prey, and who has been found\nsufficiently powerful against the Omnipotent to oblige him to sacrifice\nhis Son. This is what the priests designate by the name of the mystery\nof _redemption_.\n\nIt is assuredly sufficient to expose such opinions to demonstrate their\nabsurdity. It is evident, if there exists only a single God, there\ncannot be three. We may, it is true, contemplate the Deity after the\nmanner of Plato, who, before the birth of Christianity, exhibited him\nunder three different points of view, that is to say, as all-wise, as\nall-powerful, as full of reason, and as infinite in goodness; but it was\nverily the excess of delirium to personify these three divine qualities,\nor transform them into real beings. We can readily imagine these moral\nattributes to be united in the same God, but it is egregious folly\nto fashion them into three different Gods; nor will it remedy this\nmetaphysical polytheism to assert that these three are one. Besides,\nthis revery never entered the head of the Hebrew legislator. The\nEternal, in revealing himself to Moses, did not announce himself as\ntriple. There is not one syllable in the Old Testament about this\nTrinity, although a notion so _bizarre_, so marvellous, and so little\nconsonant with our ideas of a divine being, deserved to have been\nformally announced, especially as it is the foundation and corner stone\nof the Christian religion, which was from all eternity an object of the\ndivine solicitude, and on the establishment of which, if we may credit\nour sapient priests, God seems to have entertained serious thoughts long\nbefore, the creation of the 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 ethereal\nessence with a material body, and envelop himself with it? How could the\ndivine nature amalgamate itself with the imperfect nature of man, and\nhow could an immense and infinite being, as the Deity is represented,\nbe formed in the womb of a virgin? After what manner could a pure spirit\nfecundate this favorite virgin? Did the Son of God enjoy in the womb of\nhis mother the faculties of omnipotence, or was he like other children\nduring his infancy,--weak, liable to infirmities, sickness, and\nintellectual imbecility, so conspicuous in the years of childhood; and\nif so, what, during this period, became of the divine wisdom and power?\nIn fine, how could God suffer and die? How could a just God consent that\na God exempt from all sin should endure the chastisements which are due\nto sinners? Why did he not appease himself without immolating a victim\nso precious and so innocent? What would you think of that sovereign who,\nin the event of his subjects rebelling against him, should forgive\nthem all, or a select number of them, by putting to death his only and\nbeloved son, who 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 condition\nin which, by their own will, they should never have sinned? According to\nthe entire system of the Christian religion, it is evident that God did\nonly create the world to have an opportunity of immolating his Son for\nthe rebellious beings he might have formed and preserved immaculate. The\nfall of the rebellious angels had no visible end to serve but to effect\nand hasten the fall of Adam. It appears from this system that God\npermitted the first man to sin that he might have the pleasure of\nshowing his goodness in sacrificing his \"only begotten Son\" to reclaim\nmen from the thraldom of Satan. He intrusted to Satan as much power\nas might enable him to work the ruin of our race, with the view of\nafterwards changing the projects of the great mass of mankind, by making\none God to die, and thereby destroy the power 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 the\nslaves of sin? Do they find themselves in the happy impossibility of\nkindling the divine wrath? Has the blood of the Son of God washed away\nthe sins of the whole world? Do those who are reclaimed, those to whom\nhe has made himself known, those who believe, offend not against heaven?\nHas the Deity, who ought, without doubt, to be perfectly satisfied with\nso memorable a sacrifice, remitted to them the punishment of sin? Is it\nnot necessary to do something more for them? And since the death of\nhis Son, do we find the Christians exempt from disease and from death?\nNothing of all this has happened. The measures taken from all eternity\nby the wisdom and prescience of a God who should find against his plans\nno obstacles have been overthrown. The death of God himself has been of\nno utility to the world. All the divine projects have militated against\nthe free-will of man, but they have not destroyed the power of Satan.\nMan continues to sin and to die; the Devil keeps possession of the field\nof battle; and it is for a very small number of the elect that the Deity\nconsented 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 they\nare as incapable as ourselves to comprehend the matter. For the priests\nto say that they believe such absurdities, is to be guilty of manifest\nfalsehood; because a proposition to be believed must necessarily\nbe understood. To believe what they do not comprehend is to adhere\nsottishly to the absurdities of others; to believe things which are not\ncomprehended by those who gossip about them is the height of folly;\nto believe blindly the mysteries of the Christian religion is to admit\ncontradictions of which they who declare them are not convinced. In\nfine, is it necessary to abandon one's reason among absurdities that\nhave been received without examination from ancient priests, who were\neither the dupes of more knowing men, or themselves the impostors who\nfabricated 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 to\nyou 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. The\nvulgar mistake even what they have the means of knowing, or, which is\nthe same thing, what they are least practised in they are dazzled with;\nthey proclaim it, accordingly, marvellous, prodigious, extraordinary;\nit is a phenomenon. They neither admire nor respect much what is always\nvisible to their eyes; but whatever strikes their imagination, whatever\ngives scope to the mind, becomes itself the fruitful source of other\nideas far more extravagant. The priests have had the art to prevail on\nthe people to believe in their secret correspondence with the Deity;\nthey have been thence much respected, and in all countries their\nprofessed intercourse with an unseen Divinity has given room for their\nannouncement of things the most marvellous and mysterious.\n\nBesides, the Divinity being a being whose impenetrable essence is veiled\nfrom mortal sight, it has been commonly admitted by the ignorant, that\nwhat could not be seen by mortal eye must necessarily be divine. Hence\n_sacred, mysterious, and divine_, are synonymous terms; and these\nimposing words have sufficed to place the human race on their knees to\nadore 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 of\nmysteries, it is indeed difficult to designate the point where the mind\nought to stop.\n\nSeeing, then, that our doctors, better advised, undoubtedly, than those\nof the Protestants, have adroitly multiplied mysteries, one is naturally\nled to conclude, they despaired of governing the mind of man, if there\nwas any thing in their religion that was clear, intelligible, and\nnatural. More mysterious than the priests of Egypt itself, they have\nfound means to change every thing into mystery; the very movements of\nthe body, usages the most indifferent, ceremonies the most frivolous,\nhave become, in the powerful hands of the priests, sublime and divine\nmysteries. In the Roman religion all is magic, all is prodigy, all is\nsupernatural. In the decisions of our theologians, the side which they\nespouse is almost always that which is the most abhorrent to reason, the\nmost calculated to confound and overthrow common sense. In consequence,\nour priests are by far the most rich, powerful, and considerable. The\ncontinual want which we have of their aid to obtain from Heaven that\ngrace which it is their province to bring down for us, places us in\ncontinual dependence on those marvellous men who have received their\ncommission to treat with the Deity, and become the ambassadors between\nHeaven 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 unseen\nviews, of which we can form no ideas. In _baptism_, without which no man\ncan be saved, the water sprinkled on the head of the child washes his\nspiritual soul, and carries away the defilement which is a consequence\nof the sin committed in the person of Adam, who sinned for all men.\nBy the mysterious virtue of this water, and of some words equally\nunintelligible, the infant finds itself reconciled to God, as his first\nfather had made him guilty without his knowledge and consent. In all\nthis, Madam, you cannot, by possibility, comprehend the complication\nof these mysteries, with which no Christian can dispense, though,\nassuredly, there is not one believer who knows what the virtue of the\nmarvellous water consists in, which is necessary for his regeneration.\nNor can you conceive how the supreme and equitable Governor of the\nuniverse could impute faults to those who have never been guilty of\ntransgressions. Nor can you comprehend how a wise Deity can attach his\nfavor to a futile ceremony, which, without changing the nature of\nthe being who has derived an existence it neither commenced nor was\nconsulted in, must, if administered in winter, be attended with serious\nconsequences to the health 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, and\nprocures the grace of God to uphold him in the faith. You see, Madam,\nthat the efficacy of this sacrament is unfortunately lost in my person;\nfor, although in my youth I had been duly confirmed, I have not\nbeen preserved against smiling at this faith, nor have I been kept\ninvulnerable in the credence of my priests and forefathers. In the\nsacrament of _Penitence_, or confession, a ceremony which consists in\nputting a priest in possession of all one's faults, public or private,\nyou will discover mysteries equally marvellous. In favor of this\nsubmission, to which every good Catholic is necessarily obliged to\nsubmit, a priest, _himself a sinner_, charged with full powers by the\nDeity, pardons and remits, in His name, the sins against which God\nis enraged. God reconciles himself with every man who humbles himself\nbefore the priest, and in accordance with the orders of the latter, he\nopens heaven to the wretch whom he had before determined to exclude.\nIf this sacrament doth not always procure grace, very distinguishing to\nthose who use it, it has, at all events, the advantage of rendering them\npliable to the clergy, who, by its means, find an easy sway in their\nspiritual empire over the human mind, an empire that enables them, not\nunfrequently, to disturb society, and more often the repose of families,\nand the very conscience of the person confessing.\n\nThere is among the Catholics another sacrament, which contains the most\nstrange mysteries. It is that of the _Eucharist_. Our teachers, under\npain of being damned, enjoin us to believe that the Son of God is\ncompelled by a priest to quit the abodes of glory, and to come and mask\nhimself under the appearance of bread! This bread becomes forthwith\nthe body of God--this God multiplies himself in all places, and at all\ntimes, when and where the priests, scattered over the face of the earth,\nfind it necessary to command his presence in the shape of bread--yet we\nsee only one and the same God, who receives the homage and adoration of\nall those good people who find it very ridiculous in the Egyptians to\nadore lupines and onions. But the Catholics are not simply content with\nworshipping a bit of bread, which they consider by the conjurations of a\npriest as divine; they eat this bread, and then persuade themselves\nthat they are nourished by the body or substance of God himself. The\nProtestants, it is true, do not admit a mystery so very odd, and regard\nthose who do as real idolaters. What then? This marvellous dogma is,\nwithout doubt, of the greatest utility to the priests. In the eyes of\nthose who admit it, they become very important gentlemen, who have the\npower of disposing of the Deity, whom they make to descend between their\nhands; and thus a 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 results;\nfor we frequently behold sick persons have their fears of death allayed,\nthough the operation may but too often accelerate their dissolution.\nBut our priests are so full of charity, and they interest themselves so\ngreatly in the salvation of souls, that they like rather to risk their\nown health beside the sick bed of persons afflicted with the most\ncontagious diseases, than lose the opportunity of administering their\nsalutary ointment.\n\n_Ordination_ is another very mysterious ceremony, by which the Deity\nsecretly bestows his invisible grace on those whom he has selected\nto fill the office of the holy priesthood. According to the Catholic\nreligion, God gives to the priests the power of making God himself,\nas we 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 enabled,\nby the help of some words and certain ceremonies, to change a profane\nman into one that is sacred; that is to say, who is not profane any\nlonger. By this spiritual metamorphosis, this man becomes capable of\nenjoying considerable revenues without being obliged to do any thing\nuseful for society. On the contrary, heaven itself confers on him the\nright of deceiving, of annoying, and of pillaging the profane citizens,\nwho labor for his ease and luxury.\n\nFinally, _Marriage_ is a sacrament that confers mysterious and invisible\ngraces, of which we in truth have no very precise ideas. Protestants\nand Infidels, who look upon marriage as a civil contract, and not as a\nsacrament, receive neither more nor less of its visible grace than the\ngood Catholics. The former see not that those who are married enjoy by\nthis sacrament any secret virtue, whence they may become more constant\nand faithful to the engagements they have contracted. And I believe both\nyou and I, Madam, have known many people on whom it has only conferred\nthe grace of cordially detesting each other.\n\nI will not now enter upon the consideration of a multitude of other\nmagic ceremonies, admitted by some Christian sectaries and rejected\nby others, 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 them\nis exceedingly mysterious. It is thus that the water on which a priest\nhas pronounced a few words, contained in his conjuring book, acquires\nthe invisible virtue of chasing away wicked spirits, who are invisible\nby their nature. It is thus that the oil, on which a bishop has muttered\nsome certain formula, becomes capable of communicating to men, and even\nto some inanimate substances, such as wood, stone, metals, and walls,\nthose invisible virtues which they did not previously possess. In fine,\nin all the ceremonies of the church, we discover mysteries, and the\nvulgar, who comprehend nothing of them, are not the less disposed to\nadmire, to be fascinated with, and to respect with a blind devotion. But\nsoon would they cease to have this veneration for these fooleries,\nif they comprehended the design and end the priests have in view by\nenforcing their observance.\n\nThe priests of all nations have begun by being charlatans, castle\nbuilders, divines, and sorcerers.\n\nWe find men of these characters in nations the most ignorant and savage,\nwhere they live by the ignorance and credulity of others. They are\nregarded by their ignorant countrymen as superior beings, endowed with\nsupernatural gifts, favorites of the very Gods, because the uninquiring\nmultitude see them perform things which they take to be mighty\nmarvellous, or which the ignorant have always considered marvellous. In\nnations the most polished, the people are always the same; persons the\nmost sensible are not often of the same ideas, especially on the subject\nof religion; 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\ncastles before 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 ignorant;\nthe marvellous captivates all men; persons the most enlightened find it\ndifficult to defend themselves against these illusions. Hence you may\ndiscover that the priests are always opinionatively attached to these\nrites and ceremonies of their worship; and it has never been without\nsome violent revolution that they have been diminished or abrogated. The\nannihilation of a trifling ceremony has often caused rivers of blood\nto flow. The people have believed themselves lost and undone when one\nbolder than the rest wished to innovate in matters of religion; they\nhave fancied that they were to be deprived of inestimable advantages and\ninvisible but saving grace, which they have supposed to be attached by\nthe Divinity himself to some movements of the body. Priests the most\nadroit have overcharged religion with ceremonies, and practices, and\nmysteries. They fancied that all these were so many cords to bind the\npeople to their 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 tales.\nYou must now be convinced that the things which I have touched upon as\nmysteries are profound absurdities, of which their inventors can render\nno reasonable account either to themselves or to others. You must now be\ncertified that the movements of the body and other religious ceremonies\nmust be matters perfectly indifferent to the wise Being whom they\ndescribe to us as the great mover of all things. You conclude, then,\nthat all these marvellous rites, in which our priests announce so much\nmystery, and in which the people are taught to consider the whole of\nreligion as consisting, are nothing more than puerilities, to which\npeople of understanding ought never to submit. That they are usages\ncalculated principally to alarm the minds of the weak, and keep in\nbondage those who have not the courage to throw off the yoke of priests.\nI am, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER VII. Of the pious Rites, Prayers, and Austerities of Christianity\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 how to examine some of those practices to which the\npriests tell us the Deity attaches his complaisance and his favors.\nIn consequence 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 conformable\nto these erroneous notions that they have framed of this Being. God\nis always regarded as a man full of passion, sensible to presents,\nto flatteries, and marks of submission; or rather as a fantastic and\npunctilious sovereign, who is very seriously angry when we neglect\nto show him that respect and obeisance which the vanity of earthly\npotentates 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\nus we 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 that\na God who is good, who knows all things, has no need to be solicited;\nthat a God who is the author of all things has no need to be presented\nwith any part of his workmanship; that a God who knows his power has no\nneed of either flatteries or submissions, to remind him of his grandeur,\nhis power, or his rights; that a God who is Lord of all has no need of\nofferings which belong to himself; that a God who has no need of any\nthing cannot be won by presents, nor grudge to his creatures the goods\nwhich they have received from his divine bounty.\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 acceptable\nto the Deity. The priests who are always declared to be the ministers,\nthe favorites, the interpreters of God's will, have discovered how they\nmight most easily profit by the errors of mankind, and the presents\nwhich they offer to the Deity. They are thence interested to enter into\nthe false ideas of the people, and even to redouble the darkness of\ntheir minds. They have invented means to please unknown powers who\ndispose of their fate--to excite their devotion and their zeal for\nthose invisible beings of whom they were themselves the visible\nrepresentatives. These priests soon perceived that in laboring for the\nGods they labored for themselves, and that they could appropriate the\nmajor part of the presents, sacrifices, and offerings, which were made\nto beings who never showed themselves in order to claim what their\ndevotees 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, the\ngreatest, the most despotic, and the most selfish. The people acquainted\nsimply with human opinions, and lull of debasement, have adopted without\nexamination the inventions which the Deity has shown them as the fittest\nto obtain his favor and soften his wrath. The priests fail not to\nadapt these practices, which they have invented, to their own system of\nreligion and personal interest; and the ignorant and vulgar have allowed\nthemselves to be blindly led by these guides. Habit has familiarized\nthem with things upon which they never reason, and they make a duty of\nthe routine which has been transmitted to them from age to age, and from\nfather to child.\n\nThe infant, as soon as it can be made to understand any thing, is taught\nmechanically to join its little hands in prayer. His tongue is forced\nto lisp a formula which it does not comprehend, addressed to a God which\nits understanding can never conceive.\n\nIn the arms of its nurse it is carried into the temple or church, where\nits eyes are habituated to contemplate spectacles, ceremonies, and\npretended mysteries, of which, even when it shall have arrived at mature\nage, it will still understand nothing. If at this latter period any one\nshould ask the reason of his conduct, or desire to know why he made\nthis conduct 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 regard\nto these habitual futilities, either he would not listen, or he would\nbe irritated against whoever denied the notions rooted in his brain. Any\nman who wished to lead him to good sense, and who reasoned against the\nhabits he had contracted, would be regarded by him as ridiculous and\nextravagant, or he would repulse him as an infidel and blasphemer,\nbecause his instructions lead him thus to designate every man who fails\nto pursue the same routine as himself, or who does not attach the same\nideas as the devotee to things which the latter has never examined.\n\nWhat horror does it not fill the Christian devotee with if you tell him\nthat 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 most\nagreeable to his God, are unworthy and unnecessary to this Deity! For\nif 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? If\nthis God is immutable and wise, how can his creatures change the fixed\nresolution of the Deity? If this God is just and good, how can he injure\nus, or place us in a situation to require the use of that prayer which\nentreats 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 necessary\nthat accords at all with what they tell us has been dictated by God\nhimself. You see that the Lord's prayer itself contains many absurdities\nand ideas totally contrary to those which every Christian ought to have\nof his God. If you ask a Christian why he repeats without ceasing this\nvain formula, on which he never reflects, he can assign little other\nreason than that he was taught in his infancy to clasp his hands, repeat\nwords the meaning of which his priest, not himself, is alone bound to\nunderstand. He may probably add that he has ever been taught to consider\nthis formula requisite, as it was the most sacred and the most proper to\nmerit 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 existence\nin supplicating Heaven to pour down its blessings on him. But if God is\ngood, if he cherishes his creatures, if he knows their wants, it seems\nsuperfluous to pray to him. If God changes not, he has never promised to\nalter his secret decrees, or, if he has, he is variable in his fancies,\nlike man; to what purpose are all our petitions to him? If God is\noffended with us, will he not reject prayers which insult his goodness,\nhis 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 God\nto us under the traits of a monarch difficult of access, who cannot be\neasily pacified, but of whom they are the ministers, the favorites, and\nservants. They become intercessors between this invisible Sovereign\nand his subjects of this nether world. They sell to the ignorant their\nintercession with the All-powerful; they pray for the people, and by\nsociety they are recompensed with real advantages, with riches, honors,\nand ease. It is on the necessity of prayer that our priests, our monks,\nand all religious men establish their lazy existence; that they profess\nto win a place in heaven for their followers and paymasters, who,\nwithout this intercession, could neither obtain the favor of God, nor\navert his chastisements and the calamities the world is so often visited\nwith. The prayers of the priests are regarded as a universal remedy\nfor all evils. All the misfortunes of nations are laid before these\nspiritual guides, who generally find public calamities a source of\nprofit to themselves, as it is then they are amply paid for their\nsupposed mediation between the Deity and his suffering creatures. They\nnever teach the people that these things spring from the course of\nnature and of laws they cannot control. O, no. They make the world\nbelieve they are the judgments of an angry God. The evils for which they\ncan find no remedy 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 divine\nwrath. They tell them that God has been offended; that he has been\nneglected; that he exacts prayers, offerings, and sacrifices; that he\nrequires, in order to be appeased, that his ministers should receive\nmore consideration, should be heard more attentively, and should be more\nenriched. Without this, they announce to the vulgar that their harvests\nwill fail, that their fields will be inundated, that pestilence, famine,\nwar, and contagion will visit the earth; and when these misfortunes have\narrived, they declare they may be removed by 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, abundance,\nhealth, and life itself. They would find that wars, wants, and famine\nare often the effects of human imprudence; that they would submit to\naccidents which they could not prevent, and guard against those they\ncould foresee; they would remedy by simple and natural means those\nagainst which they possessed resources; and they would undeceive\nthemselves in regard to those supernatural means and those useless\nprayers of which the experience of so many ages ought to have disabused\nmen, if they were capable of correcting their religious prejudices.\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 most\ncontradictory to the very principles on which they pretend to establish\nthem. They change practices, arbitrary in themselves, or, at most,\nindifferent and useless, into important duties, which they proclaim the\nmost essential of all duties, and the most sacred and moral. They know\nthat man ceases to reason in proportion as he suffers or is wretched.\nHence, if he experiences real misfortunes, the priests make sure of him;\nif he is not unfortunate they menace him; they create imaginary fears\nand troubles.\n\nIn fine, Madam, when you wish to examine with your own eyes, and not by\nthe help of the pretensions set up and imposed on you by the ministers\nof religion, you will be compelled to acknowledge the things we have\nbeen considering as useful to the priests alone; they are useless to the\nDeity, and to society they are often very obviously pernicious. Of what\nutility can it be in any family to behold an excess of devotion in the\nmother of that family? One would suppose it is not necessary for a lady\nto pass all her time in prayers and in meditations, to the neglect\nof other duties. Much less is it the part of a Catholic mother to be\ncloseted in mystic conversation with her priest. Will her husband, her\nchildren, and her friends applaud her who loses most of her time in\nprayers, and meditations, and practices, which can tend only to render\nher sour, unhappy, and discontented? Would it not be much better that a\nfather or a mother of a family should be occupied with what belonged to\ntheir domestic affairs than to spend their time in masses, in hearing\nsermons, in meditating on mysterious and unintelligible dogmas, or\nboasting about exercises of piety that tend to nothing?\n\nMadam, do you not find in the country you inhabit a great many devotees\nwho are sunk in debt, whose fortune is squandered away on priests, and\nwho are incapable of retrieving it? Content to put their conscience to\nrights on religious matters, they neither trouble themselves about the\neducation of their children, nor the arrangement of their fortune, nor\nthe discharge of their debts. Such men as would be thrown into despair\ndid they omit one mass, will consent to leave their creditors without\ntheir money, ruined by their negligence as much as by their principles.\nIn truth, Madam, on what side soever you survey this religion, you will\nfind it good for nothing.\n\nWhat shall we say of those fetes which are so multiplied amongst us? Are\nthey not evidently pernicious to society? Are not all days the same to\nthe Eternal? Are there _gala_ days in heaven? Can God be honored by the\nbusiness of an artisan or a merchant, who, in place of earning bread on\nwhich his family may subsist, squanders away his time in the church, and\nafterwards goes to spend his money in the public house? It is necessary,\nthe priests will tell you, for man to have repose. But will he not seek\nrepose when he is fatigued by the labor of his hands? Is it not more\nnecessary that every man should labor in his vocation than go to a\ntemple to chant over a service which benefits only the priests, or hear\na sermon of which he can understand nothing? And do not such as find\ngreat scruple in doing a necessary labor on Sunday frequently sit down\nand get drunk on that day, consuming in a few hours the receipts of\ntheir week's labor? But it is for the interest of the clergy that all\nother shops should be shut when theirs are open. We may thence easily\ndiscover why fetes are necessary.\n\nIs it not contrary to all the notions which we can form of the goodness\nand wisdom of the Divinity, that religion should form into duties both\nabstinence and privations, or that penitences and austerities should be\nthe sole proofs of virtue? What should be said of a father who should\nplace his children at a table loaded with the fruits of the earth, but\nwho, nevertheless, should debar them from touching certain of them,\nthough both nature and reason dictated their use and nutriment? Can we,\nthen, suppose that a Deity wise and good interdicts to his creatures\nthe enjoyment of innocent pleasures, which may contribute to render life\nagreeable, or that a God who has created all things, every object the\nmost desirable to the nourishment and health of man, should nevertheless\nforbid him their use? The Christian religion appears to doom\nits votaries to the punishment of Tantalus. The most part of the\nsuperstitions in the world have made of God a capricious and jealous\nsovereign, who amuses himself by tempting the passions and exciting the\ndesires of his slaves, without permitting them the gratification of\nthe one or the enjoyment of the other. We see among all sects the\nportraiture of a chagrined Deity, the enemy of innocent amusements, and\noffended at the well being of his creatures. We see in all countries\nmany men so foolish as to imagine they will merit heaven by fighting\nagainst their nature, refusing the goods of fortune, and tormenting\nthemselves under an idea that they will thereby render themselves\nagreeable to God. Especially do they believe that they will by these\nmeans disarm the fury of God, and prevent the inflictions of his\nchastisements, if they immolate themselves to a being who always\nrequires victims.\n\nWe find these atrocious, fanatical, and senseless ideas in the Christian\nreligion, which supposes its God as cruel to exact sufferings from men\nas death from his only Son. If a God exempt from all sin is himself also\nthe sufferer for the sins of all, which is the doctrine of those who\nmaintain universal redemption, it is not surprising to see men that are\nsinners making it a duty to assemble in large meetings, and invent\nthe means of rendering themselves miserable. These gloomy notions have\nbanished men to the desert They have fanatically renounced society and\nthe pleasures of life, to be buried alive, believing they would merit\nheaven if they afflicted themselves with stripes and passed their\nexistence in mummical ceremonies, as injurious to their health as\nuseless to then-country. And these are the false ideas by which the\nDivinity is transformed into a tyrant as barbarous as insensible, who,\nagreeably to _priestcraft_, has prescribed how both men and women might\nlive in ennui, penitence, sorrow, and tears; for the perfection of\nmonastic institutions consists in the ingenious art of self-torture.\nBut sacerdotal 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 indeed\nthe favorites of heaven. But these monks, who follow these austere\nrules, are fanatics, who sacrifice themselves to the pride of the\nclergy who live in luxury and in wealth, although their duped, imbecile\nbrethren have been known to make it a point of honor to die of famine.\n\nHow often, Madam, has your attention not been aroused when you recalled\nto mind the fate of the poor religious men of the desert, whom an\nunnecessary vow has condemned, as it were voluntarily, to a life as\nrigorous as if spent in a prison! Seduced by the enthusiasm of youth, or\nforced by the orders of inhuman parents, they have been obliged to carry\nto the tomb the chains of their captivity. They have been obliged to\nsubmit without appeal to a stern superior, who finds no consolation in\nthe discharge of his slavish task but in making his empire more hard\nto those beneath him. You have seen unfortunate young ladies obliged\nto renounce their rank in society, the innocent pleasures of youth, the\njoys of their sex, to groan forever under a rigorous despotism, to which\nindiscreet vows had bound them. All monasteries present to us an odious\ngroup of fanatics, who have separated themselves from society to pass\nthe remainder of their lives in unhappiness. The society of these\ndevotees is calculated solely to render their lives mutually more\nunsupportable. But it seems strange that men should expect to merit\nheaven by suffering the torments of hell on earth; yet so it is,\nand reason has too often proved insufficient to convince them of the\ncontrary.\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 dictated\nby and acceptable to Heaven. What a ridiculous idea is it, for example,\nto make of the Deity a trio of persons; to teach the faithful that this\nDeity takes notice of what kinds of food his people eat; that he is\ndispleased if they eat beef or mutton, but that he is delighted if they\neat beans and fish! In good sooth, Madam, our priests, who sometimes\ngive us very lofty ideas of God, please themselves but too often with\nmaking 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 duties,\nand they who scrupulously observe them as the real favorites of the\nOmnipotent. What good can there result to the world from the abstinence\nof meats, so much enjoined on some Christians, especially when other\nChristians judge this injunction a very ridiculous law, and contrary\nto reason and the order of things established in nature? It is not\ndifficult to perceive amongst us that this injunction, openly violated\nby the rich, is an oppression on the poor, who are compelled to pay\ndearly for an indifferent, often an unwholesome diet, that injures\nrather than repairs the natural strength of their constitution. Besides,\ndo not the priests sell this permission to the rich, to transgress an\ninjunction the poor must not violate with impunity? In fine, they seem\nto have multiplied our practices, our duties, and our tortures, to have\nthe advantage of multiplying our faults, and making a good bargain out\nof 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 our\nspiritual 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; they\nhave thereby engendered in pious minds scruples and difficulties which\nthey condescendingly appease for money. A devotee is obliged to observe,\nwithout ceasing, the useless and frivolous rules of his priest, and even\nthen he is subject to continual reproaches; he is perpetually in want\nof his priest to expiate his pretended faults with which he charges\nhimself, and the omission of duties that he regards as the most\nimportant acts of his life, but which are rarely such as interest\nsociety or benefit it by their performance. By a train of religious\nprejudices with which the priests infect the mind of their weak\ndevotees, these believe themselves infinitely more culpable when they\nhave omitted some useless practice, than if they had committed some\ngreat 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 see\npersons who believe themselves damned if they forget a mass, if they eat\na fowl on Friday, if they neglect a confession, though they are guilty\nat the same time of great dereliction to society? Do they not hold the\nconduct of those very unjust, and very cruel, who happen to have the\nmisfortune of not thinking and doing as they think and act? These\npractices, out of which a great number of men have created essential\nduties, but too commonly absorb all moral duties; for if the devotees\nare over-religious, it is rare to find them virtuous. Content with doing\nwhat religion requires, they trouble themselves very little about other\nmatters. They believe themselves the favored of God, and that it is a\nproof of this if they are detested by men, whose good opinion they\nare seldom anxious to deserve. The whole life of a devotee is spent\nin fulfilling, with scrupulous exactitude, duties indifferent to God,\nunnecessary to himself, and useless to others. He fancies he is virtuous\nwhen he has performed the rites which his religion prescribes; when he\nhas meditated on mysteries of which he understands nothing; when he has\nstruggled with sadness to do things in which a man of sense can perceive\nno advantage; in fine, when he has endeavored to practise, as much as in\nhim lies, the Evangelical or Christian virtues, in which he thinks all\nmorality essentially consists.\n\nI shall proceed in my next letter to examine these virtues, and to prove\nto you that they are contrary to the ideas we ought to form of God,\nuseless to ourselves, and often dangerous to others. In the mean time, I\nam, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER VIII. Of Evangelical Virtues and Christian Perfection\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 unassisted\nreason of the human mind could never have conceived sounder doctrines of\nmorality, more heroical virtues, or precepts more beneficial to society.\nBut this is not all; the virtues known or practised among the heathens\nare considered as _false virtues_; far from deserving our esteem, and\nthe favor of the Almighty, they are entitled to nothing but contempt;\nand, indeed, are _flagrant sins_ in the sight of God. In short, the\npriests labor to convince us, that the Christian ethics are purely\ndivine, and the lessons inculcated so sublime, that they could proceed\nfrom 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 by\ndivine perfections are meant those qualities which are not only\nforeign to the nature of man, but which are irreconcilably repugnant to\nit,--then, indeed, we shall be compelled to acknowledge that the morals\nof Christianity are divine; at least we shall be assured that they have\nnothing in common with that system of morality which arises out of the\nnature and relations of men, but on the contrary, that they, in many\ninstances, confound the best conceptions we are able to form 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 and\nthe real advantage of those with whom we associate, and by the exercise\nof which our fellow-creatures are induced to feel a reciprocal interest\nin our welfare. Under the Christian system the name of virtues is\nbestowed upon dispositions which it is impossible to possess without\nsupernatural grace; and which, when possessed, are useless, if not\ninjurious, both to ourselves and others. The morality of Christians is,\nin good truth, the morality of another world. Like the philosopher of\nantiquity, they keep their eyes fixed upon the stars till they fall into\na well, unperceived, at their feet. The only object which their scheme\nof morals proposes to itself is, to disgust their minds with the things\nof this world, in order that they may place their entire affections upon\nthings above, of which they have no knowledge whatever; their happiness\nhere below forms no part of their consideration; this life, in the\nview of a Christian, is nothing but a pilgrimage, leading to another\nexistence, infinitely more interesting to his hopes, because infinitely\nbeyond the reach of his understanding. Besides, before we can deserve\nto be happy in the world which we do not know, we are informed that we\nmust be miserable in the world which we do know; and, above all things,\nin order to secure to ourselves happiness hereafter, it is especially\nnecessary that we altogether resign the use of our own reason; that\nis to say, we must seal up our eyes in utter darkness, and surrender\nourselves to the guidance of our priests. These are the principles upon\nwhich the fabric 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 vain\nfor us to seek the favor of the Deity. Of these virtues the first is\nFaith. According to the doctrine of the church, faith is the gift of\nGod, a supernatural virtue, by means of which we are inspired with a\nfirm belief in God, and in all that he has vouchsafed to reveal to man,\nalthough our reason is utterly unable to comprehend it. Faith is, says\nthe church, founded upon the word of God, who can neither deceive nor\nbe deceived. Thus faith supposes, that God has spoken to man--but what\nevidence have we that God has spoken to man? The Holy Scriptures. Who\nis it that assures us the Holy Scriptures contain the word of God? It is\nthe church. But who is it that assures us the church cannot and will not\ndeceive us? The Holy Scriptures. Thus the Scriptures bear witness to the\ninfallibility of the church--and the church, in return, testifies the\ntruth of the Scriptures. From this statement of the case, you must\nperceive, that faith is nothing more than an implicit belief in the\npriests, whose assurances we adopt as the foundation of opinions in\nthemselves incomprehensible. It is true, that as a confirmation of\nthe truth of Scripture, we are referred to miracles--but it is these\nidentical Scriptures which report to us and testify of those very\nmiracles. Of the absolute impossibility of any miracles, I flatter\nmyself that I have 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 have\ngiven you into the books which the Christians call sacred, must have\nleft 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 from\nthe earliest infancy to fill our tender minds with prepossessions in\nfavor of doctrines which they judged favorable to their own interests.\nInterested, however, as they are in the opinions which they endeavor to\nforce upon us as truth, is it possible for these priests to believe them\nthemselves? Unquestionably not--the thing is out of nature. They are men\nlike ourselves, furnished with the same faculties, and neither they nor\nwe can be convinced of any thing which lies equally beyond the scope of\nus all. If they possessed an additional sense, we should perhaps allow\nthat they might comprehend what is unintelligible to us; but as we\nclearly see that they have no intellectual privileges above the rest of\nthe species, we are compelled to conclude, that their faith, like the\nfaith of other Christians, is a blind acquiescence in opinions derived,\nwithout examination, from their predecessors; and that they must be\nhypocrites when they pretend to _believe_ in doctrines of the truth of\nwhich they cannot be _convinced_, since these doctrines have been shown\nto be destitute of that degree of evidence which is necessary to\nimpress the mind 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 whom\nGod has bestowed the favor. My answer is, that, if that be the case, we\nhave no alternative but to wait till the grace of God shall be shed\nupon us--and that in the mean time we may be allowed to doubt whether\ncredulity, stupidity, and the perversion of reason can proceed, as\nfavors, from a rational Deity who has endowed us with the power of\nthinking. If God be infinitely wise, how can folly and imbecility be\npleasing to him? If there were such a thing as faith, proceeding from\ngrace, it would be the privilege of seeing things otherwise than as God\nhas made them; and if that were so, it follows, that the whole creation\nwould be a mere cheat. No man can believe the Bible to be the production\nof God without doing violence to every consistent notion that he is able\nto form of Deity! No man can believe that one God is three Gods, and\nthat those three Gods are one God, without renouncing all pretension\nto common sense, and persuading himself that there is no such thing as\ncertainty 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,\nan irrational credulity, a brutish submission, a vague uncertainty,\na stupid ignorance, by which we are led to acquiesce, without\ninvestigation, in every dogma that our priests think fit to impose upon\nus--by which we are led to adopt, without knowing why, the pretended\nopinions of men who can have no better means of arriving at the truth\nthan we have. In short, we are authorized in suspecting that no motive\nbut that of blinding us, in order more effectually to deceive us, can\nactuate those men who are eternally preaching to us about a virtue\nwhich, if it could exist, would throw into utter confusion the simplest\nand 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 anathema\nagainst all unbelievers, and nothing less than absolute extermination\nof heresy can appease their anger wherever they have the strength to\naccomplish it. So that heretics and unbelievers are made accountable for\nthe grace of God, although they never received it; they are punished in\nthis world for those advantages which God has not been pleased to extend\nto them in their journey to the next. In the estimation of priests and\ndevotees, the want of faith is the most unpardonable of all offences--it\nis precisely that offence which, in the cruelty of their absurd\ninjustice, they visit with the last rigors of punishment, for you cannot\nbe ignorant, Madam, that in all countries where the clergy possess\nsufficient influence, the flames of priestly charity are lighted up\nto consume all those who are deficient in the prescribed allowance of\nfaith.\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 is\na dangerous and wicked wretch, a pest to--society. And, after all, is it\nour own choice to have faith? Can we believe just what we please? Does\nit depend upon ourselves not to think a proposition absurd which our\nunderstanding shows us to be absurd? How could we avoid receiving,\nin our infancy, whatever impressions and opinions our teachers and\nrelations chose to implant in us? And where is the man who can boast\nthat he has faith--that he is fully convinced of mysteries which he\ncannot conceive, and wonders which he cannot comprehend?\n\nUnder these circumstances how can faith be serviceable to morals? If no\none can have faith but upon the assurance of another, and consequently\ncannot entertain a real conviction, what becomes of the social virtues?\nAdmitting that faith were possible, what connection can exist between\nsuch occult speculations and the manifest duties of mankind, duties\nwhich are palpable to every one who, in the least, consults his reason,\nhis interest, or the welfare of the society to which he belongs?\nBefore I can be satisfied of the advantages of justice, temperance, and\nbenevolence, must I first believe in the Trinity, the Incarnation, the\nEucharist, and all the fables of the Old Testament? If I believe in\nall the atrocious murders attributed by the Bible to that God whom I am\nbound to consider as the fountain of justice, wisdom, and goodness, is\nit not likely that I shall feel encouraged to the commission of crimes\nwhen I find them sanctioned by such an example? Although unable to\ndiscover the value of so many mysteries which I cannot understand, or of\nso many fanciful and cumbersome ceremonies prescribed by the church,\nam I, on that account, to be denounced as a more dangerous citizen\nthan those who persecute, torment, and destroy every one of their\nfellow-creatures who does not think and act at their dictation? The\nevident result of all these considerations must be, that he who has\na lively faith and a blind zeal for opinions contradictory to common\nsense, is more irrational, and consequently more wicked than the man\nwhose mind is untainted by such detestable doctrines; for when once\nthe priests have gained their fatal ascendency over his mind, and have\npersuaded him that, by committing all sorts of enormities, he is doing\nthe work of the Lord, there can be no doubt that he will make greater\nhavoc in the happiness of the world, than the man whose reason tells him\nthat such excesses cannot 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\nthat unless 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 more\nnecessary, 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 nature\nof man, his true interests, and the end for which society is formed\nMan is a feeble being, whose necessities render him constantly dependent\nupon the support of others, whether it be for the preservation or the\npleasure of his existence; he has no means of interesting others in his\nwelfare except by his manner of conducting himself towards them; that\nconduct which renders him an object of affection to others is called\nvirtue--whatever is pernicious to society is called crime--and where the\nconsequences are injurious only to the individual himself, it is called\nvice. Thus every man must immediately perceive that he consults his own\nhappiness by advancing that of others that vices, however cautiously\ndisguised from public observation, are, nevertheless, fraught with\nruin to him who practises them--and that crimes are sure to render the\nperpetrator odious or contemptible in the eyes of his associates, who\nare necessary to his own happiness. In short, education, public opinion,\nand the laws point out to us our mutual duties much more clearly than\nthe chimeras of an incomprehensible 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 debar\nhimself from those gratifications which in their course would render his\nexistence miserable; and he would make sacrifices, if it was necessary,\nin the view of procuring himself advantages more real than those of\nwhich he momentarily deprived himself. Thus he would know what he owes\nto 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 experience\nand the universal reason of mankind. These precepts are compulsory upon\nour minds, for they show us that the consequences of our conduct flow\nfrom our actions with as natural and inevitable a certainty as the\nreturn of a stone to the earth after the impetus is exhausted which\ndetained it in the air. It is natural and inevitable that the man who\nemploys himself in doing good must be preferred to the man who does\nmischief. Every thinking being must be penetrated with the truth of this\nincontrovertible maxim, and all the ponderous volumes of theology that\never were composed can add nothing to the force of his conviction; every\nthinking being will, therefore, avoid a conduct calculated to injure\neither himself or others; he will feel himself under the necessity of\ndoing good to others, as the only method of obtaining solid happiness\nfor himself, and of conciliating to himself those sentiments on the part\nof others, without which he could derive no charms from society.\n\nYou perceive, then, Madam, that _faith_ cannot in any manner contribute\nto the correction of social conduct, and you will feel that the popular\nsuper-natural notions cannot add any thing to the obligations that\nour nature imposes upon us. In fact, the more mysterious and\nincomprehensible are the dogmas of the church, the more likely are\nthey to draw us aside from the plain dictates of Nature and the\nstraight-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\nthe duties 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 is\nthe instrument by which they enslave us and make us subservient to their\nown ambition. Hence arises their zeal for the propagation of the faith;\nhence arises their implacable hostility to science, and to all those who\nrefuse submission to their yoke; hence arises their incessant endeavor\nto establish the dominion of Faith, (that is to say, their own\ndominion,) even by fire and sword, the only arguments they condescend to\nemploy.\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 he\nwishes mankind to be convinced, it is sufficient that he wills them to\nbe so. It is utterly unworthy of the supreme wisdom of God, who cannot\nexhibit himself to mortals in a manner contradictory to the reason with\nwhich he has endowed them. It is unworthy of the divine justice, which\ncannot require from mankind to be convinced of that which they cannot\nunderstand. It denies the very existence of God himself, by inculcating\na belief totally subversive of the only rational idea we are able to\nform of the Divinity.\n\nAs it regards morality, faith is also useless. Faith cannot render\nit either 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 even\nincompatible 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 fonnd 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 squalid\nin their condition. But _Hope_--Hope, the second in order of the\nChristian perfections, is ever at hand to console us for the evils\ninflicted by Faith. We are commanded to be firmly convinced that those\nwho have faith, that is to say, those who believe in priests, shall be\namply rewarded in the other world for their meritorious submission in\nthis. Thus hope is founded on faith, in the same manner as faith is\nestablished upon hope; faith enjoins us to entertain a devout hope that\nour faith will be rewarded. And what is it we are told to hope for? For\nunspeakable benefits; that is, benefits for which language contains no\nexpression. So that, after all, we know not what it is we are to hope\nfor. And how can we feel a hope or even a wish for any object that is\nundefinable? How can priests incessantly speak to us of things of which\nthey, at the same time, acknowledge it is impossible for us to form any\nideas?\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 practice\nof virtue; it supports the unfortunate under the stroke of affliction;\nand consoles the believer in the hour of adversity. But what\nencouragement, what support, what consolation can be imparted to the\nmind from these undefined and undefinable shadows? No one, indeed, will\ndeny that hope is sufficiently useful to the priests, who never fail to\ncall in its assistance for the vindication of Providence, whenever any\nof the elect have occasion to complain of the unmerited hardship or\nthe transient injustice of his dispensations. Besides, these priests,\nnotwithstanding their beautiful systems, find themselves unable to\nfulfil the high-sounding promises they so liberally make to all the\nfaithful, and are frequently at a loss to explain the evils which they\nbring upon their flocks by means of the quarrels they engage in, and the\nfalse notions of religion they entertain; on these occasions the priests\nhave a standing appeal to hope, telling their dupes that man was not\ncreated for this world, that heaven is his home, and that his sufferings\nhere will be counterbalanced by indescribable bliss hereafter. Thus,\nlike quacks, whose nostrums have ruined the health of their patients,\nthey have still left to themselves the advantage of selling hopes to\nthose whom they know themselves unable to cure. Our priests resemble\nsome of our physicians, who begin by frightening us into our complaints,\nin order that they may make us customers for the hopes which\nthey afterwards sell to us for their weight in gold. This traffic\nconstitutes, in reality, all that is called religion. The third of the\nChristian virtues is _Charity_; that is, to love God above all things,\nand our neighbors as ourselves. But before we are required to love God\nabove all things, it seems reasonable that religion should condescend\nto represent him as worthy of our love. In good faith, Madam, is it\npossible to feel that the God of the Christians is entitled to our\nlove? Is it possible to feel any other sentiments than those of\naversion towards a partial, capricious, cruel, revengeful, jealous,\nand sanguinary tyrant? How can we sincerely love the most terrible of\nbeings,--the living God, into whose hands it is dreadful to think\nof falling,--the God who can consign to eternal damnation those very\ncreatures who, without his own consent, would never have existed? Are\nour theologians aware of what they say, when they tell us that the fear\nof God is the fear of a child for its parent, which is mingled with\nlove? Are we not bound to hate, can we by any means avoid detesting, a\nbarbarous father, whose injustice is so boundless as to punish the\nwhole human race, though innocent, in order to revenge himself upon two\nindividuals for the sin of the apple, which sin he himself might have\nprevented if he had thought proper? In short, Madam, it is a physical\nimpossibility to love above all things a God whose whole conduct, as\ndescribed in the Bible, fills us with a freezing horror. If, therefore,\nthe love of God, as the Jansenists assert, is indispensable to\nsalvation, we cannot wonder to find that the elect are so few. Indeed,\nthere are not many persons who can restrain themselves from hating this\nGod; and the doctrine of the Jesuits is, that to abstain from hating\nhim is sufficient 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\nto love 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 resembles\nthat of hypocritical flatterers, who, in order to ingratiate themselves\nwith an odious tyrant, or to escape his resentment, make every\nprofession of attachment, whilst, at the bottom of their hearts,\nthey execrate him; or, on the other hand, they must be condemned as\nenthusiasts, who, by means of a heated imagination, become the dupes of\ntheir own illusions, and only view the favorable side of a God declared\nto be the fountain of all good, yet, nevertheless, constantly delineated\nto us with every feature of wickedness. Devotees, when sincere, are like\nwomen given up to the infatuation of a blind passion by which they are\nenamoured with lovers rejected by the rest of the sex as unworthy of\ntheir affection. It was said by Madame de Sevigne that she loved God\nas a perfectly well-bred gentleman, with whom she had never been\nacquainted. But can the God of the Christians be esteemed a well-bred\ngentleman? Unless her head was turned, one would think that she must\nhave been cured of her passion by the slightest reference to her\nimaginary lover's portrait as drawn in the Bible, or as it is spread\nupon the canvas of our theological artists. With regard to the love of\nour neighbor, where was the necessity of religion to teach us our duty,\nwhich as men we cannot but feel, of cherishing sentiments of good will\ntowards each other? It is only by showing in our conduct an affectionate\ndisposition to others that we can produce in them correspondent feelings\ntowards ourselves. The simple circumstance of being men is quite\nsufficient to give us a claim upon the heart of every man who is\nsusceptible of the sweet sensibilities of our nature. Who is better\nacquainted than yourself, Madam, with this truth? Does not your\ncompassionate soul experience at every moment the delightful\nsatisfaction of solacing the unhappy? Setting aside the superfluous\nprecepts of religion, think you that you could by any efforts steel your\nheart against the tears of the unfortunate? Is it not by rendering our\nfellow-creatures happy that we establish an empire in their hearts?\nEnjoy, then, Madam, this delightful sovereignty; continue to bless with\nyour beneficence all that surround you; the consciousness of being the\ndispenser of so much good will always sustain your mind with the most\ngratifying self-applause; those who have received your kindness will\nreward you with their blessings, and afford you the tribute of affection\nwhich mankind are ever eager to lay at the feet of their benefactors.\n\nChristianity, not satisfied with recommending the love of our neighbor,\nsuperadds the injunction of loving our enemies. This precept, attributed\nto the Son of God himself, forms the ground on which our divines claim\nfor their religion a superiority of moral doctrine over all that the\nphilosophers of antiquity were known to teach. Let us, therefore,\nexamine how far this precept admits of being reduced to practice. True,\nan elevated mind may easily place itself above a sense of injuries; a\nnoble spirit retains no resentful recollections; a great soul revenges\nitself by a generous clemency; but it is an absurd contradiction to\nrequire that a man shall entertain feelings of tenderness and regard\nfor those whom he knows to be bent on his destruction; this love of our\nenemies, which Christianity is so vain of having promulgated, turns out,\nthen, to be an impracticable commandment, belied and denied by every\nChristian at every moment of his life. How preposterous to talk of\nloving that which annoys us!--of cherishing an attachment for that which\ngives us pain!--of receiving an outrage with joy!--of loving those who\nsubject us to misery and suffering! No; in the midst of these trials our\nfirmness may perhaps be strengthened by the hope of a reward hereafter;\nbut it is a mere fallacy to talk of our entertaining a sincere love for\nthose whom we deem the authors of our afflictions; the least that we\ncan do is to avoid them, which will not be looked upon as a very strong\nindication 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 the\ntroublesome necessity of adopting for their own conduct a too literal\ninterpretation of this divine law. They have invented a most convenient\nsalvo, since they affect to exclude all those who do not profess to\nthink as they dictate, not only from the kindness of neighbors, but\neven from the rights of fellow-creatures. On this principle they defame,\npersecute, and destroy every one who displeases them. When do you see a\npriest forgive? When revenge is out of his reach! But it is never their\nown injuries they punish; it is never their own enemies they seek to\nexterminate. Their disinterested indignation burns with resentment\nagainst the enemies of the Most High, who, without their assistance,\nwould be incapable of adjusting his own quarrels! By an unaccountable\ncoincidence, however, it is sure to happen that the enemies of the\nchurch are the enemies of the Most High, who never fails to make common\ncause with the ministers of the faith, and who would take it extremely\nill if his ministers should relax in the measure of punishment due to\ntheir common enemy. Thus our priests are cruel and revengeful from pure\nzeal; they would ardently wish to forgive their own enemies, but how\ncould they justify themselves to the God of Mercies if they extended the\nleast indulgence to his enemies?\n\nA true Christian loves the Creator above all things, and consequently he\nmust love him in preference to the creature. We feel a lively interest\nin every thing that concerns the object of our love; from all which, it\nfollows that we must evince our zeal, and even, when necessary, we must\nnot hesitate to exterminate our neighbor, if he says or does what is\ndispleasing or injurious to God. In such case, indifference would be\ncriminal; a sincere love of God breaks out into a holy ardor in his\ncause, and our merit rises in proportion to our violence.\n\nThese notions, absurd as they are, have been sufficient in every age to\nproduce in the world a multitude of crimes, extravagances, and follies,\nthe legitimate offspring of a religious zeal. Infatuated fanatics,\nexasperated by priests against each other, have been driven into mutual\nhatred, persecution, and destruction; they have thought themselves\ncalled upon to avenge the Almighty; they have carried their insane\ndelusions so far as to persuade themselves that the God of clemency and\ngoodness could look on with pleasure while they murdered their brethren;\nin the astonishing blindness of their stupidity, they have imagined that\nin defending the temporalities of the church, they were defending\nGod himself. In pursuance of these errors, contradicted even by the\ndescription which they themselves give us of the Divinity, the priests\nof every age have found means to introduce confusion into the peaceful\nhabitations of men, and to destroy all who dared to resist their\ntyranny. Under the laughable idea of revenging the all-powerful Creator,\nthese priests have discovered the secret of revenging themselves,\nand that, too, without drawing down upon themselves the hatred and\nexecration so justly due to their vindictive fury and unfeeling\nselfishness. In the name of the God of nature, they stifled the voice of\nnature in the breasts of men; in the name of the God of goodness,\nthey incited men to the fury of wild beasts; in the name of the God of\nmercies, they prohibited all forgiveness! It is thus, Madam, that the\nearth has never ceased to groan with the ravages committed by maniacs\nunder the influence of that zeal which springs from the Christian\ndoctrine of the love of God. The God of the Christians, like the Janus\nof Roman mythology, has two faces; sometimes he is represented with the\nbenign features of mercy and goodness; sometimes murder, revenge, and\nfury issue from his nostrils. And what is the consequence of this double\naspect but that the Christians are much more easily terrified at his\nfrightful lineaments than they are recovered from their fears by his\naspect of mercy! Having been taught to view him as a capricious being,\nthey are naturally mistrustful of him, and imagine that the safest part\nthey can 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, who\narrogate to themselves the exclusive privilege of declaring when God is\noffended; who absorb all the offerings and monopolize all the homage of\nthe devout; who decide upon the opinions that please or displease him;\nwho undertake to inform mankind of the duties this virtue requires from\nthem, and of the proper time and manner of performing them; who are\ninterested in rendering those duties cruel and intimidating in order to\nfrighten mankind into a profitable subjection; who convert it into the\ninstrument of gratifying their own malignant passions, by inspiring men\nwith a spirit of headlong and raging intolerance, which, in its furious\ncourse of indiscriminate destruction, holds nothing sacred, and which\nhas inflicted incredible ravages 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\nof God. Having admitted the paramount duty of yielding their entire\naffections to a rigorous master, quick to resent, and offended even with\nthe involuntary thoughts and opinions of his creatures, they of course\nfeel themselves bound, by entering with zeal into his quarrels, to\nobtain for him a vengeance worthy of a God--that is to say, a vengeance\nthat knows no bounds. A conduct like this is the natural offspring of\nthose revolting ideas which our priests give us of the Deity. A\ngood Christian is therefore necessarily intolerant. It is true that\nChristianity in the pulpit preaches nothing but mildness, meekness,\ntoleration, peace, and concord; but Christianity in the world is a\nstranger to all these virtues; nor does she ever exercise them except\nwhen she is deficient in the necessary power to give effect to her\ndestructive zeal. The real truth of the matter is, that Christians think\nthem selves absolved from every tie of humanity except with those who\nthink as they do, who profess to believe the same creed; they have a\nrepugnance, more or less decided, against all those who disagree with\ntheir priests in theological speculation. How common it is to see\npersons of the mildest character and most benevolent disposition regard\nwith aversion the adherents of a different sect from their own! The\nreigning religion--that is, the religion of the sovereign, or of the\npriests in whose favor the sovereign declares himself--crushes all rival\nsects, or, at least, makes them fully sensible of its superiority and\nits hatred, in a manner extremely insulting, and calculated to raise\ntheir indignation. By these means it frequently happens that the\ndeference of the prince to the wishes of the priests has the effect of\nalienating the hearts of his most faithful subjects, and brings him\nthat execration which ought in justice to be heaped exclusively upon his\nsanctimonious instigators.\n\nIn short, Madam, the private rights of conscience are nowhere sincerely\nrespected; the leaders of the various religious sects begin, in the very\ncradle, to teach all Christians to hate and despise each other about\nsome theological point which nobody can understand. The clergy, when\nvested with power, never preach toleration; on the contrary, they\nconsider every man as an enemy who is a friend to religious freedom,\naccusing him of lukewarm-ness, infidelity, and secret hostility; in\nshort, he is denominated a false brother. The Sorbonne declared, in the\nsixteenth century, that it was heretical to say that heretics ought\nnot to be burned. The ferocious St. Austin preached toleration at one\nperiod, but it was before he was duly initiated in the mysteries of the\nsacerdotal policy, which is ever repugnant to toleration. Persecution is\nnecessary to our priests, to deter mankind from opposing themselves to\ntheir avarice, their ambition, their vanity, and their obstinacy. The\nsole principle which holds the church together is that of a sleepless\nwatchfulness on the part of all its members to extend its power, to\nincrease the multitude of its slaves, to fix odium on all who hesitate\nto bend their necks to its yoke, or who refuse their assent to its\narbitrary 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\nown unworthiness, 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? How\ncan a man of sense and integrity despise himself? Is not public opinion\nthe guardian of private virtue? If you deprive men of the love of glory,\nand the desire of deserving the approbation of their fellow-citizens,\nare you not divesting them of the noblest and most powerful incitements\nby which they can be impelled to benefit their country? What recompense\nwill remain to the benefactors of mankind, if, first of all, we are\nunjust enough to refuse them the praise they merit, and afterwards debar\nthem from the satisfaction of self-applause, and the happiness they\nwould feel in the consciousness of having done good to an ungrateful\nworld? What infatuation, what amazing infatuation, to require a man\nof upright character, of talents, intelligence, and learning, to think\nhimself on a level with a selfish priest, or a stupid fanatic, who deal\nout their absurd fables and incoherent, dreams!\n\nOur priests are never weary of telling their flocks that pride leads on\nto infidelity, and that a humble and submissive spirit is alone fitted\nto receive the truths of the gospel. In good earnest, should we not\nbe utterly bereft of every claim to the name of rational beings, if we\nconsent to surrender our judgment and our knowledge at the command of a\nhierarchy, who have nothing to give us in exchange but the most palpable\nabsurdities? With what face can a reverend Doctor of Nonsense dare\nto exact from my understanding a humble acquiescence in a bundle of\nmysterious opinions, for which he is unable to offer me a single solid\nreason? Is it, then, presumptuous to think one's self superior to a\nclass of pretenders, whose systems are a mass of falsities, absurdities,\nand inconsistencies, of which they contrive to make mankind at once the\ndupes and the victims? Can pride or vanity be, with justice, imputed\nto you, Madam, if you see reason to prefer the dictates of your own\nunderstanding to the authoritative decrees of Mrs. D------, whose\nsenseless malignity is obvious to all her acquaintance?\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 stifle\nin their souls every spark of science and of courage, that they may the\nmore easily impose the yoke of faith, that is to say, their own yoke.\nConclude, then, with me, that the Christian virtues are chimerical,\nalways useless, and sometimes pernicious to men, and attended with\nadvantage to none but priests. Conclude that this religion, with all the\nboasted beauty of its morality, recommends to us a set of virtues, and\nenjoins a line of conduct, at variance with good sense. Conclude that,\nin order to be moral and virtuous, it is far from necessary to adopt\nthe unintelligible creed of the priests, or to pride ourselves upon the\nempty virtues they preach, and still less to annihilate all sense of\ndignity in ourselves, by a degrading subjection to the duties they\nrequire. Conclude, in short, that the friend of virtue is not, of\nnecessity, the friend of priestcraft, and that a man may be adorned with\nevery human perfection, without possessing 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 that\nCreator as partial, choleric, revengeful, and fickle, easily incensed\nagainst us, even by our involuntary thoughts, or our most innocent words\nand actions; such a man naturally conducts himself with contempt and\npride, with harshness and barbarity towards all others whom he may deem\nobnoxious to the resentment of his Heavenly King. Those men, whose folly\nleads them to view the Deity in the light of a capricious, irritable,\nand unappeasable despot, can be nothing but gloomy and trembling slaves,\never eager to anticipate the vengeance of God upon all whose conduct\nor opinions they may conceive likely to provoke the celestial wrath.\nAs soon as the priests have succeeded in reducing men to a state of\nstupidity gross enough to make them believe that their ghostly fathers\nare the faithful organs of the divine will, they naturally commit every\nspecies of crime, which their spiritual teachers may please to tell\nthem is calculated to pacify the anger of their offended God. Men,\nsilly enough to accept a system of morals from guides thus hollow in\nreasoning, and thus discordant in opinion, must necessarily be unstable\nin their principles, and subject to every variation that the interest\nof their guides may suggest. In short, it is impossible to construct a\nsolid morality, if we take for our foundation the attributes of a deity\nso unjust, so capricious, and so changeable as the God of the Bible,\nwhom we are commanded to imitate and 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. Of the advantages contributed to Government by Religion\n\nHaving already shown you, Madam, the feebleness of those succors which\nreligion furnishes to morals, I shall now proceed to examine whether it\nprocure 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 shut\nour eyes, and deliver ourselves up to the language of our priests,\nwe should believe that their opinions are necessary to the public\ntranquillity, and the repose and security of the State; that princes\ncould not, without their aid, govern the people, and exert themselves\nfor the prosperity of their empire. Nor is this all; our spiritual\npilots approach the throne, and gaining the ear of the sovereign, make\nhim also believe that he has the greatest interest in conforming to\ntheir caprices, in order to subject men to the divine yoke of royalty.\nThese priests mingle in all important political quarrels, and they too\noften persuade the rulers of the earth that the enemies of the church\nare the enemies of all power, and that in sapping the foundations of\nthe altar, the foundations of the throne are likewise necessarily\noverthrown.\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 seen,\nin all the countries in which this religion has gained ground, that\ntwo rival powers are perpetually at war one with the other. We find _a_\ngovernment within _the_ government; that is to say, we find the Church,\na body of priests, continually opposed to the sovereign power, and\nin virtue of their pretended _divine_ mission and _sacred_ office,\npretending to give laws to all the sovereigns of the earth. We find\nthe clergy, puffed up and besotted with the titles they have given\nthemselves, laboring to exact the obedience due to the sovereign,\npretending to chimerical and dangerous prerogatives, which none are\nsuffered to question, without risking the displeasure of the Almighty.\nAnd so well have the priesthood managed this matter, that in many\ncountries 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 intolerant\nhierarchy.\n\nSuch are the important services which religion has a thousand times\nrendered to kings. The people, blinded by superstition, could hesitate\nbut little between God and the princes of the earth. The priests, being\nthe visible organs of an invisible monarch, have acquired an immense\ncredit with prejudiced minds. The ignorance of the people places them,\nas well as their sovereigns, at the mercy of the priests. Nations have\ncontinually been dragged into their futile though bloody quarrels;\nprinces, for a long series of years, have either had to dispute their\nauthority with the clergy, or become their tools or dupes.\n\nThe continual attention which the princes of Europe have been forced to\npay to the clergy has prevented them from occupying their thoughts about\nthe welfare of their subjects, who, in many instances the dupes of the\npriesthood, 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\nthey have wished to resist the encroachments of the clergy, they have\nencountered concealed snares or open opposition, as the _holy_ power was\neither too weak to act in the face of day, or strong enough to contend\nin the sunshine. When princes have wished to be listened to by the\nclergy, these last have invariably contrived to make them cowardly, and\nto sacrifice the happiness and respect of their people. Often have the\nhands of parricides and rebels been armed, by a proud and vindictive\npriesthood, against sovereigns the most worthy of reigning. The priests,\nunder pretext of avenging God, inflict their anger upon monarchs\nthemselves, whenever the latter are found indisposed to bend under their\nyoke. In a word, in _all_ countries we perceive that the ministers of\nreligion have exercised in all ages the most unbridled license. We every\nwhere see empires torn by their dissensions; thrones overturned by their\nmachinations; princes immolated to their power and revenge; subjects\nanimated to revolt against the prince that ought to give them more\nhappiness than they actually enjoyed; and when we take the retrospect of\nthese, we find that the ambition, the cupidity, and vanity of the clergy\nhave been the true causes and motives of all these outrages on the\npeace of the universe. And it is thus that their religion has so often\nproduced anarchy, and overturned the very empires they pretended to\nsupport by its 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 degree\nas to make him her hangman; she obliged him to execute her sanguinary\ndecrees; she forced him to dip his hands in the blood of his own\nsubjects whom the clergy had proscribed; she made him the visible\ninstrument of her vengeance, her fury, and her concealed passions.\nInstead of occupying himself with the happiness of his people, the\nsovereign has had the complaisance to torment, to persecute, and to\nimmolate honest citizens, thus exciting the just hatred of a portion\nof his people, to whom he should have been a father, to gratify the\nambition and the selfish malevolence of some priests, always aliens in\nthe state which nourishes them, and who only style themselves members of\nthe realm in order to domineer, to distract, to plunder, and to devour\nwith 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 enlightened,\nnations are not secure from the shocks that the priests have ever caused\nnations to suffer. You have a hundred times sighed at the sight of the\nsad follies which puerile questions have produced among us. You have\nshuddered at the frightful consequences which have resulted from the\nunreasonable squabbles of the clergy. You have trembled with all good\ncitizens at the sight of the tragical effects which have been brought\nabout by the furious wickedness of a fanaticism for which nothing is\nsacred. In fine, you have seen the sovereign authority compelled to\nstruggle incessantly against rebellious subjects, who pretend that their\nconscience or the interests of religion have obliged them to resist\nopinions the most agreeable 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 the\nblood of murdered citizens; two monarchs successively immolated to the\nfury of the clergy, who kindled in all parts the fire of sedition. They\nafterwards saw kings at war with their own subjects; a famous sovereign,\nLouis XIV., tarnishing all his glory by persecuting, contrary to the\nfaith of treaties, subjects who would have lived tranquil, if they had\nonly been allowed to enjoy in peace the liberty of conscience; and they\nsaw, in fine, this same prince, the dupe of a false policy, dictated by\nintolerance, banish, along with the exiled Protestants, the industry of\nhis states, and forcing the arts and manufactures of our nation to take\nrefuge in the dominions of our most implacable enemies.\n\nWe see religion throughout Europe, without cessation, exerting a baleful\ninfluence upon temporal affairs; we see it direct the interests of\nprinces; we see it divide and make Christian nations enemies of each\nother, because their spiritual guides do not all entertain the same\nopinions. Germany is divided into two religious parties whose interests\nare perpetually at variance. We every where perceive that Protestants\nare born the enemies of the Catholics, and are always in antagonism to\nthem; while, on the other hand, the Catholics are leagued with their\npriests against all those whose mode of thinking is less abject and less\nservile than their own.\n\nBehold, Madam, the signal advantages that nations derive from religion!\nBut we are certain to be told that these terrible effects are due to the\npassions of men, and not to the Christian religion, which incessantly\ninculcates charity, concord, indulgence, and peace. If, however, we\nreflect even a moment on the principles of this religion, we should\nimmediately perceive that they are incompatible with the fine maxims\nthat have never been practised by the Christian priests, except when\nthey lacked the power to persecute their enemies and inflict upon them\nthe weight of their rage. The adorers of a jealous God, vindictive and\nsanguinary, as is obviously the character of the God of the Jews and\nChristians, could not evince in their conduct moderation, tranquillity,\nand humanity. The adorers of a God who takes offence at the opinions of\nhis weak creatures, who reprobates and glories in the extermination of\nall who do not worship him in a particular way, for the which, by\nthe by, he gives them neither the means nor the inclination, must\nnecessarily be intolerant persecutors. The adorers of a God who has not\nthought fit to illuminate with an equal portion of light the minds of\nall his creatures, who reveals his favor and bestows his kindness on a\nfew only 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\nthe rest 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 then\nbe astonished if, since the origin of Christianity, our priests have\nnever been a single moment without disputes. It appears that God only\nsent his Son upon earth that his marvellous doctrines might prove an\napple of discord both for his priests and his adorers. The ministers of\na church founded by Christ himself, who promised to send them his Holy\nSpirit to lead them into all the truth, have never been in unison\nwith their dogmas. We have seen this infallible church for whole ages\nenveloped in error. You know, Madam, that in the fourth century, by the\nacknowledgment of the priests themselves, the great body of the church\nfollowed the opinions of the Arians, who disavowed even the divinity\nof Jesus Christ. The spirit of God must then have abandoned his church;\nelse why did its ministers fall into this error, and dispute afterwards\nabout so fundamental a dogma of the Christian religion?\n\nNotwithstanding these continual quarrels, the church arrogates to itself\nthe right of fixing the faith of the _true believers_, and in this it\npretends to infallibility; and if the Protestant parsons have renounced\nthe lofty and ridiculous pretensions of their Catholic brethren, they\nare not less certain in the infallibility of their decisions; for they\ntalk with the authority of oracles, and send to hell and damnation all\nwho do not yield submission to their dogmas. Thus on both sides of the\ncross they wish their assertions to be received by their adherents as\nif they came direct from heaven. The priests have always been at discord\namong themselves, and have perpetually cursed, anathematized, and doomed\neach other to hell. The vanity of each holy clique has caused it to\nadhere obstinately to its own peculiar opinions, and to treat its\nadversaries as heretics. Violence alone has generally decided the\ndiscussions, terminated the disputes, and fixed the standard of belief.\nThose pugnacious, brawling priests who were artful enough to enlist\nsovereigns on their side were _orthodox_, or, in other words, boasted\nthat they were the exclusive possessors of the true doctrine. They made\nuse of their credit to crush their adversaries, whom they always treated\nwith the greatest barbarity.\n\nBut, after all, whatever the clergy may say, we shall find, even with a\nsmall share of attention, that it has ever been kings and emperors who,\nin the last resort, fixed the faith of the disputatious Christians. It\nhas been by downright blows of the sword that those theological notions\nmost pleasing to the Deity have been sustained in all countries.\nThe true belief has invariably been that which had princes for its\nadherents. The faithful were those who had strength sufficient to\nexterminate their enemies, whom they never failed to treat as the\nenemies of God. In a word, princes have been truly infallible; we should\nregard them as the true founders of religious faith; they are the judges\nwho have decided, in all ages, what doctrines should be admitted or\nrejected; and they are, in fine, the authorities which have always fixed\nthe religion of their subjects.\n\nEver since Christianity has been adopted by some nations, have we\nnot seen that religion has almost entirely occupied the attention of\nsovereigns? Either the princes, blinded by superstition, were devoted to\nthe priests, or the rulers of nations believed that prudence exacted\na concession on their part to the clergy, the true masters of their\npeople, who considered nothing more sacred or more great than the\nministers 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 all\ntheir sins by founding monasteries and giving immense wealth to a set of\nmen who had made vows of poverty. It was believed that they would merit\nfrom the All-powerful a great advantage by recompensing laziness, which,\nin the priests, was regarded as a great good, and that the blessings\nprocured by their prayers would be in proportion to the continual and\npressing demands their poverty made on the wealthy. It is thus that by\nthe superstition of princes, by that of the powerful classes, and of\nthe people themselves, the clergy have become opulent and powerful;\nthat monachism was honored, and citizens the most useless, the least\nsubmissive, and the most dangerous, were the best recompensed, the\nmost considered, and the best paid. They were loaded with benefits,\nprivileges, and immunities; they enjoyed independence, and they had that\ngreat power which flowed from so great license. Thus were priests placed\nabove sovereigns themselves by the imprudent devotion of the latter,\nand the former were, enabled to give the law and trouble the state with\nimpunity.\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 war 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 could\nshake or even destroy at pleasure. There was a time in Europe when both\nthe welfare of the prince and the repose of his kingdom depended solely\nupon the caprice of a priest. In these times of ignorance, of devotion,\nand of commotions so favorable to the clergy, a weak and poor monarch,\nsurrounded by a miserable nation, was at the mercy of a Roman pontiff,\nwho could at any instant destroy his felicity, excite his subjects\nagainst him, and precipitate him into the 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 disappears\nas soon as he displeases the self-styled vicegerents of God, who\nare very soon able to array his subjects against him. The people,\nin accordance with the principles of their religion, cannot hesitate\nbetween God and their sovereign. God never says any thing except what\nhis priests say for him; and the ignorance and folly in which they are\nkept by their spiritual guides prevent them from inquiring whether God's\nambassadors 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\nthe Christian religion, who in all ages have been the most turbulent\ncitizens, the most rebellious, the most difficult to render subservient\nto law and order, and whose resistance has extended to the very\nassassination of obnoxious rulers. We shall be told that Christianity is\na firm support of government; that it regards magistrates as the images\nof the Deity; and that it teaches that _all power comes from on high_.\nThese maxims of the clergy are, however, best calculated to lull kings\non the couch of slumber; they are calculated to flatter those on whom\nthe clergy can rely, and who will serve their ambition; and their\nflatterers can soon change their tone when the princes have the temerity\nto question the pernicious tendency of priestly influence, or when they\ndo not blindly lend themselves to all their views. Then the sovereign\nis an impious wretch, a heretic; his destruction is laudable; heaven\nrejoices in his overthrow. And all this 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 arrogantly\nthat the former ought to be exterminated, when they refuse to obey the\nchurch, that is to say, the priests; yet, how terrible soever may be\nthese maxims, how dangerous soever their practice to the security of\nthe sovereign and the tranquillity of the state, they are the immediate\nconsequences drawn from Judaism and Christianity. We find in the Old\nTestament that the regicide is applauded; that treason and rebellion\nare approved. As soon as it is supposed that God is offended with\nthe thoughts of men,--as soon as it is supposed that heretics are\ndispleasing to him,--it is very natural to conclude that an impious and\nheretical sovereign, that is to say, one who does not obey a clerical\nbody that set themselves up as the directors of his belief, who opposes\nthe sacred views of an infallible church, and who might occasion the\nloss and apostasy of a large part of the nation,--it is natural that the\npriests should conclude it to be legitimate for subjects to attack such\na prince, alleging their religion to be the most important thing in the\nworld, and dearer than life itself. Actuated by such principles, it\nis impossible that a Christian zealot should not think he rendered a\nservice to heaven by punishing its enemy, and a service to his country\nby disembarrassing it of a chief who might interpose an obstacle to his\neternal happiness.\n\nThe obedience of the clergy is never otherwise than conditional. The\npriests submit to a prince, they flatter his power, and they sustain his\nauthority, provided he submits to their orders, makes no obstacles to\ntheir projects, touches none of their interests, and changes none of\nthe dogmas upon which the ministers of the church have founded their own\ngrandeur. In fine, provided a government recognizes, as divine, clerical\nprivileges that are plainly opposed to popular rights, and tend to\nsubvert them, the hierarchy will submit to it These considerations prove\nhow dangerous are the priesthood, since the end they purpose by all\ntheir projects is dominion over the mind of mankind, and by subjugating\nit to enslave their persons, and render them the creatures of despotism\nand tyranny. And we shall find, upon examination, that, with one or two\nexceptions, the pious have been the enemies of the progress of science\nand the development of the human understanding; for by brutalizing\nmankind they have invariably striven to bind them to their yoke. Their\navarice, their thirst of power and wealth, have led them to plunge\ntheir fellow-citizens in ignorance, in misery, and unhappiness. They\ndiscourage the cultivation of the earth by their system of tithes,\ntheir extortions, and their secret projects; they annihilate activity,\ntalents, and industry; their pride is to reign on the ruin of the rest\nof their species. The finest countries in Europe have, when blindly\nsubmissive to the priests, been the worst cultivated, the thinnest\npeopled, and the most wretched. The _Inquisition_ in Spain, Italy, and\nPortugal has only tended to impoverish those countries, to debase the\nmind, and render their subjects the veriest slaves of superstition. And\nin countries where we see heaven showering down abundance, the people\nare poor and famished, while the priests and monks are opulent and\nbloated. Their kings are without power and without glory; their subjects\nlanguish in indigence and 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 neither\ninstruction nor peace, prosperity nor happiness, their pretensions\nto teach the rising generations are often frivolous, and sometimes\narrogant, since we have found others equally well calculated to the\ndischarge of those functions, who have been good citizens, that have not\ndrawn from the pockets of their neighbors the tenth of their earnings.\nThus, in what light soever we view them, the pretensions of the priests\nare reduced to a nonentity, compared to the disservice they render the\ncommunity 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 youth?\nDoes it tend to make reasonable, courageous, and virtuous citizens? No;\nit is incontestable that it creates ignoble men, whose entire lives are\ntormented with imaginary terrors; it creates superstitious slaves, who\nonly possess monastic virtues, and who, if they follow faithfully the\ninstructions of their masters, must be perfectly useless to society; it\nforms intolerant devotees, ready to detest all those who do not think\nlike themselves; and it makes fanatics, who are ready to rebel against\nany government as soon as they are persuaded it is rebellious to the\nchurch. What do the priests teach their pupils? They cause them to\nlose much precious time in reciting prayers, in mechanically repeating\ntheological dogmas, of which, even in mature life, they comprehend\nnothing. They teach them the dead languages, which, at the best, only\nserve for entertainment, being by no means necessary in the present form\nof society. They terminate these fine studies by a philosophy which, in\nclerical hands, has become a mere play of words, a jargon void of sense,\nand which is exactly calculated to fit them for the unintelligible\nscience called _theology_. But is this theology itself useful to\nnations? Are the interminable disputes which arise between profound\nmetaphysicians of such a character as to be interesting to the people\nwho do not comprehend them? Are the people of Paris and the provinces\nmuch advanced in heavenly knowledge when the priests dispute among\nthemselves 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 boasted\ninstruction consists in teaching ineffable mysteries, marvellous dogmas,\nnarrations and fables perfectly ridiculous, panic terrors, fanatical\nand lugubrious predictions, frightful menaces, and above all, systems\nso profound that they who announce are not able to comprehend them. In\ntruth, Madam, in all this I can see nothing useful. Should nations feel\nany extraordinary obligations to teachers who concoct doctrines that\nmust always remain impenetrable for the whole human race? It must\nbe confessed that our priests, who so painfully occupy themselves in\narranging a pure creed for us, must signally lose all their labor. At\nany rate, the people are not much in the situation to profit by such\nsublime toils. Very frequently the pulpit becomes the theatre of\ndiscord; the sacred disclaimers launch injuries at each other, infusing\ntheir own passions into the bosoms of their _Christian_ auditors,\nkindling their zeal against the enemies of the church, and becoming\nthemselves the trumpets of party spirit, fury, and sedition. If these\npreachers teach morality, it is a kind of supernatural morality, little\nadapted to the nature of man. If they inculcate virtue, it is that\ntheological virtue whose inutility we have sufficiently shown. If by\nchance some one among them allows himself to preach that morality and\nvirtue which is practical, human, and social, you know, Madam, that\nhe is proscribed by his confederates, and becomes an object of their\nacrimonious criticisms and their deadly hatred. He is also disdained\nby devotees who are attached to evangelical virtues that they cannot\ncomprehend, and who consider nothing as more important than mysterious\nforms and ceremonies, in which zealots make morality to consist.\n\nSee, then, in what limits are entertained the important services\nthat the 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 streets,\nvend remedies more dangerous than the evils they promise to cure.\n\nIt is by subjecting the immense revenues, lands, abbeys, and estates,\nwhich clerical bodies have levied upon the credulity of men, to just and\nequal taxation, as with other property; it is by rendering the church\nand state entirely distinct; it is by stripping the hierarchy of\nimmunities 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 rightly\nadministered, that justice can be impartially rendered, and that the\nnation, as a whole, can be trained to courage, activity, industry,\nintelligence, tranquillity, and patriotism. So long as there are two\npowers in a state, they will necessarily be at variance, and the one\nwhich arrogates the favor of the Almighty will have immense advantages\nover that which claims no authority above the earth. If both pretend\nto emanate from the same source, the people would not know which to\nbelieve; they would range themselves on each side; the combat would be\nfurious, and the power of the government would be unable to maintain\nitself against the many heads of the ecclesiastical hydra. The magicians\nof Pharaoh yielded to the Jewish priests, and in conflicts between the\nchurch 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,\nthat in 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 error\nto be eternal; it must give way to the power of truth. The priests, who\nthink, know this well, and the whole ecclesiastical body continually\ndeclaim against all those who wish to enlighten the human race and\nunveil the conspiracies of their spiritual guides. They fear the\npiercing eyes of philosophy; they fear the reign of reason, which will\nnever be that of tyranny or anarchy. Governments, then, ought not to\nshare the fears of the clergy, nor render themselves the executors of\ntheir vengeance; they injure themselves when they sustain the cause of\ntheir turbulent rivals, who have ever been the enemies of civil polity\nand perturbera of the public repose. The magistrates of a state league\nthemselves with their enemies when they form an alliance with the\npriesthood, or prevent the people from recognizing their errors.\nGovernments are more interested than individuals in the destruction of\nerrors that often lead to confusion, anarchy, and rebellion. If men had\nnot become gradually enlightened, nations would now, as formerly, be\nunder the yoke of the Roman pontiff, who could occasion revolution in\ntheir midst, overturn the laws, and subvert the government. But for\nthe insensible progress of reason, states would now be filled with\na tumultuous 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\nto think, are more useful to governments than those who wish to stifle\nreason and to proscribe forever the liberty of thought. You see that the\ntrue friends of a stable government are those who seek most sedulously\nto enlighten, educate, and elevate the people. You feel that by\nbanishing knowledge and persecuting philosophy, government sacrifices\nits dearest interests to a seditious clergy, whose ambition and avarice\npush them to usurp boundless authority, and whose pride always makes\nthem indignant at being in subjection to a power which they contend\nshould be subordinate to themselves.\n\nThere is no priest who does not consider himself superior to the highest\nruler of any country. We have often seen the priesthood avow pretensions\nof this character. The clergy are always enraged when an attempt is made\nto subject them to the secular power. Such an attempt they regard as\nprofane, and they denounce it as tyranny whenever it is sought to be\nenforced. They pretend that in all times the priesthood has been sacred,\nthat its rights come from God himself, and that no government can,\nwithout sacrilege, or without outraging the Divinity, touch the\nproperty, the privileges, or the immunities which have been snatched\nfrom ignorance and credulity. Whenever the civil authority would\ntouch the objects considered inviolable and sacred in the hands of the\npriests, their clamors cannot be appeased; they make efforts to excite\nthe people against the government; they denounce all authority as\ntyrannical when it has the temerity to think of subjecting them to the\nlaws, of reforming their abuses, and neutralizing their power to injure.\nBut they consider authority legitimate when it crushes _their_ enemies,\nthough it appears insupportable as soon as it is reasonable and\nfavorable to the people. The priests are essentially the most wicked of\nmen, and the worst citizens of a state. A miracle would be necessary to\nrender them otherwise. In all countries they are the _spoiled children_\nof nations. They are proud and haughty, since they pretend it is from\nGod himself 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 without\nthe desire of playing a great part. They are quarrelsome and factious,\nbecause they are never able to find out a method of enabling men\nto understand the pretended truths they teach. They are suspicious,\ndefiant, and cruel, because they sensibly feel that they may well dread\nthe discovery of their impostures. They are the spontaneous enemies\nof truth because they justly apprehend it will annihilate their\npretensions. They are implacable in their vengeance, because it would\nbe dangerous to pardon those who wish to crush their doctrines, whose\nweakness they know. They are hypocrites, because most of them possess\ntoo much sense to believe the reveries they retail to others. They are\nobstinate in their ideas, because they are inflated with vanity, and\nbecause they could not consistently deviate from a method of thinking\nof which they pretend God is the author. We often see them unbridled\nand licentious in their manners, because it is impossible that idleness,\neffeminacy, and luxury should not corrupt the heart We sometimes see\nthem austere and rigid in their conduct in order to impose on the people\nand accomplish their ambitious views. If they are hypocrites and rogues,\nthey are extremely dangerous; and if they are fanatical in good faith,\nor imbecile, they are not less to be feared. In fine, we almost always\nsee them rebellious and seditious, because an authority derived from God\nis not disposed to bend to authority 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 honor\nin the eyes of the people, to whom they give their confidence, whom\nthey regard as the support of their power, and whom they consider as\nnecessary to the happiness and security of their kingdoms. You can\njudge yourself whether the likeness delineated is correct You are in a\nposition to discover their intrigues, their underplots, their conduct,\nand their discourse, and you will always find that their constant object\nis to flatter princes for the purpose of governing them and keeping\nnations 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 for\nthem, are indignant against the same princes when they refuse to\ndestroy the enemies of their own particular clerical body. They likewise\ndenounce sovereigns as impious if the latter treat theological disputes\nwith the indifference they merit.\n\nWhen hereafter, reclaimed from their prejudices, princes wish to govern\nfor the good of all, let them cease to hear the interested and often\nsanguinary councils of these pretended divine men, who, regarding\nthemselves as the centre of all things, wish to have sacrificed for\nthis object the happiness, the repose, the riches, and the honors of\nthe state. Let the sovereign never enter into their dissensions, let\nhim never persecute for religious opinions, which, among sectaries, are\ncommonly on both sides equally ridiculous and destitute of foundation.\nThey would never involve the government if the sovereign had not the\nweakness to mingle in them. Let him give unlimited freedom to the course\nof thinking, while he directs by just laws the course of acting on the\npart of his subjects. Let him permit every one to dream or speculate as\nhe pleases, provided he conducts himself otherwise as an honest man\nand a good citizen. At least let the prince not oppose the progress\nof knowledge, which alone is capable of extricating his people from\nignorance, barbarity, and superstition, which have made victims of\nso many Christian rulers. Let him be assured that enlightened and\ninstructed citizens are more law-abiding, industrious, and peaceable\nthan stupid slaves without knowledge and without reason, who will always\nbe ready to take all the passions with which a fanatic wishes to inspire\nthem.\n\nLet the sovereign especially occupy himself with the education of his\nsubjects, nor leave the clergy unobstructedly to impregnate his people\nwith mystic notions, foolish reveries, and superstitious practices,\nwhich are only proper for fanatics. Let him at least counterbalance the\ninculcation of these follies by teaching a morality conformable to the\ngood of the state, useful to the happiness of its members, and social\nand reasonable. This morality would inform a man what he owed to\nhimself, to society, to his fellow-citizens, and to the magistrates who\nadministered the laws. This morality would not form men who would hate\neach other for speculative opinions, nor dangerous enthusiasts, nor\ndevotees blindly submissive to the priests. It would create a tranquil,\nintelligent, and industrious community; a body of inhabitants submissive\nto reason and obedient to just and legitimate authority. In a word, from\nsuch morality would spring virtuous men and good citizens, and it would\nbe the surest antidote against superstition and fanaticism. In this\nmanner the empire of the clergy would be diminished, and the sovereign\nwould have a less portentous rival; he would, without opposition, be\nassured of all rational and enlightened citizens; the riches of the\nclergy would in part reenter society, and be of use in benefiting the\npeople; institutions now useless would be put to advantageous uses; a\nportion of the possessions of the church, originally destined for the\npoor, and so long appropriated by avaricious priests, would come\ninto the hands of the suffering and the indigent, their legitimate\nproprietors. Supported by a nation who were sensible of the advantages\nhe had procured them, the prince would no longer fear the cries of\nfanaticism, and they would soon be no longer heard. The priests, the\nlazy monks, and turbulent persons living in forced celibacy, could no\nlonger calculate on the future, and, aliens in the state which nourished\nthem, they would visibly diminish. The government, more rich and\npowerful, would be in a better situation to diffuse its benefits; and\nenlightened, virtuous, and beneficent men would constitute the support,\nthe glory, and the grandeur of the state.\n\nSuch, Madam, are the ends which all governments would propose who opened\ntheir eyes to their own true interests. I flatter myself that these\ndesigns will not appear to you either impossible or chimerical.\nKnowledge and science, which begin to be generally diffused, are already\nadvancing these results; they are giving an impulse to the march of\nthe human mind, and in time, governments and people, without tumult\nor revolution, will be freed from the yoke which has oppressed them so\nlong.\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\nhas been to aggrandize the priesthood on the ruins of nations and\ngovernments. A jealous religion has exclusively seized on the minds\nof men, 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 object\nit is easily to guide mankind after having plunged them into darkness. I\nam, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER X. On the Advantages Religion confers on those who profess it\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 value\nor exercise temporal power. In a word, I think I have persuaded you,\nthat society might, without damage, dispense with the services they\nrender, or at least dispense with paying for them so extravagantly.\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 more\nvirtuous 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 pre* tended 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\nthat interior peace of which they speak so incessantly, without ever\nexhibiting any undoubted manifestations of it.\n\nWhoever is in the enjoyment of peace within, shows some exterior\nmarks of it; but the internal satisfaction of devotees is commonly\nso concealed, that we may well suspect it of being nothing but a mere\nchimera. Their interior peace, which they allege gives them a good\nconscience, is visible to others only by a bilious and petulant\nhumor, that is not usually much applauded by those who come under\nits influence. If, however, there are occasionally some devotees who\nactually display the serene countenance of satisfaction and enjoyment,\nit is because the dismal ideas of religion are rendered inoperative by\na happy temperament; or that such persons have not fully become\nimpregnated with their system of faith, whose legitimate effect is to\nplunge its devotees 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 delineated.\nIt is idle for them to tell us the yoke of Jesus Christ is light. It is\ninsupportable to those who consider it properly. It is only light for\nthose who bear it without reflection, or for those who assume it\nin order to impose it upon others, without intending to suffer its\nannoyances 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 not\nyour soul involved in woe in spite of your judgment? Were you not taking\nmeasures to wither all your happiness? In favor of religion, were you\nnot ready to renounce the world, and disregard all you owe to society?\nIf I was afflicted, I was not surprised. The Christian religion\ninevitably destroys the happiness and repose of those who are subjected\nby it; alarms and terrors are the objects of its pleasures; it cannot\nmake those happy who fully receive it It would certainly have plunged\nyou into distress. All your faculties would have been injured, and your\ntoo susceptible imagination would have been carried to such dangerous\nextremes, that many others would have grieved at the result A gentle\nand beneficent spirit, like yours, could never receive peace from\nChristianity. The evils of religion are sure, while its consolations are\ncontradictory and vague. They cannot give that temper and tranquillity\nto the mind which is necessary to enable men to labor for their own\nhappiness 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 enraged\nat those audacious persons who neglect practices or duties that are\nclaimed as the exactions of God. He will desire to be with those only\nwho view things as he does himself; he will keep himself apart from all\nothers, and will end by hating them. He believes himself obliged to make\na loud and public parade of his mode of thinking, and he signalizes his\nzeal even at the risk of appearing ridiculous. If he showed indulgence,\nhe would doubtless fear he should render himself an accomplice in a\nneglect of his God. He would reprehend such sinners, and it would be\nwith acrimony, because his own soul was filled with it. In fine, if\nzealous, he would always be under the dominion of anger, and would only\nbe indulgent in proportion as he was 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 religion\nwere altogether carried out. The world cannot be united to Jesus Christ.\nGod demands our entire heart, and nothing is allowed to remain for his\nweak creatures. To produce the little zeal for heaven which Christians\nhave, it is requisite to torment them, and thus lead them to the\npractice of those marvellous virtues in which they imagine is placed\nall their safety. A strange religion, which, practised in all its rigor,\nwould drag society to ruin! The sincere devotee proposes impossible\nattainments, of which human nature is not capable; and as, in spite of\nall his endeavors, he is unable to succeed in their acquisition, he is\nalways discontented with himself. He regards himself as the object of\nGod's anger; he reproaches himself with all that he does; he suffers\nremorse for all the pleasures he experiences, and fears that they may\noccasion a fall from grace.\n\nFor his greater security, he often avoids society which may at any\nmoment turn him from his pretended duties, excite him to sin, and render\nhim the witness or accomplice of what is offensive to zealots. In fine,\nif the devotee is very zealous, he cannot prevent himself from avoiding\nor detesting beings, who, according to his gloomy notions of religion,\nare perpetually occupied in irritating God. On the other hand, you know,\nMadam, that it is chagrin and melancholy that lead to devotion. It is\nusually not till the world abandons and displeases men that they have\nrecourse to heaven; it is in the arms of religion that the ambitious\nseek to console themselves for their disgraces and disappointed\nprojects; dissolute and loose women turn devotees when the world\ndiscards them, and they offer to God hearts wasted, and charms that are\nno longer in repute. The ruin of their attractions admonishes them that\ntheir empire is no longer of this world; filled with vexation, consumed\nwith chagrin, and irritated against a society where they were deprived\nof enacting an agreeable part, they yield themselves up to devotion, and\ndistinguish themselves by religious follies, after having run the race\nof fashionable vices, and been engaged in worldly scandals. With rancor\nin their hearts, they offer a gloomy adoration to a God who indemnifies\nthem most miserably for their ascetic worship. In a word, it is passion,\naffliction, and despair to which most conversions must be attributed;\nand they are persons of such character who deliver themselves to the\npriests, and these mental aberrations and physical afflictions are\nthe marvellous strokes of grace of which God makes use to lead men to\nhimself.\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 loss\nof a lover; the remote and flattering hopes of another world rarely\nmake up for the realities of this; nor do the fictitious occupations of\nreligion suffice to satisfy souls accustomed to intrigues, dissipation,\nand 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. If\nthe changes produced by grace do not render those more happy upon whom\nthey are operated, they cannot cause much admiration on the part of\nthose who witness them. Indeed, what advantages does society reap from\nthe greater part of conversions? Do the persons so touched by grace\nbecome better? Do they make amends for the evil they have done, or are\nthey heartily and generously engaged in doing good to those by whom\nthey are surrounded? A mistress, for example, who has been arrogant and\nproud,--does conversion render her humble and gentle? Does the unjust\nand cruel man recompense those to whom he has done evil? Does the robber\nreturn to society the property of which he has plundered it? Does the\ndissipated and licentious woman repair by her vigilant cares the wrongs\nthat her disorders and dissipations have occasioned? No, far from\nit These persons so touched and converted by God ordinarily content\nthemselves with praying, fasting, religious offerings, frequenting\nchurches, clamoring in favor of their priests, intriguing to sustain\na sect, decrying all who disagree with their particular spiritual\ndirector, and exhibiting an ardent and ridiculous zeal for questions\nthat they do not understand. In this manner they imagine they get\nabsolution from God, and give indemnification to men; but society gains\nnothing from their miraculous conversion. On the other hand, devotion\noften exalts, infuriates, and strengthens the passions which formerly\nanimated the converts. It turns these passions to new objects, and\nreligion justifies the intolerant and cruel excesses into which they\nrush for the interest of their sect. It is thus that an ambitious\npersonage becomes a proud and turbulent fanatic, and believes himself\njustified by his zeal; it is thus that a disgraced courtier cabals\nin the name of heaven against his own enemies; and it is thus that a\nmalignant and vindictive man, under the pretext of avenging God, seeks\nthe means of avenging himself. Thus, also, it happens that a woman, to\nindemnify herself for having quitted rouge, considers she has the right\nto outrage with her acrid humor a husband whom she had previously, in a\ndifferent manner, outraged many times. She piously denounces those who\nallow themselves the indulgence of the most innocent pleasures; in\nthe belief of manifesting religions earnestness, she exhales downright\npassion, envy, jealousy, and spite; and in lending herself warmly to\nthe interests 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 you\nwill but slightly examine the matter, you will find that among these\npersons so persuaded of their religion, so convinced of its importance\nand utility, who speak incessantly of its consolations, its sweets, and\nits virtues,--you will find that among these persons there are very few\nwho are tendered happier, and yet fewer who are rendered better. Are\nthey vividly penetrated with the sentiments of their afflicting and\nterrible religion? You will find them atrabilious, disobliging, and\nfierce. Are they more lightly affected by their creed? You will then\nfind them less bigoted, more beneficent, social, and kind. The religion\nof the court, as you know, is a continual mixture of devotion and\npleas-ore, a circle of the exercises of piety and dissipation, of\nmomentary fervor and continuous irregularities. This religion connects\nJesus Christ with the pomps of Satan. We there see sumptuous display,\npride, ambition, intrigue, vengeance, envy, and libertinism all\namalgamated with a religion whose _maxims_ are austere. Pious casuists,\ninterested for the great, approve this alliance, and give the lie to\ntheir own religion in order to derive advantage from circumstances and\nfrom the passions and vices of men. If these court divines were too\nrigid, they would affright their fashionable disciples seeking to reach\nheaven on \"flowery beds of ease,\" and who embrace religion with the\nunderstanding that they are to be allowed no inconsiderable latitude.\nThis is doubtless the reason why Jansenism, which wished to renew\nthe austere principles of primitive Christianity, obtained no general\ninfluence at the Parisian court. The monkish precepts of early\nChristianity could only suit men of the temper of those who first\nembraced it They were adapted for persons who were abject, bilious, and\ndiscontented, who, deprived of luxury, power, and honors, became the\nenemies of grandeurs from which they were excluded. The devotees had the\nart of making a merit of their aversion and disdain for what they could\nnot obtain.\n\nNevertheless, a Christian, in consonance with his principles, should\n\"take no thought for the morrow;\" should have no individual possessions;\nshould flee from the world and its pomps; should give his coat to the\nthief who stole his cloak; and, if smitten on one cheek, should turn\nthe other, to the aggressor. It is upon Stoicism that religious\nfanatics built their gloomy philosophy. The so-called perfections which\nChristianity proposes place man in a perpetual war with himself, and\nmust render him miserable. The true Christian is an enemy both of\nhimself and the human race, and for his own consistency should live\nsecluded in darkness, like an owl. His religion renders him essentially\nunsocial, and as useless to himself as he is disagreeable to others.\nWhat advantage can society receive from a man who trembles without\ncessation, who is in a state of superstitious penance, who prays, and\nwho indulges in solitude? Or what better is the devotee who flies from\nthe world and deprives himself even of innocent pleasures, in the fear\nthat God might damn him for participation 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 have\nbeen, consonant to integrity and honesty as you know my conduct to be,\nand free as I have ever been from intolerance, my existence would be\nendangered were these letters I am now writing to you to appear in\nprint, or even be circulated in manuscript with my name attached to them\nas author. Yes, Christians have made laws, now dominant here in France,\nwhich would tie me to the stake, consume my body with fire, bore my\ntongue with a red hot iron, deprive me of sepulture, strip my family\nof my property, and for no other cause than for my opinions concerning\nChristianity and the Bible. Such is the horrid cruelty engendered by\nChristianity. It has sometimes been called in question whether a society\nof atheists could exist; but we might with more propriety ask if a\nsociety of fierce, impracticable, visionary, and fanatical Christians,\nin all the plenitude of their ridiculous system, could long subsist.*\nWhat would become of a nation all of whose inhabitants wished to attain\nperfection by delivering themselves over to fanatical contemplation, to\nascetical penance, to monkish prayers, and to that state of things set\nforth in the Acts of the Apostles? What would be the condition of a\nnation where 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 in\nthe Thebaid, and even there only for a limited time, as it must soon be\nannihilated. If some enthusiasts exhibit examples of this sort, we know\nthat convents and nunneries are supported by that portion of society\nwhich they do not enclose. But who would provide for a country that\nabandoned every thing else, for the purpose of heavenly contemplations?\n\n     * Upon this topic consult what Bayle says, Continuation des\n     Pensees diverses sur la Comete, Sections 124,125, tome iv.,\n     Rousseau de Geneve, in his Contrai Social, 1. 4, ch 8. See\n     also the Lettres ecrites de la Montague, letter first, pp.\n     45 to 54, edit. 8vo. The author discusses the same matter,\n     and confirms his opinions hy new reasonings, which\n     particularly deserve perusal.--Note of the Editor, (Naigeon)\n\nWe may therefore legitimately conclude that the Christian religion\nis not 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. Their\npassions are not repressed, but on the contrary are often thus rendered\nmore fierce and more calculated to disturb society. Masked under the\nveil of religion, they generally produce more terrible effects. It\nis then that ambition, vengeance, cruelty, anger, calumny, envy, and\npersecution, covered by the deceptive name of zeal, cause the greatest\nravages, range without bounds, and even delude those who are transported\nby these dangerous passions. Religion does not annihilate these violent\nagitations of the mind in the hearts of its devotees, but often excites\nand justifies them; and experience proves that the most rigid Christians\nare very far from being the best of men, and that they have no right to\nreproach the incredulous either concerning the pretended consequences\nof their principles, or for the passions which are falsely alleged to\nspring from unbelief.\n\nIndeed, the charity of the peaceful ministers of religion and of their\npious adherents does not prevent their blackening their adversaries with\na view of rendering them odious, and of drawing down upon their heads\nthe malevolence of a superstitious community, and the persecution of\ntyrannical and oppressive laws; their zeal for God's glory permits them\nto employ indifferently all kinds of weapons; and calumny, especially,\nfurnishes them always a most powerful aid. According to them, there are\nno irregularities of the heart which are not produced by incredulity;\nto renounce religion, say they, is to give a free course to unbridled\npassions, and he who does not believe surely indicates a corrupt heart,\ndepraved manners, and frightful libertinism. In a word, they declare\nthat every man who refuses to admit their reveries or their marvellous\nmorality, has no motives to do good, and very powerful ones to commit\nevil.\n\nIt is thus that our charitable divines caricature and misrepresent the\nopponents of their supremacy, and describe them as dangerous brigands,\nwhom society, for its own interest, ought to proscribe and destroy. It\nresults from these imputations that those who renounce prejudices and\nconsult reason are considered the most unreasonable of men; that they\nwho condemn religion on account of the crimes it has produced upon the\nearth, and for which it has served as an eternal pretext, are regarded\nas bad citizens; that they who complain of the troubles that turbulent\npriests have so often excited, are set down as perturbators of the\nrepose of nations; and that they who are shocked at the contemplation of\nthe inhuman and unjust persecutions which have been excited by priestly\nambition and rascality, are men who have no idea of justice, and in\nwhose bosoms the sentiments of humanity are necessarily stifled. They\nwho despise the false and deceitful motives by which, to the present\ntime, it has been vainly attempted through the other world to make men\nvirtuous, equitable, and beneficent, are denounced as having no real\nmotives to practise the virtues necessary for their well-being _here_.\nIn fine, the priests scandalize those who wish to destroy sacerdotal\ntyranny, and impostures dangerous alike to nations and people, as\nenemies of the state so dangerous that the laws ought 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 violence\nto the minds of mankind; and it does not hate and persecute for a\ndifference of opinion. In a word, the incredulous, have not an infinity\nof motives, interests, and pretexts to injure, with which the zealous\npartisans 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 man.\nIf, however, a citizen is in a sort of delirium, all the credulity in\nthe world will not be able to restrain him. If he is powerful enough\nto have no fear of men on this earth, he will not regard the divine law\nmore than the hatred and the disdain of the judges he has constantly\nbefore 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 nations\nfull of knaves of all kinds, who secretly plot the ruin of their\nfellow-beings? Do not the most ostensibly credulous persons indulge in\nan infinity of vices for which they would blush if they were by chance\nbrought to light? A man who is the most persuaded that God sees all his\nactions frequently does not blush to commit deeds in secret from which\nhe would refrain if beheld by the meanest of human beings.\n\nWhat, then, avails the powerful check on the passions which religion is\nsaid to interpose? If we could place any reliance on what is said by our\npriests, it would appear that neither public nor secret crimes could\nbe committed in countries where their instructions are received; the\npriests would appear like a brotherhood of angels, and every religious\nman to be without faults. But men forget their religious speculations\nwhen they are under the dominion of violent passions, when they are\nbound by the ties of habit, or when they are blinded by great interests.\nUnder such circumstances they do not reason. Whether a man is virtuous\nor vicious depends on temperament, habit, and education. An unbeliever\nmay have strong passions, and may reason very justly on the subject of\nreligion, and very erroneously in regard to his conduct. The religious\ndupe is u poor metaphysician, and if he also acts badly he is both\nimbecile 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 disinterested\npersons. In the mean time the priests themselves seem to doubt the\nsoundness of their own allegations; they call the secular arm to the\naid of their arguments; they marshal on their side fines, imprisonment,\nconfiscation of goods, boring and branding with hot irons, and death at\nthe stake, at this time in France, and in other and in most countries\nof Christendom; they use the scourge to drive men into paradise; they\nenlighten men by the blaze of the fagot; they inculcate faith by furious\nand bloody strokes of the sword; and they have the baseness to stand in\ndread of men who cannot announce themselves or openly promulgate their\nopinions without running the risk of punishment, and even death. This\nconduct does not manifest that the priests are strongly persuaded of\nthe power of their arguments. If our clerical theologians acted in\ngood faith, would they not rejoice to open a free course to thorough\ndiscussion? Would they not be gratified to allow doubters to propose\ndifficulties, the solution of which, if Christianity is so plain and\nclear, would serve to render it more firm and solid? They find it\nanswers their ends better to use their adversaries as the Mexicans do\ntheir slaves, whom they shackle before attacking, and then kill for\ndaring to defend themselves.\n\nIt is very probable unbelievers may be found whose conduct is blamable,\nand this is because they in this respect follow the same line of\nreasoning as the devotee. The most fanatical partisans of religion are\nforced to confess that among their adherents a small number of the elect\nonly are rendered virtuous. By what right, then, do they exact that\nincredulity, which pretends to nothing supernatural, should produce\neffects which, according to their own admissions, their pretended divine\nreligion fails to accomplish? If all believers were invariably good men,\nthe cause of religion would be provided with an adamantine bulwark, and\nespecially if unbelievers were persons without morality or virtue. But\nwhatever the priests may aver, the unbelievers are more virtuous than\nthe devotees. A happy temperament, a judicious education, the desire of\nliving a peaceable life, the dislike to attract hatred or blame, and the\nhabit of fulfilling the moral duties, always furnish motives to abstain\nfrom vice and to practise virtue more powerful and more true than\nthose presented by religion. Besides, the incredulous person has not an\ninfinity of resources which Christianity bestows upon its superstitious\nfollowers. The Christian can at any time expiate his crimes by\nconfession and penance, and can thus reconcile himself with God, and\ngive repose to his conscience; the unbeliever, on the other hand, who\nhas perpetrated a wrong, can reconcile himself neither with society,\nwhich he has outraged, nor with himself, whom he is compelled to hate.\nIf he expects no reward in another life, he has no interest but to merit\nthe homage that in all enlightened countries is rendered to virtue, to\nprobity, and to a conduct constantly honest; he has no inducement but to\navoid the penalties and the disdain that society decrees against those\nwho trouble its well-being, and who refuse to contribute to its welfare.\n\nIt appears evident that every man who consults his understanding should\nbe more reasonable than one who only consults his imagination. It is\nevident that he who consults his own nature and that of the beings who\nsurround him, ought to have truer ideas of good and evil, of justice and\ninjustice, and of honesty and dishonesty, that he who, to regulate his\nconduct, consults only the records of a concealed God, whom his priests\npicture as wicked, unjust, changeable, contradicting himself, and who\nhas sometimes ordered actions the most contrary to morality and to all\nthe ideas that we have of virtue. It is evident that he who regulates\nhis conduct upon sacerdotal molality will only follow the caprice\nand passions of the priests, and will be a very dangerous man, while\nbelieving himself very virtuous. In fine, it is evident that while\nconforming himself to the precepts and counsels of religion, a man may\nbe extremely pious without possessing the shadow of a virtue. Experience\nhas proved that it is quite possible to adhere to all the unintelligible\ndogmas of the priests, to observe most scrupulously all the forms, and\nceremonies, and services they recommend, and orally to profess all the\nChristian virtues, without having any of the qualities necessary to his\nown happiness, and to that of the beings with whom he lives. The saints,\nindeed, who are proposed to us as models, were useless members of\nsociety. We see them to have been either gloomy fanatics, who sacrificed\nthemselves to the desolating ideas of their religion, or excited\nfanatics, who, under pretext of serving religion, have perpetually\ndisturbed the repose of nations, or enthusiastic theologians, who from\ntheir own dreams have deduced systems exactly calculated to infuriate\nthe brains of their adherents. A saint, when he is tranquil, proposes\nnothing whose accomplishment will benefit mankind, and only aims to keep\nhimself safe and secluded in his retreat. A saint, when he is active,\nonly appears to promulgate reveries dangerous to the world, and to\nuphold the interests of the church, that he confounds with the interest\nof God.\n\nIn a word, Madam, I cannot too often repeat it, every system of religion\nappears to be designed for the utility of the priests; the morality of\nChristianity has in view only the interests of the priesthood; all the\nvirtues that it teaches have solely for an object the church, and its\nministers; and these ends are always to subject the people, to draw a\nprofit from their toil, and to inspire them with a blind Credulity. We\nought, therefore, to practise morality and virtue without entering into\nthese conspiracies. If the priests disapprove of those who do not agree\nwith them, and refuse to award any probity to the thinkers who reject\ntheir injurious and useless notions, society, which needs for its own\nsustenance real and human virtues, will not adopt the sentiments nor\nespouse the quarrels of these men, visibly leagued together against it.\nIf the ministers of religion require their dogmas, their mysteries,\nand their fanatical virtues to support their usurped empire, the civil\ngovernment has a need of reasonable virtues, of an evident, and above\nall, of a pacific morality, in order, to exercise its legitimate rights.\nIn fine, the individuals, who compose every society, demand a morality\nwhich will render them happy in _this_ world, without embarrassing\nthemselves with what only pretends to secure their felicity in an\nimaginary sphere, of which they have no ideas except those received from\nthe 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 to\nthe present time, they have retarded the progress of morality; and that\nthey have transformed a science the most certain, plain, and sensible to\nevery thinking man, into a system at once doubtful and enigmatical, and\nfull of difficulties. I am, Madam, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER XI. Of Human or Natural Morality\n\nBy this time, Madam, you will have reflected on what I had the honor to\naddress to you, and perceived how impossible it is to found a certain\nand invariable morality on a religion enthusiastic, ambiguous,\nmysterious, and contradictory, and which never agreed with itself.\nYou know that the God who appears to have taken pleasure in rendering\nhimself unintelligible, that the God who is partial and changeable, that\nthe God whose precepts are at variance one with another, can never serve\nas the base on which to rear a morality that shall become practicable\namong the inhabitants of the earth. In short, how can we fonnd justice\nand goodness on attributes that are unjust and evil; yet attributes of a\nBeing who tempts man, whom he created, for the purpose of punishing him\nwhen tempted? How can we know when we do the will of a God who has said,\n_Thou shalt not kill_, and who yet allows his people to exterminate\nwhole nations? What idea can we form of the morality of that God who\ndeclares himself pleased with the sanguinary conduct of Moses, of the\nrebel, the assassin, the adulterer, David? Is it possible to found\nthe holy duties of humanity on a God whose favorites have been inhuman\npersecutors and cruel monsters? How can we deduce our duties from the\nlessons of the priests of a God of peace, who, nevertheless, breathes\nonly sedition, vengeance, and carnage? How can we take as models for our\nconduct _saints_, who were useless enthusiasts, or turbulent fanatics,\nor seditious apostates; who, under the pretext of defending the cause of\nGod, have stirred up the greatest ravages on the earth? What wholesome\nmorality can we reap from the adoption of impracticable virtues, from\ntheir being supernatural, which are visibly useless to ourselves, to\nthose among whom we live, and in their consequences often dangerous? How\ncan we take as guides in our conduct priests, whose lessons are a tissue\nof unintelligible 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\nby their 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, and\nperfidy? J You know, Madam, that it is impossible to found morality on\nnotions that 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 species.\nBy virtue, religion understands only that which may contribute to render\nus favorable to a hidden God, who attaches his favor to practices and\nopinions that are too often hurtful to ourselves, and little beneficial\nto others. The morality of the Christians is a mystic morality, which\nresembles the dogmas of their religion; it is obscure, unintelligible,\nuncertain, and subject to the interpretation of frail creatures. This\nmorality is never fixed, because it is subordinate to a religion which\nvaries incessantly its principles, and which is regulated according to\nthe pleasure of a despotic divinity, and, more especially, according\nto the pleasure of priests, whose interests are changing daily, whose\ncaprices are as variable as the hours of their existence, and who are,\nconsequently, not always in agreement with one another.\n\nThe writings which are the sources whence the Christians have drawn\ntheir morality, are not only an abyss of obscurity, but demand continual\nexplications from their masters, the priests, who, in explaining, make\nthem still more obscure, still more contradictory. If these oracles of\nheaven prescribe to us in one place the virtues truly useful, in another\npart they approve, or prescribe, actions entirely opposed to all the\nideas that we have of virtue. The same God who orders us to be good,\nequitable, and beneficent, who forbids the revenging of injuries,\nwho declares himself to be the God of clemency and of goodness, shows\nhimself to be implacable in his rage; announces himself as bringing\n_the swords 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 occupied\nthe people of Israel. In recompense for their scrupulous exactness to\nfulfil these duties, they were permitted to commit the most frightful of\ncrimes. The virtues recommended by the Son of God, in the New Testament,\nare not in reality the same as those which God the Father had made\nobservable in the former case. The New Testament contradicts the Old. It\nannounces that God is not pacified by sacrifices, nor by offerings,\nnor by frivolous rites. It substitutes in place of these, supernatural\nvirtues, of which I believe I have sufficiently proved the inutility,\nthe impossibility, and the incompatibility with the well-being of man\nliving in society. The Son of God, by the writers of the New Testament,\nis set at variance with himself; for he destroys in one place what he\nestablishes in another; and, moreover, the priests have appropriated to\nthemselves all the principles of his mission. They are in unison only\nwith God when the precepts of the Deity accord with their present\ninterest. Is it their interest to persecute? They find that God ordains\npersecution. Are they themselves persecuted? They find that this pacific\nGod forbids persecution, and views with abhorrence the persecution of\nhis servants. Do they find that superstitious practices are lucrative to\nthemselves? Notwithstanding the aversion of Jesus Christ from offerings,\nrites, and ceremonies, they impose them on the people, they surcharge\nthem with mysterious rites: they respect these more than those duties\nWhich are of essential benefit to society. If Jesus has not wished that\nthey should avenge themselves, they find that his Father has delighted\nin vengeance. If Jesus has declared that his kingdom is not of this\nworld, and if he has shown, contempt of riches, they nevertheless find\nin the Old Testament sufficient reasons for establishing a hierarchy\nfor the governing of the world in a spiritual sense, as kings do in a\npolitical one,--for the disputing with kings about their power,--for\nexercising in this world an authority the most unlimited, a license the\nmost terrific. In a word, if they have found in the Bible some precepts\nof a moral tendency and practical utility, they have also found others\nto 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 detests,\nthe same conduct; he changes crime into virtue, and virtue into 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 their\ncontradictions, and minds the most honest to commit faults the greatest\nwhich can be committed against religion. It is thus that under a God who\nrecommends the love of our neighbor, the Christians accustom themselves\nfrom infancy to detest an heretical neighbor, and are almost always in a\ndisposition to overwhelm him by a crowd of arguments received from their\npriests. It is thus that, under a God who ordains we should love our\nenemies and forgive their offences, the Christians hate and destroy\nthe enemies of their priests, and take vengeance, without measure, for\ninjuries which they pretend to have received. It is thus, that under\na just God, a God who never ceases to boast of his goodness, the\nChristians, at the signal of their spiritual guides, become unjust and\ncruel, and make a merit of having stifled the cries of nature, the voice\nof humanity, the counsels of wisdom, and of public interest.\n\nIn a word, all the ideas of justice and of injustice, of good and evil,\nof happiness and of misfortune, are necessarily confounded in the head\nof a Christian. His despotic priest commands him, in the name of God, to\nput no reliance on his reason, and the man who is compelled to abandon\nit for the guidance of a troubled imagination will be far more likely to\nconsult and admit the most stupid fanaticism as the inspiration of\nthe Most High. In his blindness, he casts at his feet duties the most\nsacred, and he believes himself virtuous in outraging every virtue. Has\nhe remorse? his priest appeases it speedily, and points out some\neasy practices by which he may soon recommend himself to God. Has he\ncommitted injustice, violence, and rapine? he may repair all by giving\nto the church the goods of which he has despoiled worthy citizens; or by\nrepaying by largesses, which will procure him the prayers of the priests\nand the favor of heaven. For the priests never reproach men, who give\nthem of this world's goods, with the injustice, the cruelties, and the\ncrimes they have been guilty, to support the church and befriend her\nministers; the faults which have almost always been found the most\nunpardonable, have always been those of most disservice to the clergy.\nTo question the faith and reject the authority of the priesthood, have\nalways been the most frightful crimes; they are truly the sin against\nthe Holy Ghost, which can never be forgiven either in this world or in\nthat which is to come. To despise these objects which the priests have\nan interest in making to be respected, is sufficient to qualify one for\nthe appellation of a blasphemer and an impious man. These vague words,\nvoid of sense, suffice to excite horror in the mind of the weak vulgar.\nThe terrible word sacrilege designates an attempt on the person, the\ngoods, and the rights of the clergy. The omission of some useless\npractice is exaggerated and represented as a crime more detestable than\nactions which injure society. In favor of fidelity to fulfil the duties\nof religion, 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\nas faults, 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 the\nearth which they inhabit, for visions of bliss in heaven. By the aid of\nthis morality, the priests have become the true masters here below; they\nhave imagined virtues and practices useful only to themselves; they have\nproscribed and interdicted those which were truly useful to society;\nthey have made slaves of their disciples, who make virtue to consist in\nblind 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 to\nrenounce those supernatural notions which have, till now, hindered men\nfrom consulting the volume of nature, which have subjected reason to the\nyoke of authority; it is necessary to encourage man, to undeceive him as\nto those prejudices which have enslaved him; to annihilate in his bosom\nthose false theories which corrupt his nature, and which are, in fact,\ninfidel guides, destructive of the real happiness of the species. It is\nnecessary to undeceive him as to the idea of his loathing himself, and\nespecially that other idea, that some of his fellow-creatures are not to\nlabor with their hands for their support, but in spiritual matters for\nhis happiness. In fine, it is necessary to influence him with self-love,\nthat he may merit the esteem of the world, the benevolence and\nconsideration of those with whom he is associated by the ties of nature\nor 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 by\nourselves. 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. However, if it is true that God is the author\nof man, it is God who renders man sociable; it is God who wishes man to\nlive in society where he can obtain the greatest good. If God is good,\nhe cannot approve that men should leave society to become miserable; if\nGod is the author of reason, we can only wish that men who are possessed\nof reason 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 in revelation\nthe most evident and clear of all those supposed revelations, which are\nvisibly contrary to all the notions we can form of the Divinity. We\nare not, however, obliged to dive into the marvellous to establish the\nduties man owes to man, since God has very plainly shown them in the\nwants of one and the good offices of another person. But it is only by\nconsulting our reason that we can arrive at the means of contributing to\nthe felicity of our species. It is then evident that in regarding man as\nthe creature of God, God must have designed that man should consult his\nreason, that it might procure him the most solid happiness, and those\nprinciples of virtue which nature approves.\n\nWhat, then, might not our opinions be were we to substitute the morality\nof reason for the morality of religion? In place of a partial and\nreserved 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\nthis nature, 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 real\nhappiness and good will the most solid and extensive; let us weigh these\nwith those that are founded on visionary theories; their difference will\nat once be perceptible; the advantages which are permanent we will not\nsacrifice for those that are momentary; we will employ all our faculties\nto augment the happiness of our species; we will labor with perseverance\nand courage to extirpate evil from the earth; we will assist as much as\nwe can those who are without friends; we will seek to alleviate their\ndistresses and their pains; we will merit their regard, and thus fulfil\nthe end of our being on earth.\n\nIn conducting ourselves in this manner, our reason prescribes a morality\nagreeable to nature, reasonable to all, constant in its operation,\neffective in its exercise in benefiting all, in contributing to the\nhappiness of society, collectively and individually, in distinction to\nthe mysticism preached up by priests. We shall find in our reason and in\nour nature the surest guides, superior to the clergy, who only teach us\nto benefit themselves. We shall thus enjoy a morality as durable as the\nrace of man. We shall have precepts founded on the necessity of things,\nthat will punish those transgressing them, and rewarding those who obey\nthem. Every man who shall prove himself to be just, useful, beneficent,\nwill be an object of love to his fellow-citizens; every man who shall\nprove himself unjust, useless, and wicked will become an object of\nhatred to himself as well as to others; he will be forced to tremble at\nthe violation 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,\na sensible 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 other\neffect than to make useless enthusiasts and dangerous fanatics. The\nprinciples on which enthusiasm establishes morality are changing and\nruinous; those on which the morality of reason is established are fixed,\nand cannot be overturned. Seeing, then, that man, a reasonable being,\nshould be chiefly occupied about his preservation and happiness--that he\nshould love virtue--that he should be sensible of its advantages--that\nhe should fear the consequences of crime--is it to be wondered I should\ninsist so much on the practice of virtue as his chief good? Men ought to\nhate crime because it leads to misery. Society, to exist, must receive\nthe united virtue of its members, obedience to good laws, the activity\nand intelligence of citizens to defend its privileges and its rights.\nLaws are good when they invite the members of society to labor for\nreciprocal good offices. Laws are just when they recompense or punish in\nproportion to the good or evil which is done to society. Laws supported\nby a visible authority should be founded on present motives; and thus\nthey would have more force than those of religion, which are founded\non uncertain motives, imaginary and removed from this world, and which\nexperience proves cannot suffice to curb the passions of bad men, nor\nshow them their duty 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 will\nperceive that his essential happiness is to show kindness, attachment,\nand tenderness to the companion of his life, destined by his own choice\nto share his pleasures and endure his misfortunes. And, on the other\nhand, she, by consulting her true interests, will perceive that they\nconsist in rendering homage to her husband, in interdicting every\nthought that could alienate her affections, diminish her esteem and\nconfidence in him. Fathers and mothers will perceive that their children\nare destined to be one day their consolation and support in old age, and\nthat by consequence they have the greatest interest in inspiring them in\nearly life with sentiments of which they may themselves reap the benefit\nwhen age or misfortune may require the fruits of those advantages that\nresult from a good education. Their children, early taught to reflect on\nthese things, will find their interest to lie in meriting the kindness\nof their parents, and in giving them proofs that the virtues they are\ntaught will 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 discover\nhow much their happiness depends on fidelity, industry, and good temper\nin their situations. Friends will find the advantages of a kindred heart\nfor friendship, and the reciprocity of good offices. The members of the\nsame family will perceive the necessity of preserving that union\nwhich nature has established among them, to render mutual benefits in\nprosperity or in adversity. Societies, if they reflect on the end of\ntheir association, will perceive that to secure it they must observe\ngood faith and punctuality in their engagements. The citizen, when he\nconsults his reason, will perceive how much it is necessary, for the\ngood of the nation to which he belongs, that he should exert himself to\nadvance its prosperity, or, in its misfortunes, to retrieve its glory.\nBy consequence every one in his sphere, and using his faculties for\nthis great end, will find his own advantage in restraining the bad as\ndangerous, and opposing enemies to the 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; that\nevery man who respects himself ought to seek the esteem of others; that\nit is necessary to merit the good opinion of society; that he ought to\nbe jealous of his reputation; that a weak being, who is every instant\nexposed to misfortunes, ought to know what are his duties, and how he\nshould practise them for the benefit of himself and the assembly of\nwhich 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, calumny,\nand backbiting. Every one must perceive that in giving a free course to\nunbridled desires, he becomes the enemy of society, and then it is the\npart of the laws to restrain him who renounces his reason and despises\nthe motives that ought to guide him.\n\nIf it is objected that man is not a free agent, and therefore is unable\nto restrain his passions, and that consequently the law ought not\nto punish him, I reply that the community are impelled by the same\nnecessity to hate what is injurious, and for their own conservation and\nhappiness have the right to restrain an unhappily organized individual\nwho is impelled to injure himself and others. The inevitable faults of\nmen necessarily excite the hatred of those who suffer 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 being\nallowed, prudence, or the desire of preserving one's self free from the\ncontamination of evil, ought to inculcate to every man his path of\nduty; and, unless blinded by his passions, he must perceive how much\nmoderation in his pleasures, temperance, chastity, contribute to\nhappiness; that those who transgress in these respects are necessarily\nthe victims of ill health, and too often pass a life both infirm and\nunfortunate, which terminates soon in death.\n\nHow is it possible, then, Madam, from visionary theories to arrive\nat these 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 are\ndearest 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 made\nof a science the most obvious and best demonstrated, an unintelligible\nscience, mysterious and uncertain to those for whom it is designed.\nIn the hands of the priests, morality has become an enigma; they have\nfounded our duties on the attributes of a Deity whom the mind of man\ncannot comprehend, in place of founding them on the character of man\nhimself. They have thrown in among them the foundations of an edifice\nwhich is made for this earth. They have desired to regulate our\nmanners agreeably to equivocal oracles which every instant contradict\nthemselves, and which too often render their devotees useless to society\nand to themselves. They have pretended to render their morality more\nsacred by inviting us to look for recompenses and punishments removed\nbeyond this life, but which they announce in the name of the Divinity.\nIn fine, they have made man a being who may not even strive at\nperfection, by a preordination of some to bliss, and consequent\ndamnation of others, whose insensibility is the result of this\nselection.\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 and\nmarvellous speculations of the priests, man continues always to love\nhimself, to desire his well being, and to flee misfortune and sorrow. He\nhas then always been actuated by the same passions. When these passions\nhave been moderate, and have tended to the public good, they are\nlegitimate, and we approve those actions which are their effects. When\nthese passions have been disordered, hurtful to society, or to the\nindividual, he condemns them; they punish him; he is dissatisfied with\nhis conduct which others cannot approve. Man always loves his pleasures,\nbecause in their enjoyment he fulfils the end of his existence; if he\nexceeds their just bounds he renders himself 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 their\ndogmas. When this morality professes to restrain the wicked, to curb the\npassions of men, it operates in opposition to the established laws\nof natural religion; for by preserving all its rigor, it becomes\nimpracticable; and it meets with real devotees only in some few fanatics\nwho have renounced nature, and who would be singular, even if their\noddities were injurious to society. This morality, adopted for the most\npart by devotees, without eradicating their habits or their natural\ndefects, keeps them always in a state of opposition even with\nthemselves. Their life is a round of faults and of scruples, of sins and\nremorse, of crimes and expiations, of pleasures which they enjoy, but\nfor which they again reproach themselves for having tasted. In a word,\nthe morality of superstition necessarily carries with it into the heart\nand the family of its devotees inward distress and affliction; it makes\nof enthusiasts and fanatics scrupulous devotees; it makes a great many\ninsensible and miserable; it renders none perfect, few good; and\nthose only tolerable whom nature, education, and habit had moulded for\nhappiness.\n\nIt is our temperament which decides our condition; the acquisition\nof moderate passions, of honest habits, sensible opinions, laudable\nexamples, and practical virtues, is a difficult task, but not impossible\nwhen undertaken with reason for one's guide, It is difficult to be\nvirtuous and happy with a temperament so ardent as to sway the passions\nto its will. One must in calmness consult reason as to nis duty. Nature,\nin giving us lively passions and a susceptible imagination, has made\nus capable of suffering the instant we transgress her bounds. She then\nrenders us necessary to ourselves, and we cannot proceed to consult\nour real interest if we continue in indulgence that she forbids. The\npassions which reason cannot restrain are not to be bridled by religion.\nIt is in vain that we hope to derive succors from religion if we despise\nand refuse what nature offers us. Religion leaves men just such as\nnature and habit have made them; and if it produce any changes on some\nfew, I believe I have proved that those changes are not always for the\nbetter.\n\nCongratulate yourself, then, Madam, on being born with good\ndispositions, of having received such honest principles, which shall\ncarry you through life in the practice of virtue, and in the love of\na fine and exalted taste for the rational pleasures of our nature.\nContinue to be the happiness of your family, which esteems and honors\nyou. Continue to diffuse around you the blessings you enjoy; continue to\nperform only those actions which are esteemed by all the world, and all\nmen will respect you. Respect yourself, and others will respect you.\nThese are the legitimate sentiments of virtue and of happiness. Labor\nfor your own happiness, and you will promote that of your family,\nwho will love you in proportion to the good you do it. Allow me to\ncongratulate myself if, in all I have said, I have in any measure swept\nfrom your mind those clouds of fanaticism which obscure the reason;\nand to felicitate you on your having escaped from vague theories of\nimagination. Abjure superstition, which is calculated only to make you\nmiserable; let the morality of humanity be your uniform religion; that\nyour happiness may be constant, let reason be your guide; that virtue\nmay be the idol of your soul, cultivate and love only what is virtuous\nand good in the world; and if there be a God who is interested in\nthe happiness of his creatures, if there be a God full of justice\nand goodness, he will not be angry with you for having consulted\nyour reason; if there be another life, your happiness in it cannot be\ndoubtful, if God rewards every one according to the good done here.\n\nI am, with respect, &c.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER XII. Of the small Consequence to be attached to Men's\nSpeculations, and the Indulgence which should be extended to them\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 notions\nwhich have for a long time agitated it; and the inefficacy of those\npretended succors which religious men boasted they could furnish, is now\napparent to you. You perceive the evident dangers which result from a\nsystem that serves only to render men enemies to individual and general\nhappiness. I see with pleasure that reason has not lost its authority\nover your mind, and that it is sufficient to show you the truth that you\nmay embrace it. You may congratulate yourself on this, which proves the\nsolidity of your judgment. For it is glorious to give one's self up to\nreason, and to be the votary of common sense. Prejudice so arms mankind\nthat the world is full of people who slight their judgment; nay, who\nresist the most obvious pleas of their understanding. Their eyes, long\nshut to the light of truth, are unable to bear its rays; but they can\nendure the glimmerings of superstition, which plunges them in still\ndarker obscurity.\n\nI am not, however, astonished at the embarrassment you have hitherto\nfelt, nor at your cautious examination of my opinions, which are better\nunderstood the more thoroughly they are examined and compared with\nthose they oppose. It is impossible to annihilate at once deep-rooted\nprejudices. The mind of man appears to waver in a void when those ideas\nare attacked on which it has long rested. It finds itself in a new\nworld, wherein all is unknown. Every system of opinion is but the effect\nof habit The mind has as great difficulty to disengage itself from its\ncustom of thinking, and reflect on new ideas, as the body has to remain\nquiescent after it has long been accustomed to exercise. Should you,\nfor instance, propose to your friend to leave off snuff, as a practice\nneither healthful nor agreeable in company, he will not probably listen\nto you, or if he should, it will be with extreme pain that he can bring\nhimself to renounce a habit long familiarized to him.\n\nIt is precisely the same with all our prejudices; those of religion have\nthe most powerful hold of us. From infancy we have been familiarized\nwith them; habit has made them a sort of want we cannot dispense\nwith: our mode of thinking is formed, and familiar to us; our mind is\naccustomed to engage itself with certain classes of objects; and our\nimagination fancies that it wanders in chaos when it is not fed with\nthose chimeras to which it had been long accustomed. Phantoms the most\nhorrible are even clear to it; objects the most familiar to it, if\nviewed with the calm eye of reason, are disagreeable and revolting.\n\nReligion, or rather its superstitions, in consequence of the marvellous\nand bizarre notions it engenders, gives the mind continual exercise; and\nits votaries fancy they are doomed to a dangerous inaction when they are\nsuddenly deprived of the objects on which their imagination exerted\nits powers. Yet is this exercise so much the more necessary as the\nimagination is by far the most lively faculty of the mind; Hence,\nwithout doubt, it becomes necessary men should replace stale fooleries\nby those which are novel. This is, moreover, the true reason why\ndevotion so often affords consolation in great disgraces, gives\ndiversion for chagrin, and replaces the strongest passions, when they\nhave been quenched by excess of pleasure and dissipation. The marvellous\narguments, chimeras multiply as religion furnishes activity and\noccupation to the fancy; habit renders them familiar, and even\nnecessary; terrors themselves even minister food to the imagination; and\nreligion, the religion of priestcraft, is full of terrors. Active and\nunquiet spirits continually require this nourishment; the imagination\nrequires to be alternately alarmed and consoled; and there are thousands\nwho cannot accustom themselves to tranquillity and the sobriety of\nreason. Many persons also require phantoms to make them religious, and\nthey find these succors in the dogmas of priestcraft.\n\nThese reflections will serve to explain to you the continual variations\nto which many persons are subject, especially on the subject of\nreligion. Sensible, like barometers, you behold them wavering without\nceasing; their imagination floats, and is never fixed; so often as you\nfind them freely given up to the blackness of superstition, so often\nmay you behold them the slaves of pernicious prejudices. Whenever they\ntremble at the feet of their priests, then are their necks under the\nyoke. Even people of spirit and understanding in other affairs are not\naltogether exempt from these variations of mental religious temperament;\nbut their judgment is too frequently the dupe of the imagination. And\nothers, again, timid and doubting, without spirit, are in perpetual\ntorment.\n\nWhat do I say? Man is not, and cannot always be, the same. His frame is\nexposed to revolutions and perpetual vicissitudes; the thoughts of his\nmind necessarily vary with the different degrees of changes to which his\nbody is exposed. When the body is languid and fatigued, the mind has not\nusually much inclination to vigor and gayety. The debility of the\nnerves commonly annihilates the energies of the soul, although it be\nso remarkably distinguished from the body; persons of a bilious and\nmelancholy temperament are rarely the subjects of joy; dissipation\nimportunes some, gayety fatigues others. Exactly after the same fashion,\nthere are some who love to nourish sombre ideas, and these religion\nsupplies them. Devotion affects them like the vapors; superstition is\nan inveterate malady, for which there is no cure in medicine. And it is\nimpossible to keep him free from superstition, whose breast, the slave\nof fear, was never sensible of courage; nay, soldiers and sailors, the\nbravest of men, have too often been the victims of superstition. It is\neducation alone that operates in radically curing the human mind of its\nerrors.\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 to\nthink of those secret transitions which our priests would force on you,\nas the inspirations of heaven, as divine solicitations, the effects\nof grace; though they are, nevertheless, only the effects of those\nvicissitudes to which our constitution is liable, and which affect\nthe robust, as well as the feeble; the man of health, as well as the\nvaletudinarian.\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 shall\nfind reason to be satisfied, that there is little or no occasion that\nwe should have our minds disturbed during our last moments. It is then,\nsay they, that it is necessary to attend to the condition of man; it is\nthen that man, undeceived as to the things of this life, acknowledges\nhis errors. But there is, perhaps, no idea in the whole circle of\ntheology more unreasonable than this, of which the credulous, in all\nages, have been the dupes. Is it not at the time of a man's dissolution\nthat he is the least capable of judging of his true interest? His bodily\nframe racked, it may be, with pain, his mind is necessarily weakened or\nchafed; or if he should be free from excruciating pain, the lassitude\nand yielding of nature to the irrevocable decrees of fate at death,\nunfit a man for reasoning and judging of the sophisms that are proposed\nas panaceas for all his errors. There are, without doubt, as strange\nnotions as those of religion; but who knows that body and soul sink\nalike 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 what\nis beneficial to man. The judgments of the dying can have no weight with\nmen in good health; and they are the veriest impostors who lend them\nbelief. The truth can alone be known, when both body and mind are in\ngood health. No man, without evincing an insensible and ridiculous\npresumption, can answer for the ideas he is occupied with, when worn out\nwith sickness and disease; yet have the inhuman priests the effrontery\nto persuade the credulous to take as their examples the words and\nactions of men necessarily deranged in intellect by the derangement of\ntheir corporeal frame. In short, since the ideas of men necessarily vary\nwith the different variations of their bodies, the man who presumes to\nreason on his death bed with the man in health, arrogates what ought not\nto 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\nthe same 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 our\nbodies fatigued. We think justly when our body is in health; that is to\nsay, when all its parts are fulfilling their various functions. There\nis one mode of thinking, or one state of mind, which in health we call\nuncertainty, and which we rarely experience when our frame is in its\nordinary condition. We do not then reason justly, when our frame is not\nin 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 to\nreflect, 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 as\nwe would, but as our convictions increase, or become weakened? Man is\nnot, then, for one instant, the master of his ideas, which are every\nmoment excited by objects over which he has no control, and causes\nwhich depend not on his will or exertions. St. Augustine himself bears\ntestimony to this truth: \"There is not,\" says he, \"one man who is at all\ntimes master of that which presents itself to his spirit.\" Have we\nnot, then, good reason to conclude, that our thoughts are entirely\nindifferent to God, seeing they are excited by objects over which we\nhave no control, and, by consequence, that they cannot be offensive to\nthe 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 by\nthe changes which take place in the minds of his creatures. They ought\nto know that this God, if he is wise, has no occasion to be troubled\nwith the ideas that enter the mind of man; that if they do not\ncomprehend all his perfections, it is because their comprehension is\nlimited. 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 their\nconsequences 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 whom\nhe himself created imperfect, and possessed of a deficiency of reason\nand 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, and\nservices they cannot perform. The ideas they have formed of this unknown\nbeing are almost always borrowed from those of men of power, who,\njealous of their power and respect from their subjects, pretend that it\nis the duty of these last to have for them sentiments of submission,\nand punish with rigor those who, by their conduct or their discourse,\nannounce sentiments not sufficiently respectful to their superiors. Thus\nyou see, Madam, that God has been fashioned by the clergy on the model\nof an uneasy despot, suspicious of his subjects, jealous of the opinions\nthey may entertain of him, and who, to secure his power, cruelly\nchastises those who have not littleness of mind sufficient to flatter\nhis vanity, nor courage enough to resist his power.\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 of\nthe priests is founded, which they persuade themselves is very sensible\nand agreeable to the opinions of mankind; and which is very seriously\ninsulted, they say, if men think differently; and which will punish with\nseverity those who abandon themselves to the guidance of reason, the\nglory of man. Nothing can be more pernicious to the human kind than this\nfatal madness, which deranges all our ideas of a just God--of a God,\ngood, wise, all-powerful, and whose glory and power neither the devotion\nnor rebellion of his creatures can affect. In consequence of these\nimpertinent suppositions of the priesthood, men have ever been afraid to\nform notions agreeable to the mysterious Sovereign of the universe, on\nwhom they are dependent; their mind is put to the torture to divine his\nincomprehensible nature, and, in their fear of displeasing him, they\nhave assigned to him human attributes, without perceiving that when they\npretend to honor him, they dishonor Deity, and that being compelled to\nbestow on him qualities that are incompatible with Deity, they actually\nannihilate from their mind the pure representation of Deity, as\nwitnessed in all nature. It is thus, that in almost all the religions on\nthe face of the earth, under the pretext of making known the Divinity,\nand explaining his views towards mortals, the priests have rendered\nhim incomprehensible, and have actually promulgated, under the garb of\nreligion, nothing save absurdities, by which, if we admit them, we shall\ndestroy 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 make\ntheir Deity the object of their meditations; that they cannot reason\njustly, because never have any but obscure and absurd ideas; they are\nalmost always in uncertainty, and never agree with themselves, because\ntheir principles are replete with doubt; that they always tremble,\nbecause they imagine that it is very dangerous to be deceived; that they\ndispute without ceasing, because that it is impossible to be convinced\nof any thing, when they reason on objects of which they know nothing,\nand which the imaginations of men are forced to paint differently;\nin fine, that they cruelly torment one another about opinions equally\nuninteresting, though they attach to them the greatest importance, and\nbecause the vanity of the one party never allows it to subscribe to the\nreveries 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 terror;\nit is thus that religion has become the signal of so many combats, and\nhas always been the true apple of discord among unquiet mortals, who\nalways dispute with the greatest heat, on subjects of which they can\nnever have any true ideas. They make it a duty to think and reason\non his attributes; and they can never arrive at any just conclusions,\nbecause their mind is never in a condition to form true notions of\nwhat strikes their senses. In the impossibility of knowing the Deity\nby themselves, they have recourse to the opinion of others, whom they\nconsider more adroit in theology, and who pretend to an they that\nintimate acquaintance with God, being inspired by him, and having\nsecret intelligence of his purposes with regard to the human kind. Those\nprivileged men teach nothing to the nations of the earth, except what\ntheir reveries have reduced to a system, without giving them ideas\nthat are clear and definite. They paint God under characters the most\nagreeable to their own interests; they make of him a good monarch for\nthose who blindly submit to their tenets, but terrible to those who\nrefuse to blindly follow them.\n\nThus you perceive, Madam, what those men are who have obviously made of\nthe Deity an object so bizarre as they announce him, and who, to render\ntheir opinions the more sacred, have pretended that he is grievously\noffended when we do not admit implicitly the ideas they promulgate of\nGod. In the books of Moses God defines himself, _I am that I am_; yet\ndoes this inspired writer detail the history of this God as a tyrant who\ntempts men, and who punishes them for being tempted; who exterminated\nall the human kind by a deluge, except a few of one family, because one\nman had fallen; in a word, who, in all his conduct, behaves as a\ndespot, whose power dispenses with all the rules of justice, reason, and\ngoodness.\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, but\nwho confounds the innocent with the guilty, who has mingled injustice\nand cruelty, in causing his own Son to be put to death to expiate\nthe crimes of the human kind; though they are incessantly sinning\nand repenting for pardon. They make of him a being full of wisdom and\nforesight, yet insensible to the folly and shortsightedness of mortals.\nThey make him a reasonable being who becomes angry at the thoughts of\nhis creatures, though involuntary, and consequently necessary; thoughts\nwhich he himself puts into their heads; and who condemns them to eternal\npunishments if they believe not in reveries that are incompatible with\nthe divine attributes, or who dare to doubt whether God can possess\nqualities that are not capable of being reconciled 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 Deity,\nor even to force them into absolute denial of the same? It is impossible\nto admit, in effect, the doctrine of the Deity of priestcraft, in which\nwe constantly see infinite perfections, allied with imperfections the\nmost striking; in which, when we reflect but momentarily, we shall find\nthat it cannot produce but disorder in the imagination, and leaves it\nwandering among errors that reduce it to despair, or some impostors,\nwho, to subjugate mankind, have wished to throw them into embarrassment,\nconfound their reason, and fill them with terror. Such appear, in\neffect, to be the motives of those who have the arrogance to pretend\nto a secret knowledge, which they distribute among mankind, though they\nhave no knowledge even of themselves. They always paint God under the\ntraits of an inaccessible tyrant, who never shows himself but to his\nministers and favorites, who please to veil him from the eyes of the\nvulgar; and who are violently irritated when they find any who oppose\ntheir pretensions, or when they refuse to believe the priests and their\nunintelligible farragoes.\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 men,\neither they are themselves deceived, or they wish to deceive us. Their\nfaith, or their belief in God, is merely an acceptance of what their\npriests have taught them of a Being whose existence they have rendered\nmore than doubtful to those who would reason and meditate. The Deity\ncannot, assuredly, be the being whom the Christians admit on the word of\ntheir theologians. Is there, in good truth, a man in the world who can\nform any idea of a spirit? If we ask the priests what a spirit is, they\nwill tell us that a spirit is an immaterial being who has none of\nthe passions of which men are the subjects. But what is an immaterial\nspirit?\n\nIt is a being that has none of the qualities which we can fathom; that\nhas 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\nof God, 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 other?\nWe cannot admit it; and we are authorized to conclude, that when the\npriests profess to believe in God, either they know not what they say,\nor 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 of\nhim, they have discovered them to be incomprehensible, or replete with\ncontradiction. Do not be astonished if they never listen, in reasoning,\nto any arguments that oppose themselves to common sense, and seek, for\nthe existence of the priests' Deity, other proofs than have yet been\noffered mankind. His existence cannot be demonstrated in revelations,\nwhich we discover, on examination, to be the work of imposture;\nrevelations sap the foundations laid down for belief in a Divinity,\nwhich they would wish to establish.\n\nThis existence cannot be founded on the qualities which our priests\nhave assigned to the Divinity, seeing that, in the association of these\nqualities, there only results a God whom we cannot comprehend, and by\nconsequence of whom we can form no certain ideas. This existence cannot\nbe founded on the moral qualities which our priests attribute to the\nDivinity, seeing these are irreconcilable in the same subject,\nwho cannot be at once good and evil, just and unjust, merciful and\nimplacable, wise and the 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 on\nthe marvellous order which appears in the universe. Those to whom these\nmotives for believing in the existence of the Divinity do not appear\nconvincing, find not, in any of the religions in the world, motives more\npersuasive; for all systems of theology, framed for the exercise of the\nimagination, plunge us into more uncertainty respecting their evidence,\nwhen they appeal to nature for proofs of what they advance.\n\nWhat, then, are we to think of the God of the clergy? Can we think that\nhe 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 alternately?\nWhat idea shall we form of those men who regard matter as eternal, as\nactuated on by laws peculiar to itself; as sufficiently powerful to\nproduce itself under all the forms we behold; as perpetually exerting\nitself in nourishing and destroying itself, in combining and dissolving\nitself; as incapable of love or of hatred; as deprived of the faculties\nof _intelligence_ and _sentiment_ known to belong to beings of our\nspecies, but capable of supporting those beings whose organization has\nmade them intelligent, sensible, and reasonable?\n\nWhat shall we say of those Freethinkers who find neither good nor evil,\nneither order nor disorder, in the universe; that all things are but\nrelative to different conditions of beings, of which they have evidence;\nand that all that happens in the universe is necessary, and subjected to\ndestiny? 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\ncall that _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_; they\ncall that _Destiny_, or _Fate_, which others call _God_, whose laws are\nalways 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 who\nare reciprocally beneficial to us. Nevertheless, it is to this degree of\nextravagance that the baneful ideas of religion have carried the\nhuman mind. Harassed, and set on by their priests, men have hated and\nassassinated each other, because that in religious matters they agree\nnot to one creed. Vanity has made some imagine that they are better than\nothers, more intelligible, although they see that theology is a language\nwhich they neither understand, nor which they themselves could invent.\nThe very name of Freethinker suffices to irritate them, and to arm the\nfury of others, who repeat, without ceasing, the name of God, without\nhaving any precise idea of the Deity. If, by chance, they imagine that\nthey have any notions of him, they are only confused, contradictory,\nincompatible, and senseless notions, which have been inspired in their\ninfancy by their priests, and those who, as we have seen, have painted\nGod in all those traits which their imagination furnished, or those\nwho appear more conformed to their passions and interests than to the\nwell-being of 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\nof reason, 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 for\nhaving been blind or devoid of reason. The Freethinkers, as foolish\nas they are supposed, are beings less insensible than those who make\nprofessions of believing in a God full of qualities that destroy one\nanother; they are less dangerous than the adorers of a changeable Deity,\nwho, they imagine, is pleased with the extermination of a large\nportion of mankind, on account of their opinions. Our speculations are\nindifferent to God, whose glory man cannot tarnish--whose power mortals\ncannot abridge. They may, however, be advantageous to ourselves; they\nmay be perfectly indifferent to society, whose happiness they may not\naffect; or they may be the reverse of all this. For it is evident that\nthe opinions of men do not influence 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 is\nfully convinced on one point, is not satisfied on another. All men have\nnot the same eyes, nor the same brains; all have not the same ideas, the\nsame education, or the same opinions; they never agree wholly, when\nthey have the temerity to reason on matters that are enveloped in the\nobscurity of imaginative fiction, and which cannot be' subject to the\nusual evidence accompanying matters of report, or historic relation.\n\nMen do not long dispute on objects that are cognizable to their senses,\nand which they can submit to the test of experience. The number\nof self-evident truths on which men agree is very small; and the\nfundamentals of morality are among this number. It is obvious to all\nmen of sense, that beings, united in society, require to be regulated\nby justice, that they ought to respect the happiness of each other,\nthat mutual succor is indispensable; in a word, that they are obliged to\npractise virtue, and to be useful to society, for personal happiness.\nIt is evident to demonstration, that the interest of our preservation\nexcites us to moderate our desires, and put a bridle on our passions;\nto renounce dangerous habits, and to abstain from vices which can only\ninjure our fortune, and undermine our health. These truths are evident\nto every being whose passions have not dominion over his reason; they\nare totally independent of theological speculations, which have neither\nevidence nor demonstration, and which our mind can never verify;\nthey have nothing in common with the religious opinions on which\nthe imagination soars from earth to sky, nor with the fanaticism and\ncredulity which are so frequently producing among mankind the most\nopposite principles to morality and the well-being of society.\n\nThey who are of the Freethinkers' opinions are not more dangerous\nthan they who are of the priests' opinions. In short, Christianity\nhas produced 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 sacrifice\nthe interests of society, of sovereigns, and their subjects, to their\nown 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 from\nthe commission of crimes, and the violation of duties the most sacred.\n\nBesides, I believe that I have already proved that the morality\nof superstition 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 interests;\nwhich, alas! are too often the result of cruel and wicked purposes. On\nthe contrary, the Freethinker, who has no morality but what he draws\nfrom the nature and character of man, and the constant events which\ntranspire in society, has a certain morality that is not founded either\non the caprice of circumstances or the prejudices of mankind; a morality\nthat tells him when he does evil, and blames him for the evil so done,\nand that is superior to the morality of the intolerant fanatic and\npersecutor.\n\nYou thus perceive, Madam, on which side the morality of the Freethinkers\nleans, what advantages it possesses over that inculcated on the\nsuperstitious devotee, who knows no other rule than the caprice of\nhis priest, nor any other morality than what suits the interest of the\nclergy, nor any other virtues than such as make him the slave of their\nwill, and which are too often in opposition to the great interests\nof mankind. Thus you perceive, that what is understood by the natural\nmorality of the Freethinker, is much more constant and more sure than\nthat of the superstitious, who believe they can render themselves\nagreeable to God by the intercession of priests. If the Freethinker is\nblind or corrupted, by not knowing his duties which nature prescribes\nto him, it is precisely in the same way as the superstitious, whose\ninvisible motives and sacred guides prevent him not from going\noccasionally astray.\n\nThese reflections will serve to confirm what I have already said,\nto prove 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, and\non the caprice of those who speak of the Deity in a language too often\ncontrary 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\nis uniform, and replete with obvious duties, which rest not on the\ndictation of priests, blabbing chitchat they do not understand. If it be\nthis morality which I have defined, that makes us what we are, ought we\nnot to labor strenuously for the happiness of our race? If it be this\nmorality that makes us reasonable; that enables us to distinguish good\nfrom evil, the useful from the hurtful; that makes us sociable, and\nenables us to live in society to receive and repay mutual benefits; we\nought at least to respect all those who are its friends. If it be this\nmorality which sets bounds to our temper, it is that which interdicts\nthe commission in thought, word, or action, of what would injure\nanother, or disturb the happiness of society. If it attach us to the\npreservation of all that is dear to us, it points out how by a certain\nline of conduct we may preserve ourselves; for its laws, clear and of\neasy practice, inflict on those who disobey them instant punishment,\nfear, and remorse; on the other hand, the observance of its duties is\naccompanied with immediate and real advantages, and notwithstanding the\ndepravity which prevails on earth, vice always finds itself punished,\nand virtue is not always deprived of the satisfaction it yields, of the\nesteem of men, and the recompense of society; even if men are in other\nrespects unjust, they will concede to the virtuous the due meed of\npraise.\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 shall\nbe truly happy in this world, and we shall have nothing to fear in the\nnext.\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\nand reasoning; 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 fundamental\nlaws, those which are obviously founded on the God of Nature, and on\nthe immutable and necessary circumstances of things cognizable to the\nfaculties of sentient natures. The Indian, the Chinese, the savage,\nperceives these self-evident laws, whenever he is not carried headlong\nby his passions into crime and error. In fine, these laws, so true, and\nso evident, never can appear uncertain, obscure, or false, as are those\nsuperstitious chimeras of the imagination, which knaves have substituted\nfor the truths of nature and the dicta of common sense; and those\ndevotees who know no other laws than those of the caprices of their\npriests, necessarily obey a morality little calculated to produce\npersonal or general happiness, but much calculated to lead to\nextravagance and inconvenient practices.\n\nHence, charming Eugenia, you will allow mankind to think as they please,\nand judge of them after their actions. Oppose reason to their systems,\nwhen they are pernicious to themselves or others; remove their\nprejudices if you can, that they may not become the victims of their\ncaprices; show them the truth, which may always remove error; banish\nfrom their minds the phantoms which disturb them; advise them not to\nmeditate on the mysteries of their priests; bid them renounce all those\nillusions they have substituted for morality; and advise them to turn\ntheir thoughts on that which conduces to their happiness. Meditate\nyourself on your own nature, and the duties which it imposes on you.\nFear those chastisements which follow inattention to this law. Be\nambitious to be approved by your own understanding, and you will rarely\nfail to receive the applauses of the human kind, as a good member of\nsociety.\n\nIf you wish to meditate, think with the greatest strength of your\nmind on 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 will\nyou, in good truth, yield to the impulse of your heart when reason\nis your guide; then will you consult in the calmness of passion, and\ncounsel yourself on the advantages of virtue, and the consequences of\nits want; and you may flatter yourself that you cannot be displeasing to\na wise God, though you disbelieve absurdities, nor agreeable to a good\nGod in doing things hurtful to yourself or to others.\n\nLeaving you now to your own reflections, I shall terminate the series of\nLetters you have allowed me to address you. Bidding you an affectionate\nfarewell, I am truly yours.","title":"Letters To Eugenia; Or, A Preservative Against Religious Prejudices","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":74724}