{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_8910/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_8910","id":"gutenberg_8910","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8910","summary":null,"tags":["Atheism","Category: French Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Materialism","Philosophy and religion","Psychology"],"text":"Produced by Freethought Archives and Distributed Proofreaders\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE SYSTEM OF NATURE;\n\nor,\n\n_THE LAWS_ of the MORAL AND PHYSICAL WORLD.\n\n\n\nTRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL FRENCH OF M. DE MIRABAUD\n\n\n\nVOL. II.\n\n\n\n\n\nPRODUCTION NOTES: First published in French in 1770 under the pseudonym\nof Mirabaud. This e-book based on a facsimile reprint of an English\ntranslation originally published 1820-21. This e-text covers the second\nof the original two volumes.\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n      PART II.  Of the Divinity.--Proofs of his existence.--\n      Of his attributes.--Of his influence over the happiness of man.\n\n\nCHAP. I. The origin of man's ideas upon the Divinity.\n\nCHAP. II. Of mythology.--Of theology\n\nCHAP. III. Of the confused and contradictory ideas of theology.\n\nCHAP. IV. Examination of the proofs of the existence of the Divinity, as\ngiven by Clarke.\n\nCHAP. V. Examination of the proofs offered by Descartes, Malebranche,\nNewton, &c.\n\nCHAP. VI. Of Pantheism; or of the natural ideas of the Divinity.\n\nCHAP. VII. Of Theism--Of the System of Optimism--Of Final Causes\n\nCHAP. VIII. Examination of the Advantages which result from Man's\nNotions on the Divinity;--of their Influence upon Morals;--upon\nPolitics;--upon Science;--upon the Happiness of Nations, and that of\nindividuals.\n\nCHAP. IX. Theological Notions cannot be the Basis of\nMorality.--Comparison between Theological Ethics and Natural\nMorality--Theology prejudicial to the Human Mind.\n\nCHAP. X. Man can form no Conclusion from the Ideas which are offered him\nof the Divinity.--Of their want of just Inference.--Of the Inutility of\nhis Conduct.\n\nCHAP. XI Defence of the Sentiments contained in this Work.--Of\nImpiety.--Do there exist Atheists?\n\nCHAP. XII. Is what is termed Atheism, compatible with Morality?\n\nCHAP. XIII. Of the motives which lead to what is falsely called\nAtheism.--Can this System be dangerous?--Can it be embraced by the\nIlliterate?\n\nCHAP. XIV. A summary of the Code of Nature.\n\n\nA Brief Sketch of the Life and Writings of M. de Mirabaud\n\n\n\n\n\nMIRABAUD'S SYSTEM OF NATURE\n\nTranslated from the Original BY SAMUEL WILKINSON\n\n\n\n\n\n     PART II.\n\n     ON THE DIVINITY:--PROOFS OF HIS EXISTENCE:--OF HIS ATTRIBUTES:\n     OF HIS INFLUENCE OVER THE HAPPINESS OF MAN.\n\n\n\nCHAP. I.\n\n_The Origin of Man's Ideas upon the Divinity._\n\n\nIf man possessed the courage, if he had the requisite industry to recur\nto the source of those opinions which are most deeply engraven on his\nbrain; if he rendered to himself a faithful account of the reasons which\nmake him hold these opinions as sacred; if he coolly examined the basis\nof his hopes, the foundation of his fears, he would find that it very\nfrequently happens, those objects, or those ideas which move him most\npowerfully, either have no real existence, or are words devoid of\nmeaning, which terror has conjured up to explain some sudden disaster;\nthat they are often phantoms engendered by a disordered imagination,\nmodified by ignorance; the effect of an ardent mind distracted by\ncontending passions, which prevent him from either reasoning justly, or\nconsulting experience in his judgment; that this mind often labours with\na precipitancy that throws his intellectual faculties into confusion;\nthat bewilders his ideas; that consequently he gives a substance and a\nform to chimeras, to airy nothings, which he afterwards idolizes from\nsloth, reverences from prejudice.\n\nA sensible being placed in a nature where every part is in motion, has\nvarious feelings, in consequence of either the agreeable or disagreeable\neffects which he is obliged to experience from this continued action and\nre-action; in consequence he either finds himself happy or miserable;\naccording to the quality of the sensations excited in him, he will love\nor fear, seek after or fly from, the real or supposed causes of such\nmarked effects operated on his machine. But if he is ignorant of nature,\nif he is destitute of experience, he will frequently deceive himself as\nto these causes; for want of either capability or inclination to recur\nback to them, he will neither have a true knowledge of their energy, nor\na clear idea of their mode of acting: thus until reiterated experience\nshall have formed his ideas, until the mirror of truth shall have shewn\nhim the judgment he ought to make, he will be involved in trouble, a\nprey to incertitude, a victim to credulity.\n\nMan is a being who brings with him nothing into the world save an\naptitude to feeling in a manner more or less lively according to his\nindividual organization: he has no innate knowledge of any of the causes\nthat act upon him: by degrees his faculty of feeling discovers to him\ntheir various qualities; he learns to judge of them; time familiarizes\nhim with their properties; he attaches ideas to them, according to\nthe manner in which they have affected him; these ideas are correct or\notherwise, in a ratio to the soundness of his organic structure:\nhis judgment is faulty or not, as these organs are either well or\nill-constituted; in proportion as they are competent to afford him sure\nand reiterated experience.\n\nThe first moments of man are marked by his wants; that is to say, the\nfirst impulse he receives is to conserve his existence; this he would\nnot be able to maintain without the concurrence of many analogous\ncauses: these wants in a sensible being, manifest themselves by a\ngeneral languor, a sinking, a confusion in his machine, which gives him\nthe consciousness of a painful sensation: this derangement subsists, is\neven augmented, until the cause suitable to remove it re-establishes\nthe harmony so necessary to the existence of the human frame. Want,\ntherefore, is the first evil man experiences; nevertheless it is\nrequisite to the maintenance of his existence. Was it not for this\nderangement of his body, which obliges him to furnish its remedy, he\nwould not be warned of the necessity of preserving the existence he has\nreceived. Without wants man would be an insensible machine, similar to\na vegetable; like that he would be incapable of preserving himself;\nhe would not be competent to using the means required to conserve his\nbeing. To his wants are to be ascribed his passions; his desires;\nthe exercise of his corporeal functions; the play of his intellectual\nfaculties: they are his wants that oblige him to think; that determine\nhis will, that induce him to act; it is to satisfy them or rather to\nput an end to the painful sensations excited by their presence, that\naccording to his capacity, to the natural sensibility of his soul,\nto the energies which are peculiar to himself, he gives play to his\nfaculties, exerts the activity of his bodily strength, or displays the\nextensive powers of his mind. His wants being perpetual, he is obliged\nto labour without relaxation, to procure objects competent to satisfy\nthem. In a word, it is owing to his multiplied wants that man's energy\nis kept in a state of continual activity: as soon as he ceases to\nhave wants, he falls into inaction--becomes listless--declines into\napathy--sinks into a languor that is incommodious to his feelings or\nprejudicial to his existence: this lethargic state of weariness lasts\nuntil new wants, by giving him fresh activity, rouse his dormant\nfaculties--throw off his stupor--re-animate his vigour, and destroy the\nsluggishness to which he had become a prey.\n\nFrom hence it will be obvious that evil is necessary to man; without it\nhe would neither be in a condition to know that which injures him; to\navoid its presence; or to seek his own welfare: without this stimulus,\nhe would differ in nothing from insensible, unorganized beings: if those\nevanescent evils which he calls _wants_, did not oblige him to call\nforth his faculties, to set his energies in motion, to cull experience,\nto compare objects, to discriminate them, to separate those which have\nthe capabilities to injure him, from those which possess the means\nto benefit him, he would be insensible to happiness--inadequate to\nenjoyment. In short, _without evil man would be ignorant of good_; he\nwould be continually exposed to perish like the leaf on a tree. He would\nresemble an infant, who, destitute of experience, runs the risque of\nmeeting his destruction at every step he takes, unguarded by his nurse.\nWhat the nurse is to the child, experience is to the adult; when either\nare wanting, these children of different lustres generally go astray:\nfrequently encounter disaster. Without evil he would be unable to judge\nof any thing; he would have no preference; his will would be without\nvolition, he would be destitute of passions; desire would find no place\nin his heart; he would not revolt at the most disgusting objects; he\nwould not strive to put them away; he would neither have stimuli\nto love, nor motives to fear any thing; he would be an insensible\nautomaton; he would no longer be a man.\n\nIf no evil had existed in this world, man would never have dreamt of\nthose numerous divinities, to whom he has rendered such various modes\nof worship. If nature had permitted him easily to satisfy all his\nregenerating wants, if she had given him none but agreeable sensations,\nhis days would have uninterruptedly rolled on in one perpetual\nuniformity; he would never have discovered his own nakedness; he would\nnever have had motives to search after the unknown causes of things--to\nmeditate in pain. Therefore man, always contented, would only have\noccupied himself with satisfying his wants; with enjoying the present,\nwith feeling the influence of objects, that would unceasingly warn him\nof his existence in a mode that he must necessarily approve; nothing\nwould alarm his heart; every thing would be analogous to his existence:\nhe would neither know fear, experience distrust, nor have inquietude\nfor the future: these feelings can only be the consequence of some\ntroublesome sensation, which must have anteriorly affected him, or which\nby disturbing the harmony of his machine, has interrupted the course of\nhis happiness; which has shewn him he is naked.\n\nIndependent of those wants which in man renew themselves every instant;\nwhich he frequently finds it impossible to satisfy; every individual\nexperiences a multiplicity of evils--he suffers from the inclemency\nof the seasons--he pines in penury--he is infected with plague--he\nis scourged by war--he is the victim of famine--he is afflicted with\ndisease--he is the sport of a thousand accidents, &c. This is the reason\nwhy all men are fearful; why the whole human race are diffident. The\nknowledge he has of pain alarms him upon all unknown causes, that is to\nsay, upon all those of which he has not yet experienced the effect; this\nexperience made with precipitation, or if it be preferred, by instinct,\nplaces him on his guard against all those objects from the operation of\nwhich he is ignorant what consequences may result to himself.\n\nHis inquietude is in proportion; his fears keep pace with the extent of\nthe disorder which these objects produce in him; they are measured by\ntheir rarity, that is to say, by the inexperience he has of them; by the\nnatural sensibility of the soul; and by the ardour of his imagination.\nThe wore ignorant man is, the less experience he has, the more he is\nsusceptible of fear; solitude, the obscurity of a forest, silence, and\nthe darkness of night, desolate ruins, the roaring of the wind, sudden,\nconfused noises, are objects of terror to all who are unaccustomed to\nthese things. The uninformed man is a child whom every thing astonishes;\nwho trembles at every thing he encounters: his alarms disappear, his\nfears diminish, his mind becomes calm, in proportion as experience\nfamiliarizes him, more or less, with natural effects; his fears cease\nentirely, as soon as he understands, or believes he understands, the\ncauses that act; or when he knows how to avoid their effects. But if he\ncannot penetrate the causes which disturb him, if he cannot discover the\nagents by whom he suffers, if he cannot find to what account to place\nthe confusion he experiences, his inquietude augments; his fears\nredouble; his imagination leads him astray; it exaggerates his evil;\npaints in a disorderly manner these unknown objects of his terror;\nmagnifies their powers; then making an analogy between them and those\nterrific objects, with whom he is already acquainted, he suggests\nto himself the means he usually takes to mitigate their anger; to\nconciliate their kindness; he employs similar measures to soften the\nanger, to disarm the power, to avert the effects of the concealed cause\nwhich gives birth to his inquietudes, which fills him with anxiety,\nwhich alarms his fears. It is thus his weakness, aided by ignorance,\nrenders him superstitious.\n\nThere are very few men, even in our own day, who have sufficiently\nstudied nature, who are fully apprised of physical causes, or with the\neffects they must necessarily produce. This ignorance, without doubt,\nwas much greater in the more remote ages of the world, when the human\nmind, yet in its infancy, had not collected that experience, taken that\nexpansion, made those strides towards improvement, which distinguishes\nthe present from the past. Savages dispersed, erratic, thinly scattered\nup and down, knew the course of nature either very imperfectly or not\nat all; society alone perfects human knowledge: it requires not only\nmultiplied but combined efforts to unravel the secrets of nature. This\ngranted, all natural causes were mysteries to our wandering ancestors;\nthe entire of nature was an enigma to them; all its phenomena was\nmarvellous, every event inspired terror to beings who were destitute\nof experience; almost every thing, they saw must have appeared to them\nstrange, unusual, contrary to their idea of the order of things.\n\nIt cannot then furnish matter for surprise, if we behold men in the\npresent day trembling at the sight of those objects which have formerly\nfilled their fathers with dismay. _Eclipse, comets, meteors_, were, in\nancient days, subjects of alarm to all the people of the earth: these\neffects, so natural in the eyes of the sound philosopher, who has by\ndegrees fathomed their true causes, have yet the right, possess the\npower, to alarm the most numerous, to excite the fears of the least\ninstructed part of modern nations. The people of the present day, as\nwell as their ignorant ancestors, find something marvellous, believe\nthere is a supernatural agency in all those objects to which their eyes\nare unaccustomed; they consider all those unknown causes as wonderful,\nthat act with a force of which their mind has no idea it is possible\nthe known agents are capable. The ignorant see wonders _prodigies,\nmiracles_, in all those striking effects of which they are unable to\nrender themselves a satisfactory account; all the causes which produce\nthem they think _supernatural_; this, however, really implies nothing\nmore than that they are not familiar to them, or that they have not\nhitherto witnessed natural agents, whose energy was equal to the\nproduction of effects so rare, so astonishing, as those with which their\nsight has been appalled.\n\nBesides the ordinary phenomena to which nations were witnesses without\nbeing competent to unravel the causes, they have in times very remote\nfrom ours, experienced calamities, whether general or local, which\nfilled them with the most cruel inquietude; which plunged them into an\nabyss of consternation. The traditions of all people, the annals of all\nnations, recal, even at this day, melancholy events, physical disasters,\ndreadful catastrophes, which had the effect of spreading universal\nterror among our forefathers, But when history should be silent on these\nstupendous revolutions, would not our own reflection on what passes\nunder our eyes be sufficient to convince us, that all parts of our globe\nhave been, and following the course of things, will necessarily be\nagain violently agitated, overturned, changed, overflowed, in a state of\nconflagration? Vast continents have been inundated, seas breaking their\nlimits have usurped the dominion of the earth; at length retiring,\nthese waters have left striking, proofs of their presence, by the marine\nvestiges of shells, skeletons of sea fish, &c. which the attentive\nobserver meets with at every step, in the bowels of those fertile\ncountries we now inhabit--subterraneous fires have opened to themselves\nthe most frightful volcanoes, whose craters frequently issue destruction\non every side. In short, the elements unloosed, have at various times,\ndisputed among themselves the empire of our globe; this exhibits\nevidence of the fact, by those vast heaps of wreck, those stupendous\nruins spread over its surface. What, then, must have been the fears of\nmankind, who in those countries believed he beheld the entire of nature\narmed against his peace, menacing with destruction his very abode? What\nmust have been the inquietude of a people taken thus unprovided, who\nfancied they saw nature cruelly labouring to their annihilation? Who\nbeheld a world ready to be dashed into atoms; who witnessed the earth\nsuddenly rent asunder; whose yawning chasm was the grave of large\ncities, whole provinces, entire nations? What ideas must mortals, thus\noverwhelmed with terror, form to themselves of the irresistible cause\nthat could produce such extended effects? Without doubt they did not\nattribute these wide spreading calamities to nature; neither did they\nconceive they were mere physical causes; they could not suspect she was\nthe author, the accomplice of the confusion she herself experienced;\nthey did not see that these tremendous revolutions, these overpowering\ndisorders, were the necessary result of her immutable laws; that they\ncontributed to the general order by which she subsists; that, in point\nof fact, there was nothing more surprising in the inundation of large\nportions of the earth, in the swallowing up an entire nation, in a\nvolcanic conflagration spreading destruction over whole provinces, than\nthere is in a stone falling to the earth, or the death of a fly; that\neach equally has its spring in the necessity of things.\n\nIt was under these astounding circumstances, that nations, bathed in\nthe most bitter tears, perplexed with the most frightful visions,\nelectrified with terror, not believing there existed on this mundane\nball, causes sufficiently powerful to operate the gigantic phenomena\nthat filled their minds with dismay, carried their streaming eyes\ntowards heaven, where their tremulous fears led them to suppose these\nunknown agents, whose unprovoked enmity destroyed, their earthly\nfelicity, could alone reside.\n\nIt was in the lap of ignorance, in the season of alarm, in the bosom of\ncalamity, that mankind ever formed his first notions of the _Divinity_.\nFrom hence it is obvious that his ideas on this subject are to be\nsuspected, that his notions are in a great measure false, that they are\nalways afflicting. Indeed, upon whatever part of our sphere we cast\nour eyes, whether it be upon the frozen climates of the north, upon the\nparching regions of the south, or under the more temperate zones, we\nevery where behold the people when assailed by misfortunes, have either\nmade to themselves national gods, or else have adopted those which have\nbeen given them by their conquerors; before these beings, either\nof their own creation or adoption, they have tremblingly prostrated\nthemselves in the hour of calamity, soliciting relief; have ignorantly\nattributed to blocks of stone, or to men like themselves, those natural\neffects which were above their comprehension; the inhabitants of many\nnations, not contented with the national gods, made each to himself\none or more gods, which he supposed presided exclusively over his own\nhousehold, from whom he supposed he derived his own peculiar happiness,\nto whom he attributed all his domestic misfortunes. The idea of these\npowerful agents, these supposed distributors of good and evil, was\nalways associated with that of terror; their name was never pronounced\nwithout recalling to man's wind either his own particular calamities or\nthose of his fathers. In many places man trembles at this day, because\nhis progenitors have trembled for thousands of years past. The thought\nof his gods always awakened in man the most afflicting ideas. If he\nrecurred to the source of his actual fears, to the commencement of those\nmelancholy impressions that stamp themselves in his mind when their\nname is announced, he would find it in the conflagrations, in the\nrevolutions, in those extended disasters, that have at various times\ndestroyed large portions of the human race; that overwhelmed with dismay\nthose miserable beings who escaped the destruction of the earth; these\nin transmitting to posterity, the tradition of such afflicting events,\nhave also transmitted to him their fears; have delivered down to their\nsuccessors, those gloomy ideas which their bewildered imaginations,\ncoupled with their barbarous ignorance of natural causes, had formed to\nthem of the anger of their irritated gods, to which their alarm falsely\nattributed these sweeping disasters.\n\nIf the gods of nations had their birth in the bosom of alarm, it was\nagain in that of despair that each individual formed the unknown power\nthat he made exclusively for himself. Ignorant of physical causes,\nunpractised in their mode of action, unaccustomed to their effects,\nwhenever he experienced any serious misfortune, whenever he was\nafflicted with any grievous sensation, he was at a loss how to account\nfor it; he therefore attributed it to his household gods, to whom he\nmade an immediate supplication for assistance, or rather for forbearance\nof further affliction: this disposition in man has been finely\npourtrayed by Aesop in his fable of \"the Waggoner and Hercules.\" The\nmotion which in despight of himself was excited in his machine, his\ndiseases, his troubles, his passions, his inquietude, the painful\nalterations his frame underwent, without his being able to fathom the\ntrue causes; at length death, of which the aspect in so formidable to a\nbeing strongly attached to existence, were effects he looked upon either\nas supernatural, or else he conceived they were repugnant to his actual\nnature; he attributed them to some mighty cause, which maugre all his\nefforts, disposed of him at each, moment. Thus palsied with alarm,\nbenumbed with terror, he pensively meditated upon his sorrows; agitated\nwith fear, he sought for means to avert the calamities that threatened\nhim with destruction; his imagination, thus rendered desperate by\nhis endurance of evils which he found inevitable, formed to him\nthose phantoms which he called gods; before whom he trembled from a\nconsciousness of his own weakness; thus disposed, he endeavoured by\nprostration, by sacrifices, by prayers, to disarm the anger of these\nimaginary beings to which his trepidation had given birth; whom he\nignorantly imagined to be the cause of his misery, whom his fancy\npainted to him as endowed with the power of alleviating his sufferings:\nit was thus in the extremity of his grief, in the exacerbation of his\nmind, weighed down with misfortune, that unhappy man fashioned\nthose chimeras which filled him with the most gloomy ideas, which he\ntransmitted to his posterity, as the surest means of avoiding the evils\nto which he had been himself subjected.\n\nMan never judges of those objects of which he is ignorant, but through\nthe medium of those which come within his knowledge: thus man, taking\nhimself for the model, ascribed will, intelligence, design, projects,\npassions; in a word, qualities analogous to his own, to all those\nunknown causes of which he experienced the action. As soon as a visible\nor supposed cause affects him in an agreeable manner, or in a mode\nfavourable to his existence, he concludes it to be good, to be well\nintentioned towards him: on the contrary, he judges all those to be bad\nin their nature, evilly disposed, to have the intention of injuring him,\nwhich cause him any painful sensations. He attributes views, plans,\na system of conduct like his own, to every thing which to his limited\nideas appears of itself to produce connected effects; to act with\nregularity; to constantly operate in the same manner; that uniformly\nproduces the same sensations in his own person. According to these\nnotions, which he always borrows from himself, from his own peculiar\nmode of action, he either loves or fears those objects which have\naffected him; he in consequence approaches them with confidence or\ntimidity; seeks after them or flies from them in proportion as the\nfeelings they have excited are either pleasant or painful. Having\ntravelled thus far, he presently addresses them; he invokes their aid;\nprays to them for succour; conjures them to cease his afflictions;\nto forbear tormenting him; as he finds himself sensible to presents,\npleased with submission, he tries to win them to his interests by\nhumiliation, by sacrifices; he exercises towards them the hospitality\nhe himself loves; he gives them an asylum; he builds them a dwelling;\nhe furnishes them with costly raiment; he makes their altars smoke with\ndelicious food; he proffers to their acceptance the earliest flowers of\nspring; the finest fruits of autumn; the rich grain of summer; in short\nhe sets before them all those things which he thinks will please them\nthe most, because he himself places the highest value on them. These\ndispositions enable us to account for the formation of tutelary gods,\nof lares, of larvae, which every man makes to himself in savage and\nunpolished nations. Thus we perceive that weak superstitious mortals,\nignorant of truth, devoid of experience, regard as the arbiters of their\nfate, as the dispensers of good and evil, animals, stones, unformed\ninanimate substances, which the effort of their heated imaginations\ntransform into gods, whom they invest with intelligence, whom they\nclothe with desires, to whom they give volition.\n\nAnother disposition which serves to deceive the savage man, which will\nequally deceive those whom reason shall not enlighten on these subjects,\nis his attachment to omens; or the fortuitous concurrence of certain\neffects, with causes which have not produced them; the co-existence\nof these effects with certain causes, which have not the slightest\nconnection with them, has frequently led astray very intelligent beings;\nnations who considered themselves very enlightened; who have either been\ndisinclined or unable to disentangle the one from the other: thus the\nsavage attributes bounty or the will to render him service, to any\nobject whether animate or inanimate, such as a stone of a certain form,\na rock, a mountain, a tree, a serpent, an owl, &c. if every time he\nencounters these objects in a certain position, it should so happen that\nhe is more than ordinarily successful in hunting, that he should take an\nunusual quantity of fish, that he should be victorious in war, or that\nhe should compass any enterprize whatever that he may at that moment\nundertake: the same savage will be quite as gratuitous in attaching\nmalice, wickedness, the determination to injure him, to either the same\nobject in a different position, or any others in a given posture, which\nway have met his eyes on those days when he shall have suffered some\ngrievous accident, have been very unsuccessful in his undertakings,\nunfortunate in the chace, disappointed in his draught of fish: incapable\nof reasoning he connects these effects with causes, that reflection\nwould convince him have nothing in common with each other; that are\nentirely due to physical causes, to necessary circumstances, over which\nneither himself nor his omens have the least controul: nevertheless he\nfinds it much easier to attribute them to these imaginary causes; he\ntherefore _deifies_ them; looks upon them as either his guardian angels,\nor else as his most inveterate enemies. Having invested them with\nsupernatural powers, he becomes anxious to explain to himself their mode\nof action; his self-love prevents his seeking elsewhere for the model:\nthus he assigns them all those motives that actuate himself; he endows\nthem with passions; he gives them design--intelligence--will--imagines\nthey can either injure him or benefit him, as he may render them\npropitious or otherwise to his views: he ends with worshipping them;\nwith paying them divine honours; he appoints them priests; or at least\nalways consults them before he undertakes any object of moment: such\nis their influence, that if they put on the evil position, he will lay\naside the most important undertaking. The savage in this is never more\nthan an infant, that is angry with the object that displeases him; just\nlike the dog who gnaws the stone by which he has been wounded, without\nrecurring to the hand by which it was thrown.\n\nSuch is the foundation of man's faith, in either happy or unhappy omens:\ndevoid of experience, unaccustomed to reason with precision, fearing\nto call in the evidence of truth, he looks upon them either as gods\nthemselves, or else as warnings given him by his other gods, to whom\nhe attributes the faculties of sagacity and foresight, of which he is\nhimself miserably deficient. Ignorance, when involved in disaster, when\nimmersed in trouble, believes a stone, a reptile, a bird, much better\ninstructed than himself. The slender observation of the ignorant only\nserves to render him more superstitious; he sees certain birds announce\nby their flight, by their cries, certain changes in the weather, such as\ncold, heat, rain, storms; he beholds at certain periods, vapours arise\nfrom the bottom of some particular caverns? there needs nothing further\nto impress upon him the belief, that these beings possess the knowledge\nof future events; enjoy the gifts of prophecy: he looks upon them as\nsupernatural agents, employed by his gods: it is thus he becomes the\ndupe to his own credulity.\n\nIf by degrees the truth flashing occasionally on his mind, experience\nand reflection arrive at undeceiving him, with respect to the power,\nthe intelligence, the virtues actually residing in these objects; he at\nleast supposes them put in activity by some secret, some hidden cause;\nthat they are the instruments, employed by some invisible agent, who\nis either friendly or inimical to his welfare. To this concealed\nagent, therefore, he addresses himself; pays him his vows; emplores\nhis assistance; deprecates his wrath; seeks to propitiate him to his\ninterests; is willing to soften his anger; for this purpose he employs\nthe same means, of which he avails himself, either to appease or gain\nover the beings of his own species.\n\nSocieties in their origin, seeing themselves frequently afflicted\nby nature, supposed either the elements, or the concealed powers who\nregulated them, possessed a will, views, wants, desires, similar to\ntheir own. From hence, the sacrifices imagined to nourish them; the\nlibations poured out to them; the steams, the incense to gratify their\nolfactory nerves. Their superstition led them to believe these elements\nor their irritated movers were to be appeased like irritated man, by\nprayers, by humiliation, by presents. Their imagination was ransacked\nto discover the presents that would be most acceptable in their eyes;\nto ascertain the oblations that would be most agreeable, the sacrifices\nthat would most surely propitiate their kindness: as these did not make\nknown their inclinations, man differed with his fellow on those most\nsuitable; each followed his own disposition; or rather each offered what\nwas most estimable in his own eyes; hence arose differences never to be\nreconciled the bitterest animosities; the most unconquerable aversions;\nthe most, destructive jealousies! Thus some brought the fruits of the\nearth, others offered sheaves of corn: some strewed flowers over their\nfanes; some decorated them with the most costly jewels; some served them\nwith meats; others sacrificed lambs, heifers, bulls; at length such\nwas their delirium, such the wildness of their imaginations, that they\nstained their altars with human gore, made oblations of young children\nimmolated virgins, to appease the anger of these supposed deities.\n\nThe old men, as having the most experience, were usually charged with\nthe conduct of these peace-offerings, from whence, the name PRIEST;\n[Greek letters], _presbos_, in the Greek meaning an old man. These\naccompanied them with ceremonies, instituted rites, used precautions by\nconsulting omens; adopted formalities, retraced to their fellow citizens\nthe notions transmitted to them by their forefathers; collected the\nobservations made by their ancestors; repeated the fables they had\nreceived; added commentaries of their own; subjoined supplications\nto the idols at whose shrine they were sacrificing. It is thus\nthe sacerdotal order was established; thus that public worship was\nestablished; by degrees each community formed a body of tenets to be\nobserved by the citizens; these were transmitted from race to race;\nheld sacred out of reverence for their fathers; at length it was deemed\nsacrilege to doubt these pandects in any one particular; even the\nerrors, that had crept into them with time, were beheld with reverential\nawe; he that ventured to reason upon them, was looked upon as an enemy\nto the commonwealth; as one whose impiety drew down upon them the\nvengeance of these adored beings, to which alone imagination had given\nbirth; not contented with adopting the rituals, with following the\nceremonies invented by themselves, one community waged war against\nanother, to oblige it to receive their particular creeds; which the old\nmen who regulated them, declared would infallibly win them the favor of\ntheir tutelary deities: thus very often to conciliate their favor, the\nvictorious party immolated on the altars of their gods, the bodies of\ntheir unhappy captives; frequently they carried their savage barbarity\nthe length of exterminating whole nations, who happened to worship gods\ndifferent from their own: thus it frequently happened, that the friends\nof the serpent, when victorious, covered his altars with the mangled\ncarcases of the worshippers of the stone, whom the fortune of war had\nplaced in their hands: such were the unformed, the precarious elements\nof which rude nations every where availed themselves to compose\ntheir superstitions: they were always a system of conduct invented by\nimagination: conceived in ignorance, organized in misfortune, to render\nthe unknown powers, to whom they believed nature was submitted, either\nfavorable to their views, or to, induce them to cease those afflictions,\nwhich natural causes, for the wisest purposes, were continually heaping\nupon them; thus some irascible, at the same time placable being, was\nalways chosen for the basis of the adopted superstition; it was upon\nthese puerile tenets, upon these absurd notions, that the old men or the\npriests rested their doctrines; founded their rights; established their\nauthority: it was to render these fanciful beings friendly to the race\nof man, that they erected, temples, raised altars, loaded them with\nwealth; in short, it was from such rude foundations, that arose the\nmagnificent structure of superstition; under which man trembled for\nthousands of years: which governed the condition of society, which\ndetermined the actions of the people, gave the tone to the character,\ndeluged the earth with blood, for such a long series of ages. But\nalthough these superstitions were originally invented by savages, they\nstill have the power of regulating the fate of many civilized\nnations, who are not less tenacious of their chimeras, than their rude\nprogenitors. These systems, so ruinous in their principles, have been\nvariously modified by the human mind, of which it is the essence, to\nlabour incessantly on unknown objects; it always, commences by attaching\nto these, a very first-rate importance, which it afterwards never dares\ncoolly to examine.\n\nSuch was the course of man's imagination, in the successive ideas which\nhe either formed to himself, or which he received from his fathers, upon\nthe divinity. The first theology of man was grounded on fear, modelled\nby ignorance: either afflicted or benefitted by the elements, he adored\nthese elements themselves; by a parity of reasoning, if reasoning it can\nbe called, he extended his reverence to every material, coarse object;\nhe afterwards rendered his homage to the agents he supposed presiding\nover these elements; to powerful genii; to inferior genii; to heroes;\nto men endowed with either great or striking qualities. Time, aided by\nreflection, with here and there a slight corruscation of truth, induced\nhim in some places to relinquish his original ideas; he believed\nhe simplified the thing by lessening the number of his gods, but he\nachieved nothing by this towards attaining to the truth; in recurring\nfrom cause to cause man finished by losing sight of every thing; in this\nobscurity, in this dark abyss, his mind still laboured, he formed\nnew chimeras, he made new gods, or rather he formed a very complex\nmachinery; still, as before, whenever he could not account for any\nphenomenon that struck his sight, he was unwilling to ascribe it to\nphysical causes; and the name of his Divinity, whatever that might\nhappen to be, was always brought in to supply his own ignorance of\nnatural causes.\n\nIf a faithful account was rendered of man's ideas upon the Divinity, he\nwould be obliged to acknowledge, that for the most part the word _Gods_\nhas been used to express the concealed, remote, unknown causes of the\neffects he witnessed; that he applies this term when the spring of\nnatural, the source of known causes ceases to be visible: as soon as he\nloses the thread of these causes, or as soon as his mind can no longer\nfollow the chain, he solves the difficulty, terminates his research, by\nascribing it to his gods; thus giving a vague definition to an unknown\ncause, at which either his idleness, or his limited knowledge, obliges\nhim to stop. When, therefore, he ascribes to his gods the production\nof some phenomenon, the novelty or the extent of which strikes him with\nwonder, but of which his ignorance precludes him from unravelling the\ntrue cause, or which he believes the natural powers with which he is\nacquainted are inadequate to bring forth; does he, in fact, do any thing\nmore than substitute for the darkness of his own mind, a sound to which\nhe has been accustomed to listen with reverential awe? Ignorance may be\nsaid to be the inheritance of the generality of men; these attribute to\ntheir gods not only those uncommon effects that burst upon their senses\nwith an astounding force, but also the most simple events, the causes\nof which are the most easy to be known to whoever shall be willing to\nmeditate upon them. In short, man has always respected those unknown\ncauses, those surprising effects which his ignorance prevented him from\nfathoming.\n\nBut does this afford us one single, correct idea of the _Divinity_? Can\nit be possible we are acting rationally, thus eternally to make him\nthe agent of our stupidity, of our sloth, of our want of information on\nnatural causes? Do we, in fact, pay any kind of adoration to this being,\nby thus bringing him forth on every trifling occasion, to solve the\ndifficulties ignorance throws in our way? Of whatever nature this great\ncause of causes may be, it is evident to the slightest reflection that\nhe has been sedulous to conceal himself from our view; that he has\nrendered it impossible for us to have the least acquaintance with\nhim, except through the medium of nature, which he has unquestionably\nrendered competent to every thing: this is the rich banquet spread\nbefore man; he is invited to partake, with a welcome he has no right to\ndispute; to enjoy therefore is to obey; to be happy is to render that\nworship which must make him most acceptable; _to be happy himself is\nto make others happy; to make others happy is to be virtuous; to be\nvirtuous he must revere truth: to know what truth is, he must examine\nwith caution, scrutinize with severity, every opinion he adopts:_ this\ngranted, is it at all consistent with the majesty of the Divinity, is it\nnot insulting to such a being to clothe him with our wayward passions;\nto ascribe to him designs similar to our narrow view of things; to\ngive him our filthy desires; to suppose he can be guided by our finite\nconceptions; to bring him on a level with frail humanity, by investing\nhim with our qualities, however much we may exaggerate them; to indulge\nan opinion that he can either act or think as we do; to imagine he can\nin any manner resemble such a feeble play-thing, as is the greatest, the\nmost distinguished man? No! it is to degrade him in the eye of reason;\nto violate every regard for truth; to set moral decency at defiance; to\nfall back into the depth of cimmerian darkness. Let man therefore sit\ndown cheerfully to the feast; let him contentedly partake of what he\nfinds; but let him not worry the Divinity with his useless prayers, with\nhis shallow-sighted requests, to solicit at his hands that which, if\ngranted, would in all probability be the most injurious for himself;\nthese supplications are, in fact, at once to say, that with our limited\nexperience, with our slender knowledge, we better understand what is\nsuitable to our condition, what is convenient to our welfare, than the\nmighty _Cause of all causes_ who has left us in the hands of nature:\nit is to be presumptuous in the highest degree of presumption; it is\nimpiously to endeavour to lift up a veil which it is evidently forbidden\nman to touch; that even his most strenuous efforts attempt in vain.\n\nIt remains, then, to inquire, if man can reasonably flatter himself with\nobtaining a perfect knowledge of the power of nature; of the properties\nof the beings she contains; of the effects which may result from their\nvarious combinations? Do we know why the magnet attracts iron? Are\nwe better acquainted with the cause of polar attraction? Are we in a\ncondition to explain the phenomena of light, electricity, elasticity?\nDo we understand the mechanism by which that modification of our brain,\nwhich we tall volition, puts our arm or our legs into motion? Can we\nrender to ourselves an account of the manner in which our eyes behold\nobjects, in which our ears receive sounds, in which our mind conceives\nideas? All we know upon these subjects is, that they are so. If then\nwe are incapable of accounting for the most ordinary phenomena, which\nnature daily exhibits to us, by what chain of reasoning do we refuse to\nher the power of producing other effects equally incomprehensible to\nus? Shall we be more instructed, when every time we behold an effect of\nwhich we are not in a capacity to develope the cause, we may idly say,\nthis effect is produced by the power, by the will of God? Undoubtedly it\nis the great _Cause of causes_ must have produced every thing; but is\nit not lessening the true dignity of the Divinity, to introduce him as\ninterfering in every operation of nature; nay, in every action of so\ninsignificant a creature as man? As a mere agent executing his own\neternal, immutable laws; when experience, when reflection, when the\nevidence of all we contemplate, warrants the idea, that this ineffable\nbeing has rendered nature competent to every effect, by giving her those\nirrevocable laws, that eternal, unchangeable system, according to which\nall the beings she contains must eternally act? Is it not more worthy\nthe exalted mind of the GREAT PARENT OF PARENTS, _ens entium_, more\nconsistent with truth, to suppose that his wisdom in giving these\nimmutable, these eternal laws to the macrocosm, foresaw every thing that\ncould possibly be requisite for the happiness of the beings contained in\nit; that therefore he left it to the invariable operation of a system,\nwhich never can produce any effect that is not the best possible that\ncircumstances however viewed will admit: that consequently the natural\nactivity of the human mind, which is itself the result of this eternal\naction, was purposely given to man, that he might endeavour to\nfathom, that he might strive to unravel, that he might seek out the\nconcatenation of these laws, in order to furnish remedies against the\nevils produced by ignorance. How many discoveries in the great science\nof natural philosophy has mankind progressively made, which the ignorant\nprejudices of our forefathers on their first announcement considered\nas impious, as displeasing to the Divinity, as heretical profanations,\nwhich could only be expiated by the sacrifice of the enquiring\nindividuals; to whose labour their posterity owes such an infinity of\ngratitude? Even in modern days we have seen a SOCRATES destroyed, a\nGALLILEO condemned, whilst multitudes of other benefactors to mankind\nhave been held in contempt by their uninformed cotemporaries, for those\nvery researches into nature which the present generation hold in the\nhighest veneration. _Whenever ignorant priests are permitted to guide\nthe opinions of nations, science can make but a very slender progress:_\nnatural discoveries will be always held inimical to the interest of\nbigotted superstitious men. It may, to the minds of infatuated mortals,\nto the shallow comprehension of prejudiced beings, appear very pious to\nreply on every occasion our gods do this, our gods do that; but to the\ncontemplative philosopher, to the man of reason, to the real adorers of\nthe great _Cause of causes_, it will never be convincing, that a sound,\na mere word, can attach the reason of things; can have more than a fixed\nsense; can suffice to explain problems. The word GOD is for the most\npart used to denote the impenetrable cause of those effects which\nastonish mankind; which man is not competent to explain. But is not this\nwilful idleness? Is it not inconsistent with our nature? Is it not being\ntruly impious, to sit down with those fine faculties we have received,\nand give the answer of a child to every thing we do not understand; or\nrather which our own sloth, or our own want of industry has prevented us\nfrom knowing? Ought we not rather to redouble our efforts to penetrate\nthe cause of those phenomena which strike our mind? Is not this, in\nfact, the duty we owe to the great, the universal Parent? When we have\ngiven this answer, what have we said? nothing but what every one knows.\nCould the great _Cause of causes_ make the whole, without also making\nits part? But does it of necessity follow that he executes every\ntrifling operation, when he has so noble an agent as his own nature,\nwhose laws he has rendered unchangeable, whose scale of operations can\nnever deviate from the eternal routine he has marked out for her and all\nthe beings she embraces? Whose secrets, if sought out, contain the true\nbalsam of life--the sovereign remedy for all the diseases of man.\n\nWhen we shall be ingenuous with ourselves, we shall be obliged to\nagree that it was uniformly the ignorance in which our ancestors were\ninvolved, their want of knowledge of natural causes, their unenlightened\nideas on the powers of nature, which gave birth to the gods they\nworshipped; that it is, again, the impossibility which the greater\npart of mankind find to withdraw, themselves out of this ignorance, the\ndifficulty they consequently find to form to themselves simple ideas\nof the formation of things, the labour that is required to discover the\ntrue sources of those events, which they either admire or fear, that\nmakes them believe these ideas are necessary to enable them to render an\naccount of those phenomena, to which their own sluggishness renders them\nincompetent to recur. Here, without doubt, is the reason they treat all\nthose as irrational who do not see the necessity of admitting an unknown\nagent, or some secret energy, which for want of being acquainted with\nNature, they have placed out of herself.\n\nThe phenomena of nature necessarily breed various sentiments in man:\nsome he thinks favorable to him, some prejudicial, while the whole\nis only what it can be. Some excite his love, his admiration, his\ngratitude; others fill him with trouble, cause aversion, drive him to\ndespair. According to the various sensations he experiences, he either\nloves or fears the causes to which he attributes the effects,\nwhich produce in him these different passions: these sentiments\nare commensurate with the effects he experiences; his admiration is\nenhanced, his fears are augmented, in the same ratio as the phenomena\nwhich strikes his senses are more or less extensive, more or less\nirresistible or interesting to him. Man necessarily makes himself the\ncentre of nature; indeed he can only judge of things, as he is himself\naffected by them; he can only love that which he thinks favorable to\nhis being; he hates, he fears every thing which causes him to suffer:\nin short, as we have seen in the former volume, he calls confusion every\nthing that deranges the economy of his machine; he believes all is in\norder, as soon as he experiences nothing but what is suitable to his\npeculiar mode of existence. By a necessary consequence of these ideas,\nman firmly believes that the entire of nature was made for him alone;\nthat it was only himself which she had in view in all her works; or\nrather that the powerful cause to which this nature was subordinate, had\nonly for object man and his convenience, in all the stupendous effects\nwhich are produced in the universe.\n\nIf there existed on this earth other thinking beings besides man,\nthey would fall exactly into similar prejudices with himself; it is\na sentiment founded upon that predilection which each individual\nnecessarily has for himself; a predilection that will subsist until\nreason, aided by experience, in pointing out the truth, shall have\nrectified his errors.\n\nThus, whenever man is contented, whenever every thing is in order with\nrespect to himself, he either admires or loves the causes to which he\nbelieves he is indebted for his welfare; when he becomes discontented\nwith his mode of existence, he either fears or hates the cause which\nhe supposes has produced these afflicting effects. But his welfare\nconfounds itself with his existence; it ceases to make itself felt when\nit has become habitual, when it has been of long continuance; he then\nthinks it is inherrent to his essence; he concludes from it that he is\nformed to be always happy; he finds it natural that every thing should\nconcur to the maintenance of his being. It is by no means the same when\nhe experiences a mode of existence that is displeasing to himself: the\nman who suffers is quite astonished at the change which his taken place\nin his machine; he judges it to be contrary to the entire of nature,\nbecause it is incommodious to his own particular nature; he, imagines\nthose events by which he is wounded, to be contrary to the order of\nthings; he believes that nature is deranged every time she does not\nprocure for him that mode of feeling which is suitable to his ideas: he\nconcludes from these suppositions that nature, or rather that the agent\nwho moves her; is irritated against him.\n\nIt is thus that man, almost insensible to good, feels evil in a very\nlively manner; the first he believes natural, the other he thinks\nopposed to nature. He is either ignorant, or forgets, that he\nconstitutes part of a whole, formed by the assemblage of substances, of\nwhich some are analogous, others heterogeneous; that the various beings\nof which nature is composed, are endowed with a variety of properties,\nby virtue of which they act diversely on the bodies who find themselves\nwithin the sphere of their action; that some have an aptitude to\nattraction, whilst it is of the essence of others to repel; that even\nthose bodies that attract at one distance, repel at another; that\nthe peculiar attractions and repulsions of the particles of bodies\nperpetually oppose, invariably counteract the general ones of the masses\nof matter: he does not perceive that these beings, as destitute of\ngoodness, as devoid of malice, act only according to their respective\nessences; follow the laws their properties impose upon them; without\nbeing in capacity to act otherwise than they do. It is, therefore, for\nwant of being acquainted with these things, that he looks upon the great\nAuthor of nature, the great _Cause of causes_, as the immediate cause of\nthose evils to which he is submitted; that he judges erroneously when he\nimagines that the Divinity is exasperated against him.\n\nThe fact is, man believes that his welfare is a debt due to him from\nnature; that when he suffers evil she does him an injustice; fully\npersuaded that this nature was made solely for himself, he cannot\nconceive she would make him, who is her lord paramount, suffer, if she\nwas not moved thereto by a power who is inimical to his happiness;\nwho has reasons with which he is unacquainted for afflicting, who has\nmotives which he wishes to discover, for punishing him. From hence it\nwill be obvious, that evil, much more than good, is the true motive of\nthose researches which man has made concerning the Divinity--of those\nideas which he has formed to himself--of the conduct he has held towards\nhim. The admiration of the works of nature, or the acknowledgement of\nits goodness, seem never alone to have determined the human species to\nrecur painfully by thought to the source of these things; familiarized\nat once with all those effects which are favourable to his existence, he\ndoes not by any means give himself the same trouble to seek the causes,\nthat he does to discover those which disquiet him, or by which he is\nafflicted. Thus, in reflecting upon the Divinity, it was generally\nupon the cause of his evils that man meditated; his meditations were\nfruitless, because the evil he experiences, as well as the good he\npartakes, are equally necessary effects of natural causes, to which\nhis mind ought rather to have bent its force, than to have invented\nfictitious causes of which he never could form to himself any but\nfalse ideas; seeing that he always borrowed them, from his own peculiar\nmariner of existing, acting, and feeling. Obstinately refusing to see\nany thing, but himself, he never became acquainted with that universal\nnature of which he constitutes such a very feeble part.\n\nThe slightest reflection, however, would have been sufficient to\nundeceive him on these erroneous ideas. Everything tends to prove that\ngood and evil are modes of existence that depend upon causes by which a\nman is moved; that a sensible being is obliged to experience them. In\na nature composed of a multitude of beings infinitely varied, the\nshock occasioned by the collision of discordant matter must necessarily\ndisturb the order, derange the mode of existence of those beings who\nhave no analogy with them: these act in every thing they do after\ncertain laws, which are in themselves immutable; the good or evil,\ntherefore, which man experiences, are necessary consequences of the\nqualities inherent to the beings, within whose sphere of action he is\nfound. Our birth, which we call a benefit, is an effect as necessary as\nour death, which we contemplate as an injustice of fate: it is of the\nnature of all analogous beings to unite themselves to form a whole: it\nis of the nature of all compound beings to be destroyed, or to dissolve\nthemselves; some maintain their union for a longer period than others;\nsome disperse very quickly, as the ephemeron; some endure for ages, as\nthe planets; every being in dissolving itself gives birth to new beings;\nthese are destroyed in their turn; to execute the eternal, the immutable\nlaws of a nature that only exists by the continual changes that all\nits parts undergo. Thus nature cannot be accused of malice, since every\nthing that takes place in it is necessary--is produced by an invariable\nsystem, to which every other being, as well as herself, is eternally\nsubjected. The same igneous matter that in man is the principle of\nlife, frequently becomes the principle of his destruction, either by the\nconflagration of a city, the explosion of a volcano, or his mad passion\nfor war. The aqueous fluid that circulates through his machine, so\nessentially necessary to his actual existence, frequently becomes too\nabundant, and terminates him by suffocation; is the cause of those\ninundations which sometimes swallow up both the earth and its\ninhabitants. The air, without which he is not able to respire, is the\ncause of those hurricanes, of those tempests, which frequently render\nuseless the labour of mortals. These elements are obliged to burst their\nbonds, when they are combined in a certain manner; their necessary but\nfatal consequences are those ravages, those contagions, those famines,\nthose diseases, those various scourges, against which man, with\nstreaming eyes and violent emotions, vainly implores the aid of those\npowers who are deaf to his cries: his prayers are never granted; but\nthe same necessity which afflicted him, the same immutable laws which\noverwhelmed him with trouble, replaces things in the order he finds\nsuitable to his species: a relative order of things which was, is, and\nalways will be the only standard of his judgment.\n\nMan, however, made no such simple reflections: he either did not or\nwould not perceive that every thing in nature acted by invariable\nlaws; he continued stedfast in contemplating the good of which he was\npartaker, as a favor; in considering the evil he experienced, as a sign\nof anger in this nature, which he supposed to be animated by the same\npassions as himself or at least that it was governed by secret agents,\nwho acted after his own manner, who obliged it to execute their will,\nthat was sometimes favourable, sometimes inimical to the human species.\nIt was to these supposed agents, with whom in the sunshine of his\nprosperity he was but little occupied, that in the bosom of his calamity\nhe addressed his prayers; he thanked them, however, for their favours,\nfearing lest their ingratitude might farther provoke their fury: thus\nwhen assailed by disaster, when afflicted with disease, he invoked them\nwith fervor: he required them to change in his favor the mode of acting\nwhich was the very essence of beings; he was willing that to make the\nslightest evil he experienced cease, that the eternal chain of things\nmight be broken; and the unerring, undeviating course of nature might he\narrested.\n\nIt was upon such ridiculous pretensions, that were founded those\nsupplications, those fervent prayers, which mortals, almost always\ndiscontented with their fate, never in accord in their respective\ndesires, addressed to their gods. They were unceasingly upon their knees\nbefore the altars, were ever prostrate before the power of the beings,\nwhom they judged had the right of commanding nature; who they supposed\nto have sufficient energy to divert her course; who they considered to\npossess the means to make her subservient to their particular views;\nthus each hoped by presents, by humiliation, to induce them to oblige\nthis nature, to satisfy the discordant desires of their race. The sick\nman, expiring in his bed, asks that the humours accumulated in his body\nshould in an instant lose those properties which renders them injurious\nto his existence; that by an act of their puissance, his gods should\nrenew or recreate the springs of a machine worn out by infirmities. The\ncultivator of a low swampy country, makes complaint of the abundance of\nrain with which his fields are inundated; whilst the inhabitant of\nthe hill, raises his thanks for the favors he receives, solicits a\ncontinuance of that which causes the despair of his neighbour. In this,\neach is willing to have a god for himself, and asks according to his\nmomentary caprices, to his fluctuating wants, that the invariable\nessence of things, should be continually changed in his favour.\n\nFrom this it must be obvious, that man every moment asks a _miracle_ to\nbe wrought in his support. It is not, therefore, at all surprising that\nhe displayed such ready credulity, that he adopted with such facility\nthe relation of the marvellous deeds which were universally announced to\nhim as the acts of the power, or the effects of the benevolence, of\nthe various gods which presided over the nations of the earth: these\nwonderful tales, which were offered to his acceptance, as the most\nindubitable proofs of the empire of these gods over nature, which man\nalways found deaf to his entreaties, were readily accredited by him; in\nthe expectation, that if he could gain them over to his interest, this\nnature, which he found so sullen, so little disposed to lend herself to\nhis views, would then be controuled in his own favor.\n\nBy a necessary consequence of these ideas, nature was despoiled of all\npower; she was contemplated only as a passive instrument, who acted at\nthe will, under the influence of the numerous, all-powerful agents to\nwhom the various superstitions had rendered her subordinate. It was thus\nfor want of contemplating nature under her true point of view, that man\nhas mistaken her entirely, that he believed her incapable of producing\nany thing by herself; that he ascribed the honor of all those\nproductions, whether advantageous or disadvantageous to the human\nspecies, to fictitious powers, whom he always clothed with his own\npeculiar dispositions, only he aggrandized their force. In short, it\nwas upon the ruins of nature, that man erected the imaginary colossus of\nsuperstition, that he reared the _altars of a Jupiter, the temples of an\nApollo_.\n\nIf the ignorance of nature gave birth to such a variety of gods, the\nknowledge of this nature is calculated to destroy them. As soon as man\nbecomes enlightened, his powers augment, his resources increase in a\nratio with his knowledge; the sciences, the protecting arts, industrious\napplication, furnish him assistance; experience encourages his progress,\ntruth procures for him the means of resisting the efforts of many\ncauses, which cease to alarm him as soon as he obtains a correct\nknowledge of them. In a word, his terrors dissipate in proportion as his\nmind becomes enlightened, because his trepidation is ever commensurate\nwith his ignorance, and furnishes this great lesson, that _man,\ninstructed by truth, ceases to be superstitious_.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. II.\n\n_Of Mythology, and Theology_.\n\n\nThe elements of nature were, as we have shewn, the first divinities\nof man; he has generally commenced with adoring material beings; each\nindividual, as we have already said, as may be still seen in savage\nnations, made to himself a particular god, of some physical object,\nwhich he supposed to be the cause of those events, in which he was\nhimself interested; he never wandered to seek out of visible nature,\nthe source either of what happened to himself, or of those phenomena to\nwhich he was a witness. As he every where saw only material effects, he\nattributed them to causes of the same genus; incapable in his infancy\nof those profound reveries, of those subtle speculations, which are\nthe fruit of time, the result of leisure, he did not imagine any cause\ndistinguished from the objects that met his sight, nor of any essence\ntotally different from every thing he beheld.\n\nThe observation of nature was the first study of those who had leisure\nto meditate: they could not avoid being struck with the phenomena of the\nvisible world. The rising and setting of the sun, the periodical return\nof the seasons, the variations of the atmosphere, the fertility and\nsterility of the earth, the advantages of irrigation, the damage caused\nby floods, the useful effects of fire, the terrible consequences\nof conflagration, were proper and suitable objects to occupy their\nthoughts. It was natural for them to believe that those beings they saw\nmove of themselves, acted by their own peculiar energies; according as\ntheir influence over the inhabitants of the earth was either favorable\nor otherwise, they concluded them to have either the power to injure\nthem, or the disposition to confer benefits. Those who first acquired\nthe knowledge of gaining an ascendancy over man, then savage, wandering,\nunpolished, or dispersed in woods, with but little attachment to the\nsoil, of which he had not yet learned to reap the advantage, were always\nmore practised observers--individuals more instructed in the ways of\nnature, than the people, or rather the scattered hordes, whom they found\nignorant and destitute of experience: their superior knowledge placed\nthem in a capacity to render these services--to discover to them useful\ninventions, which attracted the confidence of the unhappy beings to\nwhom they came to offer an assisting hand; savages who were naked,\nhalf famished, exposed to the injuries of the weather, obnoxious to the\nattacks of ferocious beasts, dispersed in caverns, scattered in forests,\noccupied with hunting, painfully labouring to procure themselves a very\nprecarious subsistence, had not sufficient leisure to make discoveries\ncalculated to facilitate their labour, or to render it less incessant.\nThese discoveries are generally the fruit of society: isolated beings,\ndetached families, hardly ever make any discoveries--scarcely ever think\nof making any. The savage is a being who lives in a perpetual state of\ninfancy, who never reaches maturity unless some one comes to draw him\nout of his misery. At first repulsive, unsociable, intractable, he by\ndegrees familiarizes himself with those who render him service; once\ngained by their kindness, he readily lends them his confidence; in the\nend he goes the length of sacrificing to them his liberty.\n\nIt was commonly from the bosom of civilized nations that have issued\nthose personages who have carried sociability, agriculture, art, laws,\ngods, superstition, forms of worship, to those families or hordes as yet\nscattered; who united them either to the body of some other nations,\nor formed them into new nations, of which they themselves became the\nleaders, sometimes the king, frequently the high priest, and often their\ngod. These softened their manners--gathered them together--taught\nthem to reap the advantages of their own powers--to render each other\nreciprocal assistance--to satisfy their wants with greater facility. In\nthus rendering their existence more comfortable, thus augmenting\ntheir happiness, they attracted their love; obtained their veneration,\nacquired the right of prescribing opinions to them, made them adopt\nsuch as they had either invented themselves, or else drawn up in the\ncivilized countries from whence they came. History points out to us the\nmost famous legislators as men, who, enriched with useful knowledge they\nhad gleaned in the bosom of polished nations, carried to savages without\nindustry, needing assistance, those arts, of which, until then, these\nrude people were ignorant: such were the Bacchus's, the Orpheus's, the\nTriptolemus's, the Numa's, the Zamolixis's; in short, all those who\nfirst gave to nations their gods--their worship--the rudiments of\nagriculture, of science, of superstition, of jurisprudence, of religion,\n&c.\n\nIt will perhaps be enquired, If those nations which at the present day\nwe see assembled, were all originally dispersed? We reply, that this\ndispersion may have been produced at various times, by those terrible\nrevolutions, of which it has before been remarked our globe has more\nthan once been the theatre; in times so remote, that history has not\nbeen able to transmit us the detail. Perhaps the approach of more than\none comet may have produced on our earth several universal ravages,\nwhich have at each time annihilated the greater portion of the human\nspecies.\n\nThese hypotheses will unquestionably appear bold to those who have not\nsufficiently meditated on nature, but to the philosophic enquirer they\nare by no means inconsistent. There may not only have been one general\ndeluge, but even a great number since the existence of our planet; this\nglobe itself may have been a new production in nature; it may not always\nhave occupied the place it does at present. Whatever idea may be adopted\non this subject, if it is very certain that, independent of those\nexterior causes, which are competent to totally change its face, as the\nimpulse of a comet may do, this globe contains within itself, a cause\nadequate to alter it entirely, since, besides the diurnal and sensible\nmotion of the earth, it has one extremely slow, almost imperceptible, by\nwhich every thing must eventually be changed in it: this is the motion\nfrom whence depends the _precession_ of the _equinoctial points_,\nobserved by _Hipparchus_ and other mathematicians, now well understood\nby astronomers; by this motion, the earth must at the end of several\nthousand years change totally: this motion will at length cause\nthe ocean to occupy that space which at present forms the lands or\ncontinents. From this it will be obvious that our globe, as well as all\nthe beings in nature, has a continual disposition to change. This motion\nwas known to the ancients, and was what gave rise to what they called\ntheir great year, which the Egyptians fixed at thirty-six thousand five\nhundred and twenty-five years: the Sabines at thirty-six thousand four\nhundred and twenty-five, whilst others have extended it to one hundred\nthousand, some even to seven hundred and fifty-three thousand years.\nAgain, to those general revolutions which our planet has at different\ntimes experienced, way he added those that have been partial, such as\ninundations of the sea, earthquakes, subterraneous conflagrations, which\nhave sometimes had the effect of dispersing particular nations, and\nto make them forget all those sciences with which they were, before\nacquainted. It is also probable that the first volcanic fires, having\nhad no previous vent, were more central, and greater in quantity, before\nthey burst the crust of earth; as the sea washed the whole, it must\nhave rapidly sunk down into every opening, where, falling on the boiling\nlava, it was instantly expanded into steam, producing irresistible\nexplosion: whence it is reasonable to conclude, that the primaeval\nearthquakes wore more widely extended, and of much greater force, than\nthose which occur in our days. Other vapours may be produced by intense\nheat, possessing a much greater elasticity, from substances that\nevaporate, such as mercury, diamonds, &c.; the expansive force of these\nvapours would be much greater than the steam of water, even at red hot\nheat consequently they, way have had sufficient energy to raise islands,\ncontinents, or even to have detached the moon from the earth; if the\nmoon, as has been supposed by some philosophers, was thrown out of the\ngreat cavity which now contains the South Sea; the immense quantity of\nwater flowing in from the original ocean, and which then covered the\nearth, would much contribute to leave the continents and islands, which\nmight be raised at the same time, above the surface of the water. In\nlater days we have accounts of huge stones falling, from the firmament,\nwhich may have been thrown by explosion from some distant earthquake,\nwithout having been impelled with a force sufficient to cause them to\ncirculate round the earth, and thus produce numerous small moons or\nsatellites.\n\nThose who were able to escape from the ruin of the world, filled\nwith consternation, plunged in misery, were but little conditioned to\npreserve to their posterity a knowledge, effaced by those misfortunes,\nof which they had been both the victims and the witnesses: overwhelmed\nwith dismay, trembling with fear, they were not able to hand down the\nhistory of their frightful adventures, except by obscure traditions;\nmuch less to transmit to us the opinions, the systems, the arts, the\nsciences, anterior to these petrifying revolutions of our sphere. There\nhave been perhaps men upon the earth from all eternity; but at different\nperiods they may have been nearly annihilated, together with their\nmonuments, their sciences, and their arts; those who outlived these\nperiodical revolutions, each time formed a new race of men, who by dint\nof time, labour, and experience, have by degrees withdrawn from\noblivion the inventions of the primitive races. It is, perhaps, to these\nperiodical revolutions of the human species, that is to be ascribed the\nprofound ignorance in which we see man yet plunged, upon those objects\nthat are the most interesting to him. This is, perhaps, the true source\nof the imperfection of his knowledge--of the vices of his political\ninstitutions--of the defect in his religion--of the growth of\nsuperstition, over which terror has always presided; here, in all\nprobability, is the cause of that puerile inexperience, of those jejune\nprejudices, which almost every where keep man in a state of infancy, and\nwhich render him so little capable of either listening to reason or\nof consulting truth. To judge by the slowness of his progress, by\nthe feebleness of his advance, in a number of respects, we should be\ninclined to say, the human race has either just quitted its cradle, or\nthat he was never destined to attain the age of virility--to corroborate\nhis reason.\n\nHowever it may be with these conjectures, whether the human race may\nalways have existed upon the earth, whether it may have been a recent\nproduction of nature, whether the larger animals we now behold were\noriginally derived from the smallest microscopic ones, who have\nincreased in bulk with the progression of time, or whether, as the\nEgyptian philosophers thought, mankind were originally hermaphrodites,\nwho like the _aphis_ produced the sexual distinction after some\ngenerations, which was also the opinion of Plato, and seems to have\nbeen that of Moses, who was educated amongst these Egyptians, as may be\ngathered from the 27th and 28th verses of the first chapter of GENESIS:\n\"So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he\nhim; male and female created he them--And GOD blessed them, and GOD\nsaid unto them, be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and\nsubdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl\nof the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth:\" it\nis not therefore presuming too much to suppose, as the Egyptians were\na nation very fond of explaining their opinions by hieroglyphics,\nthat that part which describes Eve as taken out of Adam's rib, was an\nhieroglyphic emblem: showing that mankind was in the primitive state of\nboth sexes, united, who was afterwards divided into males and females.\nHowever, I say, this may be, it is extremely easy to recur to the origin\nof many existing nations: we shall find them always in the savage state;\nthat is, to say, dispersed; composed of families detached from each\nother; of wandering, hordes; these were collected together, approximated\nat the voice of some missionary or legislator, from whom they\nreceived great benefits, who gave them gods, opinions, and laws. These\npersonages, of whom the people newly congregated readily acknowledged\nthe superiority, fixed the national gods, leaving to each individual,\nthose which he had formed to himself, according to his own peculiar\nideas, or else substituting others brought from those regions, from\nwhence they themselves had emigrated.\n\nThe better to imprint their lessons on the minds of their new subjects,\nthese men became the guides, the priests, the sovereigns, the masters\nof these infant societies; they formed discourses by which they spoke to\nthe imagination of their willing auditors. POETRY seem best adapted to\nstrike the mind of these rude people, to engrave on their memory those\nideas with which they were willing to imbue them: its images, its\nfictions, its numbers, its rhyme its harmony, all conspired to please\ntheir fancy, to render permanent the impressions it made: thus, the\nentire of nature, as well as all its parts, was personified, by its\nbeautiful allegories: at its soothing voice, trees, stones, rocks,\nearth, air, fire, water, by imagination took intelligence, held\nconversation with man, and with themselves; the elements were deified by\nits songs, every thing was figuratively detailed in harmonious lays.\nThe sky, which according to the then philosophy, was an arched concave,\nspreading over the earth, which was supposed to be a level plain; (for\nthe doctrine of _antipodes_ is of rather modern date) was itself made\na god; was considered a more suitable residence, as making a greater\ndistinction for these imaginary deities than the earth on which man\nhimself resided. Thus the firmament was filled with deities.\n\nTime, under the name of Saturn, was pictured as the son of heaven;\nor Coelus by earth, called Terra, or Thea; he was represented as\nan inexorable divinity--naturally artful, who devoured his own\nchildren--who revenged the anger of his mother upon his father; for\nwhich purpose she armed him with a scythe, formed of metals drawn from\nher own bowels, with which he struck Coelus, in the act of uniting\nhimself to Thea, and so mutilated him, that he was ever after\nincapacitated to increase the number of his children: he was said to\nhave divided the throne with Janus king of Italy, his reign seems to\nhave been so mild, so beneficent, that it was called the _golden\nage_; human victims were sacrificed on his altars, until abolished by\nHercules, who substituted small images of clay. Festivals in honor of\nthis god, called Saturnalia, were instituted long antecedent to the\nfoundation of Rome they were celebrated about the middle of December,\neither on the 16th, 17th, or 18th; they lasted in latter times\nseveral days, originally but one. Universal liberty prevailed at the\ncelebration, slaves were permitted to ridicule their masters--to speak\nfreely on every subject--no criminals were executed--war never declared;\nthe priests made their human offerings with their heads uncovered; a\ncircumstance peculiar to the Saturnalia, not adopted at other festivals.\n\nThe igneous matter, the etherial electric fluid, that invisible fire\nwhich vivifies nature, that penetrates all beings, that fertilizes the\nearth, which is the great principle of motion, the source of heat, was\ndeified under the name of Jupiter: his combination with every being in\nnature was expressed by his metamorphoses--by the frequent adulteries\nimputed to him. He was armed with thunder, to indicate he produced\nmeteors, to typify the electric fluid that is called lightning. He\nmarried the winds, which were designated under the name of Juno,\ntherefore called the Goddess of the Winds, their nuptials were\ncelebrated with great solemnity; all the gods, the entire brute\ncreation, the whole of mankind attended, except one young woman named\nChelone, who laughed at the ceremonies, for which impiety she was\nchanged by Mercury into a tortoise, and condemned to perpetual silence.\nHe was the most powerful of all the gods, and considered as the king and\nfather both of gods and men: his worship was very extended, performed\nwith greater solemnity, than that of any other god. Upon his altars\nsmoked goats, sheep, and white bulls, in which he is said to have\nparticularly delighted; the oak was rendered sacred to him, because\nhe taught mankind to live upon acorns; he had many oracles where his\nprecepts were delivered, the most celebrated of these were at Dodona and\nAmmon in Lybia; he was supposed to be invisible to the inhabitants of\nthe earth; the Lacedemonians erected his statue with four heads, thereby\nindicating, that he listened readily to the solicitations of every\nquarter of the earth. Minerva is represented as having no mother, but to\nhave come completely armed from his brains, when his head was opened by\nVulcan; by which it is meant to infer that wisdom is the result of\nthis ethereal fluid. Thus, following the same fictions, the sun, that\nbeneficent star which has such a marked influence over the earth, became\nan Osiris, a Belus, a Mithras, an Adonis, an Apollo. Nature, rendered\nsorrowful by his periodical absence, was an Isis, an Astarte, a Venus,\na Cybele. Astarte had a magnificent temple at Hieropolis served by three\nhundred priests, who were always employed in offering sacrifices. The\npriests of Cybele, called Corybantes, also Galli, were not admitted to\ntheir sacred functions without previous mutilation. In the celebration\nof their festivals these priests used all kinds of indecent expressions,\nbeat drums, cymbals, and behaved just like madmen: his worship extended\nall over Phrygia, and was established in Greece under the name of\n_Eleusinian mysteries_. In short, every thing was personified: the sea\nwas under the empire of Neptune; fire was adored by the Egyptians under\nthe name of Serapis; by the Persians, under that of Ormus or Oromaze;\nand by the Romans, under that of Vesta and Vulcan.\n\nSuch was the origin of mythology: it may be said to be the daughter of\nnatural philosophy, embellished by poetry; only destined to describe\nnature and its parts. If antiquity is consulted, it will be perceived\nwithout much trouble, that these famous sages, those legislators, those\npriests, those conquerors, who were the instructors of infant nations,\nthemselves adored active nature, or the great whole considered\nrelatively to its different operations or qualities; that this was what\nthey caused the ignorant savages whom they had gathered together to\nadore. It was the great whole they deified; it was its various parts\nwhich they made their inferior gods; it was from the necessity of her\nlaws they made fate. The Greeks called it Nature, a divinity who had\na thousand names. Varro says, \"I believe that God is the soul of the\nuniverse, and that the universe is God.\" Cicero says \"that in the\nmysteries of Samothracia, of Lemnos, of Eleusis, it was nature much more\nthan the gods, they explained to the initiated.\" Pliny says, \"we must\nbelieve that the world, or that which is contained under the vast\nextent of the heavens, is the Divinity; even eternal, infinite, without\nbeginning or end.\" It was these different modes of considering nature\nthat gave birth to Polytheism, to idolatry. Allegory masqued its mode\nof action: it was at length parts of this great whole, that idolatry\nrepresented by statues and symbols.\n\nTo complete the proofs of what has been said; to shew distinctly that it\nwas the great whole, the universe, the nature of things, which was the\nreal object of the worship of Pagan antiquity, hardly any thing can be\nmore decisive than the beginning of the hymn of Orpheus addressed to the\ngod Pan.\n\n\"O Pan! I invoke thee, O powerful god! O universal nature! the heavens,\nthe sea, the earth, who nourish all, and the eternal fire, because these\nare thy members, O all powerful Pan,\" &c. Nothing can be more suitable\nto confirm these ideas, than the ingenious explanation which is given\nof the fable of Pan, as well as of the figure under which he is\nrepresented. It is said, \"Pan, according to the signification of his\nname, is the emblem by which the ancients have designated the great\nassemblage of things or beings: he represents the universe; and, in the\nmind of the wisest philosophers of antiquity, he passed for the greatest\nand most ancient of the gods. The features under which he is delineated\nform the portrait of nature, and of the savage state in which she was\nfound in the beginning. The spotted skin of the leopard, which\nserves him for a mantle, imagined the heavens filled with stars and\nconstellations. His person was compounded of parts, some of which were\nsuitable to a reasonable animal, that is to say, to man; and others to\nthe animal destitute of reason, such as the goat. It is thus,\" says\nhe, \"that the universe is composed of an intelligence that governs the\nwhole, and of the prolific, fruitful elements of fire, water, earth,\nair. Pan, loved to drink and to follow the nymphs; this announces the\noccasion nature has for humidity in all her productions, and that this\ngod, like nature, is strongly inclined to propagation. According to the\nEgyptians, and the most ancient Grecian philosophers, Pan had neither\nfather nor mother; he came out of Demogorgon at the same moment with\nthe Destinies, his fatal sisters; a fine method of expressing that the\nuniverse was the work of an unknown power, and that it was formed after\nthe invariable relations, the eternal laws of necessity; but his most\nsignificant symbol, that most suitable to express the harmony of the\nuniverse, is his mysterious pipe, composed of seven unequal tubes, but\ncalculated to produce the nicest, the most perfect concord. The orbs\nwhich compose the seven planets of our solar system, are of different\ndiameters; being bodies of unequal mass, they describe their revolutions\nround the sun in various periods; nevertheless it is from the order of\ntheir motion that results the harmony of the spheres,\" &c.\n\nHere then is the great macrocosm, the mighty whole, the assemblage of\nthings adored and deified by the philosophers of antiquity; whilst the\nuninformed stopped at the emblem under which this nature was depicted;\nat the symbols under which its various parts, its numerous functions\nwere personified; his narrow mind, his barbarous ignorance, never\npermitted him to mount higher; they alone were deemed worthy of being,\ninitiated into the mysteries, who knew the realities masqued under these\nemblems. Indeed, it is not to be doubted for an instant, that the wisest\namong the Pagans adored nature; which ethnic theology designated under\na great variety of nomenclature, under an immense number of different\nemblems. Apuleius, although a decided Platonist, accustomed to the\nmysterious, unintelligible notions of his master, calls \"Nature the\nparent of all; the mother of the elements, the first offspring of the\nworld;\" again, \"the mother of the stars, the parent of the seasons, and\nthe governess of the whole world.\"--She was worshipped by many under the\nappellation of the _mother of the gods_. Indeed, the first institutors\nof nations, and their immediate successors in authority, only spoke to\nthe people by fables, allegories, enigmas, of which they reserved\nto themselves the right of giving an explanation: this, in fact,\nconstituted the mysteries of the various worship paid to the Pagan\ndivinities. This mysterious tone they considered necessary, whether it\nwas to mask their own ignorance, or whether it was to preserve their\npower over the uninformed, who for the most part only respect that which\nis above their comprehension. Their explications were generally dictated\neither by interest, or by a delirious imagination, frequently by\nimposture; thus from age to age, they did no more than render nature and\nits parts, which they had originally depicted, more unknown, until they\ncompletely lost sight of the primitive ideas; these were replaced by a\nmultitude of fictitious personages, under whose features this nature had\nprimarily been represented to them. The people, either unaccustomed to\nthink, or deeply steeped in ignorance, adored these personages, without\npenetrating into the true sense of the emblematical fables recounted to\nthem. These ideal beings, with material figures, in whom they believed\nthere resided a mysterious virtue, a divine power, were the objects of\ntheir worship, the source of their fears, the fountain of their\nhopes. The wonderful, the incredible actions ascribed to these fancied\ndivinities, were an inexhaustible fund of admiration, which gave\nperpetual play to the fancy; which delighted not only the people of\nthose days, but even the children of latter ages. Thus were transmitted\nfrom age to age, those marvellous accounts, which, although necessary to\nthe existence of the power usurped by the ministers of these gods, did,\nin fact, nothing more than confirm the blindness of the ignorant: these\nnever supposed that it was nature, its various operations, its numerous\ncomponent parts--that it was the passions of man and his diverse\nfaculties that lay buried under an heap of allegories; they did not\nperceive that the passions and faculties of human nature were used as\nemblems, because man was ignorant of the true cause of the phenomena\nhe beheld. As strong passions seemed to hurry man along, in despite\nof himself, they either attributed these passions to a god, or deified\nthem; frequently they did both: it was thus love became a deity; that\neloquence, poetry, industry, were transformed into gods, under the names\nof Hermes, Mercury, Apollo; the stings of conscience were called the\nFuries: the people, bowed down in stupid ignorance, had no eyes but\nfor these emblematical persons, under which nature was masked: they\nattributed to their influence the good, to their displeasure the evil,\nwhich they experienced: they entered into every kind of folly, into\nthe most delirious acts of madness, to render them propitious to their\nviews; thus, for want of being acquainted with the reality of things,\ntheir worship frequently degenerated into the most cruel extravagance,\ninto the most ridiculous folly.\n\nThus it is obvious, that every thing proves nature and its various\nparts to have every where been the first divinities of man.\nNatural philosophers studied these deities, either superficially or\nprofoundly,--explained some of their properties, detailed some of their\nmodes of action. Poets painted them to the imagination of mortals,\neither in the most fascinating colours, or under the most\nhideous deformities; embodied them--furnished them with reasoning\nfaculties--recounted their exploits--recorded their will. The statuary\nexecuted sometimes with the most enrapturing art, the ideas of the\npoets,--gave substance to their shadows--form to their airy nothings.\nThe priest decorated these united works with a thousand marvellous\nqualities--with the most terrible passions--with the most inconceivable\nattributes; gave them, \"a local habitation and a name.\" The people\nadored them; prostrated themselves before these gods, who were neither\nsusceptible of love or hatred, goodness, or malice; they became\npersecuting, malevolent, cruel, unjust, in order to render themselves\nacceptable to powers generally described to them under the most odious\nfeatures.\n\nBy dint of reasoning upon these emblems, by meditating upon nature,\nthus decorated, or rather disfigured, subsequent speculators no longer\nrecollected the source from whence their predecessors had drawn their\ngods, nor the fantastic ornaments with which they had embellished\nthem. Natural philosophers and poets were transformed by leisure into\nmetaphysicians and theologians; tired with contemplating what they could\nhave understood, they believed they had made an important discovery\nby subtilly distinguishing nature from herself--from her own peculiar\nenergies--from her faculty of action. By degrees they made an\nincomprehensible being of this energy, which as before they personified,\nthis they called the mover of nature, divided it into two, one congenial\nto man's happiness, the other inimical to his welfare; these they\ndeified in the same manner as they had before done nature with her\nvarious parts. These abstract, metaphysical beings, became the\nsole object of their thoughts; were the subject of their continual\ncontemplation; they looked upon them as realities of the highest\nimportance: thus nature quite disappeared; she was despoiled of her\nrights; she was considered as nothing more than an unwieldy mass,\ndestitute of power; devoid of energy, as an heap of ignoble matter\npurely passive: who, incapable of acting by herself, was not competent\nto any of the operations they beheld, without the direct, the immediate\nagency of the moving powers they had associated with her: which they had\nmade the fulcrum necessary to the action of the lever. They either did\nnot or would not perceive, that the _great Cause of causes, ens entium,\nParent of parents_, had, in unravelling chaotic matter, with a wisdom\nfor which man can never be sufficiently grateful, with a sagacity\nwhich he can never sufficiently admire, foreseen every thing that could\ncontribute not only to his own individual happiness, but also to that of\nall the beings in nature; that he had given this nature immutable laws,\naccording to which she is for ever regulated; after which she is obliged\ninvariably to act; that he has described for her an eternal course, from\nwhich it is not permitted her to deviate, even for an instant; that she\nis therefore, rendered competent to the production of every phenomena,\nnot only that he beholds, but of an infinity that he has never yet\ncontemplated; that she needs not any exterior energy for this purpose,\nhaving received her powers from a hand far superior to any the feeble\nweak imagination of man is able to form; that when this nature appears\nto afflict him, it is only from the contraction of his own views, from\nthe narrowness of his own ideas, that he judges; that, in fact, what he\nconsiders the evils of nature, are the greatest possible benefits he\ncan receive, if he was but in a condition to be acquainted with previous\ncauses, with subsequent effects. That the evils resulting to him from\nhis own vices, have equally their remedies in this nature, which it\nis his duty to study; which if he does he will find, that the same\nomnipotent goodness, who gave her irrefragable laws, also planted in her\nbosom, balsams for all his maladies, whether physical or moral: but that\nit is not given him to know what this great, this universal cause\nis, for purposes of which he ought not to dispute the wisdom, when he\ncontemplates the mighty wonders that surround him.\n\nThus man ever preferred an unknown power, to that of which he was\nenabled to have some knowledge, if he had only deigned to consult\nhis experience; but he presently ceases to respect that which he\nunderstands; to estimate those objects which are familiar to him: he\nfigures to himself something marvellous in every thing he does not\ncomprehend; his mind, above all, labours to seize upon that which\nappears to escape his consideration; in default of experience, he no\nlonger consults any thing, but his imagination, which feeds him\nwith chimeras. In consequence, those speculators who have subtilly\ndistinguished nature from her own powers, have successively laboured\nto clothe the powers thus separated with, a thousand incomprehensible\nqualities: as they did not see this power, which is only a mode, they\nmade it a spirit--an intelligence--an incorporeal being; that is to say,\nof a substance totally different from every thing of which we have a\nknowledge. They never perceived that all their inventions, that all the\nwords which they imagined, only served to mask their real ignorance;\nthat all their pretended science was limited to saying, in what manner\nnature acted, by a thousand subterfuges which they themselves found\nit impossible to comprehend. Man always deceives himself for want of\nstudying nature; he leads himself astray, every time he is disposed to\ngo out of it; he is always quickly necessitated to return; he is even\nin error when he substitutes words which he does not himself understand,\nfor things which he would much better comprehend if he was willing to\nlook at them without prejudice.\n\nCan a theologian ingenuously believe himself more enlightened, for\nhaving substituted the vague words spirit, incorporeal substance, &c. to\nthe more intelligible terms nature, matter, mobility, necessity? However\nthis may be, these obscure words once imagined, it was necessary to\nattach ideas to them; in doing this, he has not been able to draw them\nfrom any other source than the beings of this despised nature, which are\never the only beings of which he is enabled to have any knowledge. Man,\nconsequently, drew them up in himself; his own soul served for the model\nof the universal soul, of which indeed according to some it only formed\na portion; his own mind was the standard of the mind that regulated\nnature; his own passions, his own desires, were the prototypes of those\nby which he actuated this being; his own intelligence was that from\nwhich he formed that of the mover of nature; that which was suitable\nto himself, he called the order of nature; this pretended order was the\nscale by which he measured the wisdom of this being; in short, those\nqualities which he calls perfections in himself, were the archetypes\nin miniature, of the perfections of the being, he thus gratuitously\nsupposed to be the agent, who operated the phenomena of nature. It\nwas thus, that in despite of all their efforts, the theologians\nwere, perhaps always will be, true Anthropomorphites. A sect of this\ndenomination appeared in 359, in Egypt, they held the doctrine that\ntheir god had a bodily shape. Indeed it is very difficult, if not\nimpossible to prevent man from making himself the sole model of his\ndivinity. Montaigne says \"man is not able to be other than he is, nor\nimagine but after his capacity; let him take what pains he may, he will\nnever have a knowledge of any soul but his own.\" Xenophanes said, \"if\nthe ox or the elephant understood either sculpture or painting, they\nwould not fail to represent the divinity under their own peculiar figure\nthat in this, they would have as much reason as Polyclitus or Phidias,\nwho gave him the human form.\" It was said to a very celebrated man that\n\"God made man after his own image;\" \"man has returned the compliment,\"\nreplied the philosopher. Indeed, man generally sees in his God, nothing\nbut a man. Let him subtilize as he will, let him extend his own powers\nas he may, let him swell his own perfections to the utmost, he will have\ndone nothing more than make a gigantic, exaggerated man, whom he will\nrender illusory by dint of heaping together incompatible qualities. He\nwill never see in such a god, but a being of the human species, in whom\nhe will strive to aggrandize the proportions, until he has formed a\nbeing totally inconceivable. It is according to these dispositions that\nhe attributes intelligence, wisdom, goodness, justice, science, power,\nto his divinity, because he is himself intelligent; because he has the\nidea of wisdom in some beings of his own species; because he loves to\nfind in them ideas favourable to himself: because he esteems those\nwho display equity; because he has a knowledge, which he holds more\nextensive in some individuals than himself; in short, because he enjoys\ncertain faculties which depend on his own organization. He presently\nextends or exaggerates all these qualities in forming his god; the sight\nof the phenomena of nature, which he feels he is himself incapable\nof either producing or imitating, obliges him to make this difference\nbetween the being he pourtrays and himself; but he knows not at what\npoint to stop; he fears lest he should deceive himself, if he should see\nany limits to the qualities he assigns, the word infinite, therefore, is\nthe abstract, the vague term which he uses to characterize them. He says\nthat his power is infinite, which signifies that when he beholds those\nstupendous effects which nature produces, he has no conception at what\npoint his power can rest; that his goodness, his wisdom, his knowledge\nare infinite: this announces that he is ignorant how far these\nperfections ma be carried in a being whose power so much surpasses\nhis own; that he is of infinite duration, because he is not capable\nof conceiving he could have had a beginning or can ever cease to be;\nbecause of this he considers a defect in those transitory beings of\nwhom he beholds the dissolution, whom he sees are subjected to death. He\npresumes the cause of those effects to which he is a witness, of those\nstriking phenomena that assail his sight, is immutable, permanent, not\nsubjected to change, like all the evanescent beings whom he knows are\nsubmitted to dissolution, to destruction, to change of form. This mover\nof nature being always invisible to man, his mode of action being,\nimpenetrable, he believes that, like his soul or the concealed principle\nwhich animates his own body, which he calls spiritual, a spirit, is the\nmoving power of the universe; in consequence he makes a spirit the\nsoul, the life, the principle of motion in nature. Thus when by dint of\nsubtilizing, he has arrived at believing the principle by which his body\nis moved is a spiritual, immaterial substance, he makes the spirit of\nthe universe immaterial in like manner: he makes it immense, although\nwithout extent; immoveable, although capable of moving nature:\nimmutable, although he supposes him to be the author of all the changes,\noperated in the universe.\n\nThe idea of the unity of God, which cost Socrates his life, because the\nAthenians considered those Atheists who believed but in one, was the\ntardy fruit of human meditation. Plato himself did not dare to\nbreak entirely the doctrine of _Polytheism_; he preserved Venus, an\nall-powerful Jupiter, and a Pallas, who was the goddess of the country.\nThe sight of those opposite, frequently contradictory effects, which man\nsaw take place in the world, had a tendency to persuade him there must\nbe a number of distinct powers or causes independent of each other. He\nwas unable to conceive that the various phenomena he beheld, sprung from\na single, from an unique cause; he therefore admitted many causes or\ngods, acting upon different principles; some of which he considered\nfriendly, others as inimical to his race. Such is the origin of that\ndoctrine, so ancient, so universal, which supposed two principles in\nnature, or two powers of opposite interests, who were perpetually at war\nwith each other; by the assistance of which he explained, that constant\nmixture of good and evil, that blending of prosperity with misfortune,\nin a word, those eternal vicissitudes to which in this world the human\nbeing, is subjected. This is the source of those combats which all\nantiquity has supposed to exist between good and wicked gods, between an\nOsiris and a Typhoeus; between an Orosmadis and an Arimanis; between a\nJupiter and the Titanes; in these rencounters man for his own peculiar\ninterest always gave the palm of victory to the beneficent deity; this,\naccording to all the traditions handed down, ever remained in possession\nof the field of battle; it was so far right, as it is evidently for the\nbenefit of mankind that the good should prevail over the wicked.\n\nWhen, however, man acknowledged only one God, he generally supposed the\ndifferent departments of nature were confided to powers subordinate to\nhis supreme orders, under whom the sovereign of the gods discharged\nhis care in the administration of the world. These subaltern gods were\nprodigiously multiplied; each man, each town, each country, had\ntheir local, their tutelary gods; every event, whether fortunate or\nunfortunate, had a divine cause; was the consequence of a sovereign\ndecree; each natural effect, every operation of nature, each passion,\ndepended upon a divinity, which a theological imagination, disposed\nto see gods every where, mistaking nature, either embellished or\ndisfigured. Poetry tuned its harmonious lays, on these occasions,\nexaggerated the details, animated its pictures; credulous ignorance\nreceived the portraits with eagerness--heard the doctrines with\nsubmission.\n\nSuch is the origin of Polytheism: indeed the Greek word _Theos_, [Greek\nletters], is derived from _Theaomai_, [Greek letters], which implies\nto contemplate, or take a view of secret or hidden things. Such are the\nfoundations, such the titles of the hierarchy, which man established\nbetween himself and his gods, because he generally believed he was\nincapable of the exalted privilege of immediately addressing himself\nto the incomprehensible Being whom he had acknowledged for the only\nsovereign of nature, without even having any distinct idea on the\nsubject: such is the true genealogy of those inferior gods whom the\nuninformed place as, a proportional means between themselves and the\nfirst of all other causes. In consequence, among the Greeks and the\nRomans, we see the deities divided into two classes, the one were called\ngreat gods, because the whole world were nearly in accord in deifying\nthe most striking parts of nature, such as the sun, fire; the sea, time,\n&c. these formed a kind of aristocratic order, who were distinguished\nfrom the minor gods, or from the multitude of ethnic divinities, who\nwere entirely local; that is to say, were reverenced only in particular\ncountries, or by individuals; as in Rome, where every citizen had\nhis familiar spirit, called lares; and household god, called penates.\nNevertheless, the first rank of these Pagan divinities, like the latter,\nwere submitted to Fate, that is, to destiny, which obviously is nothing\nmore than nature acting by immutable, rigorous, necessary laws; this\ndestiny was looked upon as the god of gods; it is evident, that this\nwas nothing more than necessity personified; that therefore it was a\nweakness in the heathens to fatigue with their sacrifices, to solicit\nwith their prayers, those divinities whom they themselves believed were\nsubmitted to the decrees of an inexorable destiny, of which it was never\npossible for them to alter the mandates. _But man_, generally, _ceases\nto reason, whenever his theological notions are either brought into\nquestion, or are the subject of his inquiry_.\n\nWhat has been already said, serves to show the common source of that\nmultitude of intermediate powers, subordinate to the gods, but superior\nto man, with which he filled the universe: they were venerated under\nthe names of nymphs, demi-gods, angels, daemons, good and evil genii,\nspirits, heroes, saints, &c. Among the Romans they were called _Dei\nmedioxumi_, intermediate angels; they were looked upon as intercessors,\nas mediators, as powers whom it was necessary to reverence, in order\neither to obtain their favour, appease their anger, or divert their\nmalignant intentions; these constitute different classes of intermediate\ndivinities, who became either the foundation of their hopes, the object\nof their fears, the means of consolation, or the source of dread to\nthose very mortals who only invented them when they found it\nimpossible to form to themselves distinct, perspicuous ideas of the\nincomprehensible Being who governed the world in chief; or when they\ndespaired of being able to hold communication with him directly.\n\nMeditation and reflection diminished the number of those deities\nwhich composed the ethnic polytheism: some who gave the subject more\nconsideration than others, reduced the whole to one all-powerful\nJupiter; but still they painted this being in the most hideous\ncolours, gave him the most revolting features, because they were still\nobstinately bent on making man, his action and his passions, the model:\nthis folly led them into continual perplexities, because it heaped\ntogether contradictory, incompatible, extravagant qualities; it was\nquite natural it should do so: the limited views, the superficial\nknowledge, the irregular desires of frail, feeble mortals, were but\nlittle calculated to typify the mind of the real Divinity; of that great\n_Cause of causes_, that _Parent of parents_, from whom every thing must\nhave emanated. Although they persuaded themselves it was sinning to give\nhim rivals, yet they described him as a jealous monarch who could not\nbear a division of empire; thus taking the vanity of earthly princes for\ntheir emblem, as if it was possible such a being could have a competitor\nlike a terrestrial monarch. Not having contemplated the immutable laws\nwith which he has invested nature, to which every thing it contains is\nsubjected, which are the result of the most perfect wisdom, they were\npuzzled to account for the contrariety of those effects which their\nweak minds led them to suppose as evils; seeing that sometimes those who\nfulfilled in the most faithful manner their duties in this life, were\ninvolved in the same ruin with the boldest, the most inconsiderate\nviolaters: thus in making him the immediate agent, instead of the first\nauthor, the executive instead of the formative power, they caused him\nto appear capricious, as unreasonably vindictive against his creatures,\nwhen they ought to have known that his wisdom was unlimited, his\nkindness without bounds, when he infused into nature that power which\nproduces these apparently contradictory effects; which, although they\nseem injurious to man's interests, are, if he was but capacitated\nto judge fairly, the most beneficial advantages that he can possibly\nderive. Thus they made the Divinity appear improvident, by continually\nemploying him to destroy the work of his own hands: they, in fact, taxed\nhim with impotence, by the perpetual non-performance of those projects\nof which their own imbecillity, their own erring judgment, had vainly\nsupposed him to be the contriver.\n\nTo solve these difficulties, man created enemies to the Divinity, who\nalthough subordinate to the supreme God, were nevertheless competent\nto disturb his empire, to frustrate his views. Can any thing be worse\nconceived, can any thing be more truly derogatory to the great _Parent\nof parents_, than thus to make him resemble a king, who is surrounded\nwith adversaries, willing to dispute with him his diadem? Such, however,\nis the origin of the _Fable of the Titanes_, or of the _rebellious\nangels_, whose presumption caused them to be plunged into the abyss\nof misery--who were changed into _demons_, or into evil genii: these\naccording to their mythology, had no other functions, than to render\nabortive the projects of the Divinity; to seduce, to raise to rebellion,\nthose who were his subjects. Miserable invention, feeble subterfuge,\nfor the vices of mankind, although decorated with all the beauty of\nlanguage. Can then sublimity of versification, the harmony of numbers,\nreconcile man to the idea that the puny offspring of natural causes is\nadequate for a single instant to dispute the commands, to thwart the\ndesires, to render nugatory the decrees of a Being whose wisdom is of\nthe most polished perfection; whose goodness is boundless; whose power\nmust be more capacious than the human mind can possibly conceive?\n\nIn consequence of this _Fable of the Titanes_, the monarch of nature was\nrepresented as perpetually in a scuffle with the enemies he had himself\ncreated; as unwilling totally to subdue those with whom these fabulists\nhave described him as dividing his authority--partaking his supreme\npower. This again was borrowed from the conduct of earthly monarchs,\nwho, when they find a potent enemy, make a treaty with him; but this was\nquite unnecessary for the great _Cause of causes_; and only shows that\nman is utterly incapable of forming any other ideas than those which he\nderives from the situation of those of his own race, or of the beings\nby whom he is surrounded. According to this fable the subjects of the\nuniversal Monarch were never properly submitted to his authority; like\nan earthly king, he was in a continual state of hostility, and punished\nthose who had the misfortune to enter into the conspiracies of the\nenemies of his glory: seeing that human legislators put forth laws,\nissued decrees, they established similar institutions for the Divinity;\nestablished oracles; his ministers pretended, through these mysterious\nmediums, to convey to the people his heavenly mandates, to unveil his\nconcealed intentions: the ignorant multitude received these without\nexamination, they did not perceive that it was man, and not the\nDivinity, who thus spoke to them; they did not feel that it must be\nimpossible for weak creatures to act contrary to the will of God.\n\nThe _Fable of the Titanes, or rebellious angels_, is extremely ancient;\nvery generally diffused over the world; it serves for the foundation\nof the theology of the Brachmins of Hindostan: according to these, all\nliving bodies are animated by _fallen angels_, who under these forms\nexpiate their rebellion. These contradictory notions were the basis of\nnearly all the superstitions of the world; by these means they imagined\nthey accounted for the origin of evil--demonstrated the cause why the\nhuman species experience misery. In short, the conduct of the most\narbitrary tyrants of the earth was but too frequently brought forth, too\noften acted upon, in forming the character of the Divinity, held forth\nto the worship of man: their imperfect jurisprudence was the source from\nwhence they drew that which they ascribed to their god. Pagan theology\nwas remarkable for displaying in the character of their divinities the\nmost dissolute vices; for making them vindictive; for causing them to\npunish with extreme rigour those, crimes which the oracles predicted; to\ndoom to the most lasting torments those who sinned without knowing their\ntransgression; to hurl vengeance on those who were ignorant of their\nobscure will, delivered in language which set comprehension at defiance;\nunless it was by the priest who both made and fulminated it. It was upon\nthese unreasonable notions, that the theologians founded the worship\nwhich man ought to render to the Divinity. Do not then let us be at all\nsurprised if the superstitious man was in a state of continual alarm:\nif he experienced trances--if his mind was ever in the most tormenting\ndread; the idea of his gods recalled to him unceasingly, that of a\npitiless tyrant who sported with the miseries of his subjects; who,\nwithout being conscious of their own wrong, might at each moment incur\nhis displeasure: he could not avoid feeling that although they had\nformed the universe entirely for man, yet justice did not regulate the\nactions of these powerful beings, or rather those of the priests; but he\nalso believed that their elevated rank placed them infinitely above the\nhuman species, that therefore they might afflict him at their pleasure.\n\nIt is then for want of considering good and evil as equally necessary;\nit is for want of attributing them to their true causes, that man has\ncreated to himself fictitious powers, malicious divinities, respecting\nwhom it is found so difficult to undeceive him. Nevertheless, in\ncontemplating nature, he would have been able to have perceived, that\n_physical evil_ is a necessary consequence of the peculiar properties of\nsome beings; he would have acknowledged that plague, contagion,\ndisease, are due to physical causes under particular circumstances;\nto combinations, which, although extremely natural, are fatal to his\nspecies; he would have sought--in the bosom of nature herself the\nremedies suitable to diminish these evils, or to have caused the\ncessation of those effects under which he suffered: he would have\nseen in like manner that _moral evil_ was the necessary consequence\nof defective institutions; that it was not to the Divinity, but to the\ninjustice of his fellows he ought to ascribe those wars, that\npoverty, those famines, those reverses of fortune, those multitudinous\ncalamities, those vices, those crimes, under which he so frequently\ngroans. Thus to rid himself of these evils he would not have uselessly\nextended his trembling hands towards shadows incapable of relieving him;\ntowards beings who were not the authors of his sorrows; he would have\nsought remedies for these misfortunes in a more rational\nadministration of justice--in more equitable laws--in more I reasonable\ninstitutions--in a greater degree of benevolence towards his fellow\nman--in a more punctual performance of his own duties.\n\nAs these gods were generally depicted to man as implacable to his\nfrailties as they denounced nothing but the most dreadful punishments\nagainst those who involuntarily offended, it is not at all surprising\nthat the sentiment of fear prevailed over that of love: the gloomy\nideas presented to his mind were calculated to make him tremble, without\nmaking him better; an attention to this truth will serve to explain the\nfoundation of that fantastical, irrational, frequently cruel worship,\nwhich was paid to these divinities; he often committed the most cruel\nextravagancies against his own person, the most hideous crimes against\nthe person of others, under the idea that in so doing, he disarmed the\nanger, appeased the justice, recalled the clemency, deserved the mercy\nof his gods.\n\nIn general, the superstitious systems of man, his human and other\nsacrifices, his prayers, his ceremonies, his customs; have had only for\ntheir object either to divert the fury of his gods, whom he believed he\nhad offended; to render them propitious to his own selfish views; or\nto excite in them that good disposition towards himself, which his own\nperverse mode of thinking made him imagine they bestowed exclusively on\nothers: on the other hand, the efforts, the subtilties of theology, have\nseldom had any other end, than to reconcile in the divinities it has\npourtrayed, those discordant ideas which its own dogmas has raised in\nthe minds of mortals. From what has preceded, it may fairly be concluded\nthat ethnic theology undermined itself by its own inconsistencies;\nthat the art of composing chimeras may therefore with great justice be\ndefined to be that of combining those qualities which are impossible to\nbe reconciled with each other.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. III.\n\n_Of the confused and contradictory Ideas of Theology._\n\n\nEvery thing that has been said, proves pretty clearly, that, in despite\nof all his efforts, man has never been able to prevent himself from\ndrawing together from his own peculiar nature, the qualities he has\nassigned to the Being who governs the universe. The contradictions\nnecessarily resulting from the incompatible assemblage of these human\nqualities, which cannot become suitable to the same subject, seeing\nthat the existence of one destroys the existence of the other, have\nbeen shewn:--the theologians themselves have felt the insurmountable\ndifficulties which their divinities presented to reason: they were\nso substantive, that as they felt the impossibility of withdrawing\nthemselves out of the dilemma, they endeavoured to prevent man\nfrom reasoning, by throwing his mind into confusion--by continually\naugmenting the perplexity of those ideas, already so discordant, which\nthey offered him of the gods. By these means they enveloped them in\nmystery, covered them with dense clouds, rendered them inaccessible to\nmankind: thus they themselves became the interpreters, the masters of\nexplaining, according either to their fancy or their interest, the ways\nof those enigmatical beings they made him adore. For this purpose they\nexaggerated them more and more--neither time nor space, nor the\nentire of nature could contain their immensity--every thing became an\nimpenetrable mystery. Although man has originally borrowed from himself\nthe traits, the colours, the primitive lineaments of which he composed\nhis gods; although he has made them jealous, powerful, vindictive\nmonarchs, yet his theology, by force of dreaming, entirely lost sight\nof human nature. In order to render his divinities still more different\nfrom their creatures, it assigned them, over and above the usual\nqualities of man, properties so marvellous, so uncommon, so far removed\nfrom every thing of which his mind could form a conception, that he lost\nsight of them himself. From thence he persuaded himself these qualities\nwere divine, because he could no longer comprehend them; he believed\nthem worthy of his gods, because no man could figure to himself any one\ndistinct idea of them. Thus theology obtained the point of persuading\nman he must believe that which he could not conceive; that he must\nreceive with submission improbable systems; that he must adopt, with\npious deference, conjectures contrary to his reason; that this reason\nitself was the most agreeable sacrifice he could make on the altars of\nhis gods, who were unwilling he should use the gift they had bestowed\nupon him. In short, it had made mortals implicitly believe that they\nwere not formed to comprehend the thing of all others the most important\nto themselves. Thus it is evident that superstition founded its basis\nupon the absurd principle that man is obliged to accredit firmly that\nwhich he is in the most complete impossibility of comprehending. On\nthe other hand, man persuaded himself that the gigantic, the truly\nincomprehensible attributes which were assigned to these celestial\nmonarchs, placed between them and their slaves a distance so immense,\nthat these could not be by any means offended with the comparison; that\nthese distinctions rendered them still greater; made them more powerful,\nmore marvellous, more inaccessible to observation. Man always entertains\nthe idea, that what he is not in a condition to conceive, is much more\nnoble, much wore respectable, than that which he has the capacity\nto comprehend. The more a thing is removed from his reach, the more\nvaluable it always appears.\n\nThese prejudices in man for the marvellous, appear to have been the\nsource that gave birth to those wonderful, unintelligible qualities with\nwhich superstition clothed these divinities. The invincible ignorance\nof the human mind, whose fears reduced him to despair, engendered those\nobscure, vague notions, with which mythology decorated its gods. He\nbelieved he could never displease them, provided he rendered them\nincommensurable; impossible to be compared with any thing, of which he\nhad a knowledge; either with that which was most sublime, or that which\npossessed the greatest magnitude, From hence the multitude of negative\nattributes with which ingenious dreamers have successively embellished\ntheir phantoms, to the end that they might more surely form a being\ndistinguished from all others, or which possessed nothing in common with\nthat which the human mind had the faculty of being acquainted with: they\ndid not perceive that after all their endeavours, it was nothing wore\nthan exaggerated human qualities, which they thus heaped together, with\nno more skill than a painter would display who should delineate all the\nmembers of the body of the same size, taking a giant for dimension.\n\nThe theological attributes with which metaphysicians decorated these\ndivinities, were in fact nothing but pure negations of the qualities\nfound in man, or in those beings of which he has a knowledge; by these\nattributes their gods were supposed exempted from every thing which they\nconsidered weakness or imperfection in him, or in the beings by whom he\nis surrounded: they called every quality infinite, which has been\nshewn is only to affirm, that unlike man, or the beings with whom he\nis acquainted, it is not circumscribed by the limits of space; this,\nhowever, is what he can never in any manner comprehend, because he is\nhimself finite. Hobbes in his _Leviathan_, says, \"whatsoever we imagine\nis finite. Therefore there is no idea, or conception of any thing\nwe call infinite. No man can have in his mind an image of infinite\nmagnitude, nor conceive infinite swiftness, infinite time, infinite\nforce, or infinite power. When we say any thing is infinite, we signify\nonly, that we are not able to conceive the ends and bound of the thing\nnamed, having no conception of the thing, but of our own inability.\"\nSherlock says, \"the word infinite is only a negation, which signifies\nthat which has neither end, nor limits, nor extent, and, consequently,\nthat which has no positive and determinate nature, and is therefore\nnothing;\" he adds, \"that nothing but custom has caused this word to\nbe adopted, which without that, would appear devoid of sense, and a\ncontradiction.\"\n\nWhen it is said these gods are eternal, it signifies they have not had,\nlike man or like every thing that exists, a beginning, and that they\nwill never have an end: to say they are immutable, is to say, that\nunlike himself or every thing which he sees, they are not subject to\nchange: to say they are immaterial, is to advance, that their substance\nor essence is of a nature not conceivable by himself, but which must\nfrom that very circumstance be totally different from every thing of\nwhich he has cognizance.\n\nIt is from the confused collection of these negative qualities, that has\nresulted the theological gods; those metaphysical wholes of which it\nis impossible for man to form to himself any correct idea. In\nthese abstract beings every thing is infinity,--immensity,--\nspirituality,--omniscience,--order,--wisdom,--intelligence,--\nomnipotence. In combining these vague terms, or these modifications, the\nethnic priests believed they formed something, they extended these\nqualities by thought, and they imagined they made gods, whilst they only\ncomposed chimeras. They imagined that these perfections or these\nqualities must be suitable to their gods, because they were not suitable\nto any thing of which they had a knowledge; they believed that\nincomprehensible beings must have inconceivable qualities. These were\nthe materials of which theology availed itself to compose those\ninexplicable shadows before which they commanded the human race to bend\nthe knee.\n\nNevertheless, experience soon proved that beings so vague, so impossible\nto be conceived, so incapable of definition, so far removed from every\nthing of which man could have any knowledge, were but little calculated\nto fix his restless views; his mind requires to be arrested by qualities\nwhich he is capacitated to ascertain; of which he is in a condition to\nform a judgment. Thus after it had subtilized these metaphysical gods,\nafter it had rendered them so different in idea, from every thing that\nacts upon the senses, theology found itself under the necessity of\nagain assimilating them to man, from whom it had so far removed them: it\ntherefore again made them human by the moral qualities which it assigned\nthem; it felt that without this it would not be able to persuade mankind\nthere could possibly exist any relation between him and such vague,\nethereal, fugitive, incommensurable beings; that it would never be\ncompetent to secure for them his adoration.\n\nIt began to perceive that these marvellous gods were only calculated\nto exercise the imagination of some few thinkers, whose minds were\naccustomed to labour upon chimerical subjects, or to take words for\nrealities; in short it found, that for the greater number of the\nmaterial children of the earth it was necessary to have gods more\nanalogous to themselves, more sensible, more known to them. In\nconsequence these divinities were re-clothed with human qualities;\ntheology never felt the incompatibility of these qualities with beings\nit had made essentially different from man, who consequently could\nneither have his properties, nor be modified like himself. It did not\nsee that gods who were immaterial, destitute of corporeal organs, were\nneither able to think nor to act as material beings, whose peculiar\norganizations render them susceptible of the qualities, the feelings\nthe will, the virtues, that are found in them. The necessity it felt to\nassimilate the gods to their worshippers, to make an affinity\nbetween them, made it pass over without consideration these palpable\ncontradictions--this want of keeping in their portrait: thus ethnic\ntheology obstinately continued to unite those incompatible qualities,\nthat discrepancy of character, which the human mind attempted in vain\neither to conceive or to reconcile: according to it, pure spirits were\nthe movers of the material world; immense beings were enabled to occupy\nspace, without however excluding nature; immutable deities were the\ncauses of those continual changes operated in the world: omnipotent\nbeings did not prevent those evils which were displeasing to them;\nthe sources of order submitted to confusion: in short, the wonderful\nproperties of these theological beings every moment contradicted\nthemselves.\n\nThere is not less discrepancy, less incompatibility, less discordance\nin the human perfections, less contradiction in the moral qualities\nattributed to them, to the end that man might be enabled to form to\nhimself some idea of these beings. These were all said to be _eminently_\npossessed by the gods, although they every moment contradicted each\nother: by this means they formed a kind of patch-work character,\nheterogeneous beings, discrepant phenomena, entirely inconceivable to\nman, because nature had never constructed any thing like them, whereby\nhe was enabled to form a judgment. Man was assured they were eminently\ngood--that it was visible in all their actions. Now goodness is a known\nquality, recognizable in some beings of the human species; this is,\nabove every other, a property he is desirous to find in all those upon\nwhom he is in a state of dependence; but he is unable to bestow the\ntitle of good on any among his fellows, except their actions produce on\nhim those effects which he approves--that he finds in unison with his\nexistence--in conformity with his own peculiar modes of thinking. It was\nevident, according to this reasoning, these ethnic gods did not impress\nhim with this idea; they were said to be equally the authors of his\npleasures, as of his pains, which were to be either secured or averted\nby sacrifices: thus when man suffered by contagion, when he was the\nvictim of shipwreck, when his country was desolated by war, when he saw\nwhole nations devoured by rapacious earthquakes, when he was a prey to\nthe keenest sorrows, he at least was unable to conceive the bounty of\nthose beings. How could he perceive the beautiful order which they had\nintroduced into the world, while he groaned under such a multitude of\ncalamities? How was he able to discern the beneficence of men whom he\nbeheld sporting as it were with his species? How could he conceive the\nconsistency of those who destroyed that which he was assured they had\ntaken such pains to establish, solely for his own peculiar happiness?\nBut had his mind been properly enlightened, had he been taught to know,\nthat nature, acting by unerring laws, produces all the phenomena he\nbeholds as a necessary consequence of her primitive impulse--that\nlike the rest of nature he was himself subjected to the general\noperation--that no peculiar exemption had been made in his behalf--that\nsacrifices were useless--that the great _Parent of parents_, equally\nmindful of all his creatures, had set in action with the most consummate\nwisdom an invariable system, the apparent, casual evils of which were\never counterbalanced by the resulting good; that without repining, it\nwas his duty, his interest, to submit; at the same time to examine with\nsedulity, to search with earnestness, into the recesses of this nature\nfor remedies to the sorrows he endured. If he had been thus instructed,\nwe should never behold him arraigning either the kindness, the wisdom,\nor the consistency of the gods; he would neither have ascribed his\nsufferings to the malicious interference of inferior deities, so\nderogatory to the divine majesty of the _Great Cause of causes_, nor\nwould he have taxed with either inconsistency or unkindness, that nature\nwhich cannot act otherwise than she does. Perhaps of all the ideas that\ncan be infused into the mind of man, none is more really subversive of\nhis true happiness, none more incompatible with the reality of things,\nthan that which persuades him he is himself a privileged being, the king\nof a nature where every thing is submitted to laws, the extent of which\nhis finite mind cannot possibly conceive. Even admitting it should\nultimately turn out to be a fact, he has yet no one positive evidence\nto justify the assumption; experience, which after all must always prove\nthe best criterion for his judgment, daily proves, that in every thing\nhe is subjected, like every other part of nature, to those invariable\ndecrees from which nothing that he beholds is exempted.\n\nFeeble monarch! of whom a grain of sand, some atoms of bile, some\nmisplaced humours, destroy at once the existence and the reign: yet thou\npretendest every thing was made for thee! Thou desirest that the entire\nof nature should be thy domain, and thou canst not even defend thyself\nfrom the slightest of her shocks! Thou makest to thyself a god for\nthyself alone; thou supposest that he unceasingly occupieth himself only\nfor thy peculiar happiness; thou imaginest every thing was made solely\nfor thy pleasure; and, following up thy presumptuous ideas, thou hast\nthe audacity to call nature good or bad as thy weak intellect inclines:\nthou darest to think that the kindness exhibited towards thee, in common\nwith other beings, is contradicted by the evil genii thy fancy has\ncreated! Dost thou not see that those beasts which thou supposest\nsubmitted to thine empire, frequently devour thy fellow-creatures;\nthat fire consumeth them; that the ocean swalloweth them up; that those\nelements of which thou sometimes admirest the order, which sometimes\nthou accusest of confusion, frequently sweep them off the face of the\nearth; dost thou not see that all this is necessarily what it must be;\nthat thou art not in any manner consulted in any of this phenomena?\nIndeed, according to thine own ideas, if thou wast to examine them with\ncare, dost thou not admit that thy gods are the universal cause of all;\nthat they maintain the whole by the destruction of its parts. Are they\nnot then according to thyself, the gods of nature--of the ocean--of\nrivers--of mountains--of the earth, in which they occupiest, so very\nsmall a space--of all those other globes that thou seest roll in\nthe regions of space--of those orbs that revolve round the sun that\nenlighteneth thee?--Cease, then, obstinately to persist in beholding\nnothing but thy sickly self in nature; do not flatter thyself that the\nhuman race, which reneweth itself, which disappeareth like the leaves\non the trees, can absorb all the care, can ingross all the tenderness\nof that universal being, who, according to thyself, properly understood,\nruleth the destiny of all things. Submit thyself in silence to mandates\nwhich thy unavailing prayers; can never change; to a wisdom which\nthy imbecility cannot fathom; to the unerring shafts of a fate, which\nnothing but thine own vanity, aided by thy perverse ignorance, could\never question, being the best possible good that can befall thee! which\nif thou couldst alter, thou wouldst with thy defective judgment render\nworse! What is the human race compared to the earth? What is this earth\ncompared to the sun? What is our sun compared to those myriads of suns\nwhich at immense distances occupy the regions of space? not for the\npurpose of diverting thy weak eyes; not with a view to excite thy stupid\nadmiration, as thou vainly imaginest; since multitudes of them are\nplaced out of the range of thy visual organs: but to occupy the place\nwhich necessity hath assigned them. Mortal, feeble and vain! restore\nthyself to thy proper sphere; acknowledge every where the effect\nof necessity; recognize in thy benefits, behold in thy sorrows, the\ndifferent modes of action of those various beings endowed with such a\nvariety of properties, which surround thee; of which the macrocosm is\nthe assemblage; and do not any longer suppose that this nature, much\nless its great cause, can possess such incompatible qualities as would\nbe the result of human views or of visionary ideas, which have no\nexistence but in thyself.\n\nAs long as theologians shall continue obstinately bent to make man the\nmodel of their gods; as long ask they shall pertinaciously undertake to\nexplain the nature of these gods, which they will never be able to\ndo, but after human ideas, although they may associate the most\nheterogeneous properties, the most discrepant functions; so long, I say,\nexperience will contradict at every moment the beneficent views they,\nattach to their divinities; it will be in vain that they call them\ngood: man, reasoning thus, will never be able to find good but in those\nobjects which impel him in a manner favourable to his actual mode\nof existence; he always finds confusion in that which fills him with\ngrievous sensations; he calls evil every thing that painfully affects\nhim, even cursorily; those beings that produce in him two modes of\nfeeling, so very opposite to each other, he will naturally conclude are\nsometimes favourable, sometimes unfavourable to him; at least, if he\nwill not allow that they act necessarily, consequently are neither one\nnor the other, he will say that a world where he experiences so much\nevil cannot be submitted to men who are perfectly good; on the other\nhand, he will also assume that a world in which man receives so many\nbenefits, cannot be governed by those who are without kindness. Thus\nhe is obliged to admit of two principles equally powerful, who are\nin hostility with each other; or rather, he must agree that the same\npersons are alternately kind and unkind; this after all is nothing more\nthan avowing they cannot be otherwise than they are; in this case it\nwould be useless to sacrifice to them--to make solicitation; seeing\nit would be nothing but _destiny_--the necessity of things submitted\ninvariable rules.\n\nIn order to justify these beings, constructed upon mortal principles,\nfrom injustice, in consequence of the evils the human species\nexperience, the theologian is reduced to the necessity of calling them\npunishments inflicted for the transgressions of man. But then these\ngeneral calamities include all men. Some, at least, may be supposed not\nto have offended. Thus he involves contradictions he finds it difficult\nto reconcile; to effectuate this he makes his _anthropomorphites_\nimmaterial--incorporeal; that is, he says they are the negation of every\nthing of which he has a knowledge; consequently, beings who can have no\nrelation with corporeal beings: and this avails him no better, as\nwill be evident by reasoning on the subject. To offend any one, is to\ndiminish the sum of his happiness; it is to afflict him, to deprive\nhim of something, to make him experience a painful sensation. How is it\npossible man can operate on such beings; how can the physical actions\nof a material substance have any influence over an immaterial substance,\ndevoid of parts, having no point of contact. How can a corporeal being\nmake an incorporeal being experience incommodious sensations? On the\nother hand, _justice_, according to the only ideas man can ever form of\nit, supposes, a permanent disposition to render to each what is due\nto him; the theologian will not admit that the beings he has jumbled\ntogether owe any thing to man; he insists that the benefits they bestow\nare all the gratuitous effects of their own goodness; that they have\nthe right to dispose of the work of their hands according to their\nown pleasure; to plunge it if they please into the abyss of misery; in\nshort, that their volition is the only guide of their conduct. It is\neasy to see, that according to man's idea of justice, this does not\neven contain the shadow of it; that it is, in fact, the mode of action\nadopted by what he calls the most frightful tyrants. How then can he\nbe induced to call men just who act after this manner? Indeed, while\nhe sees innocence suffering, virtue in tears, crime triumphant, vice\nrecompensed, and at the same time, is told the beings whom theology has\ninvented are the authors, he will never be able to acknowledge them\nto have _justice_. But he will find no such contradictory qualities in\nnature, where every thing is the result of immutable laws: he will at\nonce perceive that these transient evils produce more permanent good;\nthat they are necessary to the conservation of the whole, or else result\nfrom modifications of matter, which it is competent for him to change,\nby altering his own mode of action; a lesson that nature herself teaches\nhim when he is willing to receive her instructions. But to form gods\nwith human passions, is to make them appear unjust; to say that such\nbeings chastise their friends for their own I good, is at once to\nupset all the ideas he has either of kindness or unkindness: thus\nthe incompatible human qualities ascribed to these beings, do in fact\ndestroy their existence. If it be insisted they have the knowledge and\npower of man, only that they are more extended, then it becomes a very\nnatural reply, to say, since they know every thing, they ought at least\nto restrain mischief; because this would be the observation of man upon\nthe action of his fellows;--if it be urged these qualities are similar\nto the same qualities possessed by man, then it may be fairly asked in\nwhat do they differ? To this, if any answer be given, be what it may, it\nwill still be only changing the language: it will be invariably another\nmethod of expressing the same thing; seeing that man with all his\ningenuity, will never be able to describe properties but after himself\nor those of the beings by whom he is surrounded.\n\nWhere is the man filled with kindness, endowed with humanity, who does\nnot desire with all his heart to render his fellow creatures happy? If\nthese beings, as the theologians assert, really have man's qualities\naugmented, would they not, by the same reasoning, exercise their\ninfinite power to render them all happy? Nevertheless, in despite of\nthese theologists, we scarcely find any one who is perfectly satisfied\nwith his condition on earth: for one mortal that enjoys, we behold\na thousand who suffer; for one rich man who lives in the midst of\nabundance, there are thousands of poor who want common necessaries:\nwhole nations groan in indigence, to satisfy the passions of some\navaricious princes, of some few nobles, who are not thereby rendered\nmore contented--who do not acknowledge themselves more fortunate on\nthat account. In short, under the dominion of these beings, the earth\nis drenched with the tears of the miserable. What must be the inference\nfrom all this? That they are either negligent of, or incompetent to, his\nhappiness. But the mythologists will tell you coolly, that the judgments\nof his gods are impenetrable! How do we understand this term? Not to be\ntaught--not to be informed--impervious--not to be pierced: in this case\nit would be an unreasonable question to inquire by what authority do you\nreason upon them? How do you become acquainted with these impenetrable\nmysteries? Upon what foundation do you attribute virtues which you\ncannot penetrate? What idea do you form to yourself of a justice that\nnever resembles that of man? Or is it a truth that you yourself are not\na man, but one of those impenetrable beings whom you say you represent?\n\nTo withdraw themselves from this, they will affirm that the justice of\nthese idols are tempered with mercy, with compassion, with goodness:\nthese again are human qualities: what, therefore, shall we understand by\nthem? What idea do we attach to mercy? Is it not a derogation from the\nsevere rules of an exact, a rigorous justice, which causes a\nremission of some part of a merited punishment? Here hinges the great\nincompatibility, the incongruity of those qualities, especially when\naugmented by the word _omni_; which shews how little suitable human\nproperties are to the formation of divinities. In a prince, clemency is\neither a violation of justice, or the exemption from a too severe law:\nnevertheless, man approves of clemency in a sovereign, when its too\ngreat facility does not become prejudicial to society; he esteems it,\nbecause it announces humanity, mildness, a compassionate, noble soul;\nqualities he prefers in his governors to rigour, cruelty, inflexibility:\nbesides, human laws are defective; they are frequently too severe; they\nare not competent to foresee all the circumstances of every case: the\npunishments they decree are not always commensurate with the offence:\nhe therefore does not always think them just: but he feels very well,\nhe understands distinctly, that when the sovereign extends his mercy, he\nrelaxes from his justice--that if mercy he merited, the punishment ought\nnot to take place--that then its exercise is no longer clemency, but\njustice: thus he feels, that in his fellow creatures these two qualities\ncannot exist at the same moment. How then is he to form his judgment of\nbeings who are represented to possess both in the extremest degree? Is\nit not, in fact, announcing these beings to be men like ourselves, who\nact with our imperfections on an enlarged scale?\n\nThey then say, well, but in the next world these idols will reward you\nfor all the evils you suffer in this: this, indeed, is something to\nlook to, if it could be contemplated alone; unmixed with all they have\nformerly asserted: if we could also find that there was an unison of\nthinking on this point--if there was a reasonable comprehensible view of\nit held forth: but alas! here again human pleasures, human feelings, are\nthe basis on which these rewards are rested; only they are promised in a\nway we cannot comprehend them; houris, or females who are to remain for\never virgins, notwithstanding the knowledge of man, are so opposed to\nall human comprehension, so opposite to all experience, are such mystic\nassertions, that the human mind cannot possibly embrace an idea of\nthem: besides this is only promised by one class of these beings; others\naffirm it will be altogether different: in short, the number of modes\nin which this hereafter reward is promised to him, obliges man to ask\nhimself one plain question, Which is the real history of these blissful\nabodes? At this question he staggers--he seeks for advice: each assures\nhim that the other is in error--that his peculiar mode is that which\nwill really have place; that to believe the other is a crime. How is\nhe to judge now? Take what course he will, he runs the chance of being\nwrong; he has no standard whereby to measure the correctness of these\ncontradictory assurances; his mind is held suspended; he feels the\nimpossibility of the whole being right; he knows not that which he ought\nto elect! Again, they have positively asserted these beings owe nothing\nto man: how then is he to expect in a future life, a more real happiness\nthan he enjoys in the present? This they parry, by assuring him it\nis founded upon their promises, contained in their revealed oracles.\nGranted: but is he quite certain these oracles have emanated from\nthemselves? If they are so different in their detail, may there not\nbe reasonable ground for suspecting some of them are not authentic? If\nthere is, which are the spurious, which are the genuine? By what rule\nis he to guide himself in the choice; how, with his frail methods\nof judging, is he to scrutinize oracles delivered by such powerful\nbeings--to discriminate the true from the false? The ministers of each\nwill give you an infallible method, one that, is according to their\nown asseveration, cannot err; that is, by an implicit belief in the\nparticular doctrine each promulgates.\n\nThus will be perceived the multitude of contradictions, the extravagant\nhypotheses which these human attributes, with which theology clothes its\ndivinities, must necessarily produce. Beings embracing at one time so\nmany discordant qualities will always be undefinable--can only present a\ntrain of ideas calculated to displace each other; they will consequently\never remain beings of the imagination. These beings, say their\nministers, created the heavens, the earth, the creatures who inhabit\nit, to manifest their own peculiar glory; they have neither rivals, nor\nequals in nature; nothing which can be compared with them. Glory\nis, again, a human passion: it is in man the desire of giving his\nfellow-creatures an high opinion of him; this, passion is laudable when\nit stimulates him to undertake great projects--when it determines him to\nperform useful actions--but it is very frequently a weakness attached\nto his nature; it is nothing more than a desire to be distinguished from\nthose beings with whom he compares himself, without exciting him to one\nnoble, one generous act. It is easy to perceive that beings who are so\nmuch elevated above men, cannot be actuated by such a defective passion.\nThey say these beings are jealous of their prerogatives. Jealousy is\nanother human passion, not always of the most respectable kind: but it\nis rather difficult to conceive the existence of jealousy with profound\nwisdom, unlimited power, and the perfection of justice. Thus the\ntheologians by dint of heaping quality on quality, aggrandizing each as\nis added, seem to have reduced themselves to the situation of a painter,\nwho spreading all his colours upon his canvas together, after thus\nblending them into an unique mass, loses sight of the whole in the\ncomposition.\n\nThey will, nevertheless, reply to these difficulties, that goodness,\nwisdom, justice, are in these beings qualities so pre-eminent, so\ndistinct, have so little affinity with these same qualities in man, that\nthey are totally dissimilar--have not the least relation. Admit this\nto be the case, How then can he form to himself any idea of these\nperfections, seeing they are totally unlike those with which he is\nacquainted? They surely cannot mean to insinuate that they are the\nreverse of every thing he understands; because that would, in effect,\nbring them to a precise point which would not need any explanation;\nit is therefore a matter of certainty this cannot be the case: then if\nthese qualities, when exercised by the beings they have described, are\nonly human actions so obscured, so hidden, as not to be recognizable by\nman, How can weak mortals pretend to announce them, to have a knowledge\nof them, to explain them to others? Does then theology impart to the\nmind the ineffable boon of enabling it to conceive that which no man is\ncompetent to understand? Does it procure for its agents the marvellous\nfaculty of having distinct ideas of beings composed of so many\ncontradictory properties? Does it, in fact, make the theologian himself\none of these incomprehensible beings.\n\nThey will impose silence, by saying the oracles have spoken; that\nthrough these mystical means they have made themselves known to mortals.\nThe next question would naturally be, When, where, or to whom have\nthese oracles spoken? Where are these oracles? An hundred voices raise\nthemselves in the same moment; hands of Briaraeus are immediately\nstretched forth to shew them in a number of discordant collections,\nwhich each maintains, with an equal degree of vehemence, is the true\ncode--the only doctrine man ought to believe: he runs them over, finds\nthey scarcely agree in any one particular; but that in all the heaviest\npenalties are denounced against those who doubt the smallest part of\nany one of them. These beings of consummate wisdom are made to speak an\nobscure, irrational language; some of them, although their goodness\nis proclaimed, have been cruel and sanguinary; others, although their\njustice is held forth, have been partial, unjust, capricious; some, who\nare represented as all merciful, destine to the most hideous punishments\nthe unhappy victims to their wrath: examine any one of them more\nclosely, he will find that they have never in any two countries held\nliterally the same language: that although they are said to have spoken\nin many places, that they have always spoken variously: What is the\nnecessary result? The human mind, incapable of reconciling such manifest\ncontradictions, unable to obtain from their ministers any corroborative\nevidence, that is not disputed by the others, falls into the strangest\nperplexity; is involved in doubts, entangled in a labyrinth to which no\nclue is to be found.\n\nThus the relations, which are supposed to exist between man and these\ntheological idols, can only be founded on the moral qualities of these\nbeings: if these are not known to him, if he cannot in any manner\ncomprehend them, they cannot by any ingenuity of argument serve him for\nmodels. In order that they may be imitated, it is needful that these\nqualities were cognizable by the being who is to imitate them. How\ncan he imitate that goodness, that justice, that mercy, which does not\nresemble either his own, or any thing he can conceive? If these beings\npartake in nothing of that which forms man--if the properties they\ndo possess, although different, are not within the reach of his\ncomprehension--if, he cannot embrace the most distant idea of them,\nwhich the theologian assures him he cannot, How is it possible he\ncan set about imitating them? How follow a conduct suitable to please\nthem--to render himself acceptable in their sight? What can in effect\nbe the motive of that worship, of that homage, of that obedience, which\nthese beings are said to exact--which he is informed he should offer\nat their altars, if he does not establish it upon their goodness--their\nveracity--their justice: in short, upon qualities which he is competent\nto understand? How can he have clear, distinct ideas of those qualities,\nif they are no longer of the same nature as those which he has learned\nto reverence in the beings of his own species?\n\nTo this they will reply, because none of them ever admit the least doubt\nof the rectitude of their own individual creed, that there can be no\nproportion between these idols and mortals, who are the work of their\nhands; that it is not permitted to the clay to demand of the potter who\nhas formed it, \"why ye have fashioned me thus;\"--but if there can be\nno common measure between the workman and his work--if there can be\nno analogy between them, because the one is immaterial, the other\ncorporeal, How do they reciprocally act upon each other? How can the\ngross organs of the one, comprehend the subtile quality of the other?\nReasoning in the only way he is capable, and it surely will never be\nseriously argued that he is not to reason, will he not perceive that\nthe earthen vase could only have received the form which it pleased the\npotter to give; that if it is formed badly, if it is rendered inadequate\nto the use for which it was designed, the vase is not in this instance\nto be blamed; the potter certainly has the power to break it; the vase\ncannot prevent him; it will neither have motives nor means to soften his\nanger; it will be obliged to submit to its destiny; but he will not\nbe able to prevent his mind from thinking the potter harsh in thus\npunishing the vase, rather than by forming it anew, by giving it another\nfigure, render it competent to the purposes he intended.\n\nAccording to these notions the relations between man and these\ntheological beings have no existence, they owe nothing to him, are\ndispensed from shewing him either goodness or justice; that man, on\nthe contrary, owes them every thing: but contradictions appear at every\nstep. If these have promised by their oracles any thing to man, it is\nrather difficult for him to believe, that what is so solemnly promised\ndoes not belong to him if he fulfils the condition of the promise.\nThe difference a theologian may choose to find in these relations will\nhardly be convincing to a reasonable mind. The duties of man towards\nthese beings can, according to their own shewing, have no other\nfoundation than the happiness he expects from them: thus the relation\nhas a reciprocity, it is founded upon their goodness, upon their\njustice, it demands obedience on his part, a conduct suitable to the\nbenefits he receives. Thus, in whatever manner the theological system\nis viewed, it destroys itself. Will theology never feel that the more\nit endeavours to exaggerate the human qualities, the less it exalts the\nbeings it pictures; the more incomprehensible it renders them, the more\nit contributes to swell its own ocean of contradictions; that to take\nhuman passions, mortal faculties at all, is perhaps the worst means it\ncan pursue to form a perfect being; but that if it must persist in this\nmethod, then the further they remove them from man, the more they debase\nhim, the more they weaken the relations subsisting between them: that\nin thus aggregating human properties, it should carefully abstain from\nassociating in these pictures those qualities which man finds detestable\nin his fellows. Thus, despotism in man is looked upon as an unjust,\nunreasonable power; if it introduces such a quality into its portraits,\nit cannot rationally suppose them suitable to cultivate the esteem, to\nattract the voluntary homage of the human race: if, however, the canvas\nbe examined, we shall frequently be struck, with perceiving this the\nleading feature; we shall equally find a want of keeping through the\nwhole; that shadows are introduced, where lights ought to prevail; that\nthe colouring is incongruous--the design without harmony.\n\nThe discrepancy of conduct which theology imputes to these idols, is not\nless remarkable than the contrariety of qualities it ascribes to\nthem, or the inconsistency of the passions with which it invests them;\nsometimes, according to this, they are the friends to reason, desirous\nof the happiness of society; sometimes they are inimical to virtue;\ninterdict the use of reason; flattered with seeing society disturbed,\nthey sometimes afflict man without his being able to guess the cause of\ntheir displeasure; sometimes they are favourable to mankind--at others,\nindisposed towards the human species: sometimes they are represented as\npermitting crimes for the pleasure of punishing them--at others, they\nexert all their power to arrest crime in its birth; sometimes they elect\na small number to receive eternal happiness, predestinating the rest to\nperpetual misery--to everlasting torments; at others, they throw open\nthe gates of mercy to all who choose to enter them; sometimes they are\npourtrayed as destroying the universe--at others, as establishing the\nmost beautiful order in the planet we inhabit; sometimes they are held\nforth as countenancing deception--at others, as having the highest\nreverence for truth--as holding deceit in abomination. This, again, is\nthe necessary result of the human faculties, the mortal passions, the\nfrail qualities of which they compose the beings they hold forth to the\nadmiration, to the worship, to the homage of the world.\n\nPerhaps the most fatal consequences have arisen from founding the moral\ncharacter of these divinities upon that of man. Those who first had the\nconfidence to tell man that in these matters it was not permitted him\nto consult his reason, that the interests of society demanded its\nsacrifice, evidently proposed to themselves to make him the sport of\ntheir own wantonness--to make him the blind instrument of their own\nunworthiness. It is from this radical error that has sprung all those\nextravagances which the various superstitions have introduced upon\nthe earth: from hence has flowed that sacred fury which has frequently\ndeluged it with blood: here is the cause of those inhuman persecutions\nwhich have so often desolated nations: in short, all those horrid\ntragedies which have been acted on the vast theatre of the world, by\ncommand of the different ministers of the various systems, whose gods\nthey have said ordained these shocking spectacles.\n\nThe theologians themselves have thus been the means, of calumniating\nthe gods they pretended to serve, under the pretext of exalting their\nname--of covering them with glory; in this they may have been said to be\ntrue atheists, since they seem only to have been anxious to destroy the\nidols they themselves had raised, by the actions they have attributed\nto them--which has debased them in the eye of reason--rendered their\nexistence more than doubtful to the man of humanity. Indeed, it would\nrequire more than human credulity to accredit the assertion that these\nbeings ever could order the atrocities committed in their name. Every\ntime they have been willing to disturb the harmony of mankind--whenever\nthey have been desirous to render him unsociable, they have cried out\nthat their gods ordained that he should be so. Thus they render mortals\nuncertain, make the ethical system fluctuate by founding it upon\nchangeable, capricious idols, whom they represent much more frequently\ncruel and unjust, than filled with bounty and benevolence.\n\nHowever it may be, admitting if they will for a moment that their idols\npossess all the human virtues in an infinite degree of perfection, we\nshall quickly be obliged to acknowledge that they cannot connect them\nwith those metaphysical, theological, negative attributes, of which we\nhave already spoken. If these beings are spirits that are immaterial,\nhow can they be able to act like man, who is a corporeal being? Pure\nspirits, according to the only idea man can form of them, having no\norgans, no parts, cannot see any thing; can neither hear our prayers,\nattend to our solicitations, nor have compassion for our miseries.\nThey cannot be immutable, if their dispositions can suffer change: they\ncannot be infinite, if the totality of nature, without being them, can\nexist conjointly with them: they cannot be omnipotent, if they either\npermit or do not prevent evil: they cannot be omnipresent, if they are\nnot every where: they must therefore be in the evil as well as in the\ngood. Thus in whatever manner they are contemplated, under whatever\npoint of view they are considered, the human qualities which are\nassigned to them, necessarily destroy each other; neither can these\nsame properties in any possible manner combine themselves with the\nsupernatural attributes given to them by theology.\n\nWith respect to the revealed will of these idols, by means of\ntheir oracles, far from being a proof of their good will, of their\ncommisseration for man, it would rather seem evidence of their ill-will.\nIt supposes them capable of leaving mankind for a considerable season\nunacquainted with truths highly important to their interests; these\noracles communicated to a small number of chosen men, are indicative of\npartiality, of predilections, that are but little compatible with the\ncommon Father of the human race. These oracles were ill imagined,\nsince they tend to injure the immutability ascribed to these idols, by\nsupposing that they permitted man to be ignorant at one time of their\nwill, whilst at another time they were willing he should be instructed\non the subject. Moreover, these oracles frequently predicted offences\nfor which afterwards severe punishments were inflicted on those who did\nno more than fulfil them. This, according to the reasoning of man, would\nbe unjust. The ambiguous language in which they were delivered, the\nalmost impossibility of comprehending them, the inexplicable mysteries\nthey contained, seemed to render them doubtful; at least they are\nnot consistent with the ideas man is capable of forming of infinite\nperfection: but the fact clearly is, they were thus rendered capable of\napplication to the contingency of events--could be made to suit\nalmost any circumstances: this would render it not a very improbable\nconjecture, that these oracles were solely delivered by the priests\nthemselves. It these were tried by the only test of which he has any\nknowledge--HIS REASON, it would naturally occur to the mind of man, that\nmystery could never, on any occasion, be used in the promulgation of\nsubstantive decrees meant to operate on the obedience, to actuate the\nmoral conduct of man: it is quite usual with most legislators to\nrender their laws as explicit as possible, to adapt them to the meanest\nunderstanding; in short, it would be reckoned want of good faith in a\ngovernment, to throw a thick, mysterious veil over the announcement of\nthat conduct which it wished its citizens to adopt; they would be apt\nto think such a procedure was either meant to cover its own peculiar\nignorance, or else to entrap them into a snare; at best, it would be\nconsidered as furnishing a never-failing source of dispute, which a wise\ngovernment would endeavour to avoid.\n\nIt will thus be obvious, that the ideas which theology has at various\ntimes, under various systems, held forth to man, have for the most part\nbeen confused, discordant, incompatible, and have had a general tendency\nto disturb the repose of mankind. The obscure notions, the vague\nspeculations of these multiplied creeds, would be matter of great\nindifference, if man was not taught to hold them as highly important\nto his welfare--if he did not draw from them conclusions pernicious to\nhimself--if he did not learn from these theologians that he must sharpen\nhis asperity against those who do not contemplate them in the same point\nof view with himself: as he perhaps, then, will never have a common\nstandard, a fixed rule, a regular graduated scale, whereby to form\nhis judgment on these points--as all efforts of the imagination must\nnecessarily assume divers shapes, undergo a variety of modifications,\nwhich can never be assimilated to each other, it was little likely that\nmankind would at all times be able to understand each other on this\nsubject; much less that they would be in accord in the opinions they\nshould adopt. From hence that diversity of superstitions which in\nall ages have given rise to the most irrational disputes; which\nhave engendered the most sanguinary wars; which have caused the most\nbarbarous massacres; which have divided man from his fellow by the most\nrancorous animosities, that will perhaps never be healed; because he has\nbeen impelled to consider the peculiar tenets he adopted, not only as\nimmediately essential to his individual welfare, but also as intimately\nconnected with the happiness, closely interwoven with the tranquillity\nof the nation of which he was a citizen. That such contrariety of\nsentiment, such discrepancy of opinion should exist, is not in the least\nsurprising; it is, in fact, the natural result of those physical causes\nto which, as long as he exists, he is at all times submitted. The man\nof a heated imagination cannot accommodate himself to the god of a\nphlegmatic, tranquil being: the infirm, bilious, discontented, angry\nmortal, cannot view him under the same aspect as he who enjoys a sounder\nconstitution,--as the individual of a gay turn, who enjoys the\nblessing of content, who wishes to live in peace. An equitable, kind,\ncompassionate, tender-hearted man, will not delineate to himself\nthe same portrait of his god, as the man who is of an harsh, unjust,\ninflexible, wicked character. Each individual will modify his god after\nhis own peculiar manner of existing, after his own mode of thinking,\naccording to his particular mode of feeling. A wise, honest, rational\nman will always figure to himself his god as humane and just.\n\nNevertheless, as fear usually presided at the formation of those idols\nman set up for the object of his worship; as the ideas of these beings\nwere generally associated with that of terror as the recollections\nof sufferings, which he attributed to them, often made him tremble;\nfrequently awakened in his mind the most afflicting, reminiscence; as\nit sometimes filled him with inquietude, sometimes inflamed his\nimagination, sometimes overwhelmed him with dismay, the experience of\nall ages proves, that these vague idols became the most important of all\nconsiderations--was the affair which most seriously occupied the human\nrace: that they every where spread consternation--produced the most\nfrightful ravages, by the delirious inebriation resulting from the\nopinions with which they intoxicated the mind. Indeed, it is extremely\ndifficult to prevent habitual fear, which of all human passions is the\nmost incommodious, from becoming a dangerous leaven; which in the long\nrun will sour, exasperate, and give malignancy to the most moderate\ntemperament.\n\nIf a misanthrope, in hatred of his race, had formed the project\nof throwing man into the greatest perplexity,--if a tyrant, in the\nplenitude of his unruly desire to punish, had sought out the most\nefficacious means; could either the one or the other have imagined that\nwhich was so well calculated to gratify their revenge, as thus to occupy\nhim unceasingly with objects not only unknown to him, but which no\ntwo of them should ever see with precisely the same eyes; which\nnotwithstanding they should be obliged to contemplate as the centre of\nall their thoughts--as the only model of their conduct--as the end of\nall their actions--as the subject of all their research--as a thing of\nmore importance to them than life itself; upon which all their present\nfelicity, all their future happiness, must necessarily depend? Could the\ngods themselves, in their solicitude to punish the impious Prometheus,\nfor having stolen fire from the sun, have imagined a more certain method\nof executing their wishes? Was not Pandora's box, though stuffed with\nevils, trifling when compared with this? That at least left hope, to the\nunfortunate Epimetheus; this effectually cut it off.\n\nIf man was subjected to an absolute monarch, to a sultan who should keep\nhimself secluded from his subjects; who followed no rule but his own\ndesires; who did not feel himself bound by any duty; who could for ever\npunish the offences committed against him; whose fury it was easy\nto provoke; who was irritated even by the ideas, the thoughts of his\nsubjects; whose displeasure might be incurred without even their own\nknowledge; the name of such a sovereign would assuredly be sufficient to\ncarry trouble, to spread terror, to diffuse consternation into the very\nsouls of those who should hear it pronounced; his idea would haunt them\nevery where--would unceasingly afflict them--would plunge them into\ndespair. What tortures would not their mind endure to discover this\nformidable being, to ascertain the secret of pleasing him! What labour\nwould not their imagination bestow, to discover what mode of conduct\nmight be able to disarm his anger! What fears would assail them, lest\nthey might not have justly hit upon the means of assuaging his wrath!\nWhat disputes would they not enter into upon the nature, the qualities\nof a ruler, equally unknown to them all! What a variety of means would\nnot be adopted, to find favour in his eyes; to avert his chastisement!\n\nSuch is the history of the effects superstition has produced upon the\nearth. Man has always been panic-struck, because the systems adopted\nnever enable him to form any correct opinion, any fixed ideas, upon\na subject so material to his happiness; because every thing conspired\neither to give his ideas a fallacious turn, or else to keep his mind in\nthe most profound ignorance; when he was willing to set himself\nright, when he was sedulous to examine the path which conducted to his\nfelicity, when he was desirous of probing opinions so consequential to\nhis peace, involving so much mystery, yet combining both his hopes\nand his fears, he was forbidden to employ the only proper method,--HIS\nREASON, guided by his experience; he was assured this would be an\noffence the most indelible. If he asked, Wherefore his reason had then\nbeen given him, since he was not to use it in matters of such high\nbehest? he was answered, those were mysteries of which none but the\ninitiated could be informed; that it sufficed for him to know, that\nthe reason which he seemed so highly to prize, which he held in so\nmuch esteem, was his most dangerous enemy--his most inveterate, most\ndetermined foe. Where can be the propriety of such an argument? Can it\nreally be that reason is dangerous? If so, the Turks are justified in\ntheir predilection for madmen: but to proceed, he is told that he must\nbelieve in the gods, not question the mission of their priests; in\nshort, that he had nothing to do with the laws they imposed, but to\nobey them: when he then required that these laws might at least be\nmade comprehensible to him; that he might be placed in a capacity\nto understand them; the old answer was returned, that they were\n_mysteries_; he must not inquire into them. But where is the necessity\nfor mystery in points of such vast importance? He might, indeed,\nfrom time to time consult these oracles, when he was able to make the\nsacrifices demanded; he would then receive precepts for his conduct:\nthese were always, however, given in such vague, indeterminate terms,\nthat he had scarcely the chance of acting right. At different times the\nsame oracles delivered different opinions: thus he had nothing, steady;\nnothing permanent, whereby to guide his steps; like a blind man left to\nhimself in the streets, he was obliged to grope his way at the peril of\nhis existence. This will serve to shew the urgent necessity there is\nfor truth to throw its radiant lustre on systems big with so much\nimportance; that are so calculated to corroborate the animosities,\nto confirm the bitterness of soul, between those whom nature intended\nshould always act as brothers.\n\nBy the magical charms with which these idols were surrounded, the human\nspecies has remained either as if it was benumbed, in a state of stupid\napathy, or else he has become furious with fanaticism: sometimes,\ndesponding with fear, man cringed like a slave who bends under the\nscourge of an inexorable master, always ready to strike him; he trembled\nunder a yoke made too ponderous for his strength: he lived in continual\ndread of a vengeance he was unceasingly striving to appease, without\never knowing when he had succeeded: as he was always bathed in tears,\ncontinually enveloped in misery--as he was never permitted to lose sight\nof his fears--as he was continually exhorted to nourish his alarm, he\ncould neither labour for his own happiness nor contribute to that of\nothers; nothing could exhilirate him; he became the enemy of himself,\nthe persecutor of his fellow-creatures, because his felicity here below\nwas interdicted; he passed his time in heaving the most bitter sighs;\nhis reason being forbidden him, he fell into either a state of infancy\nor delirium, which submitted him to authority; he was destined to this\nservitude from the hour he quitted his mother's womb, until that in\nwhich he was returned to his kindred dust; tyrannical opinion bound him\nfast in her massive fetters; a prey to the terrors with which he was\ninspired, he appeared to have come upon the earth for no other purpose\nthan to dream--with no other desire than to groan--with no other motives\nthan to sigh; his only view seemed to be to injure himself; to deprive\nhimself of every rational pleasure, to embitter his own existence; to\ndisturb the felicity of others. Thus, abject, slothful, irrational, he\nfrequently became wicked, under the idea of doing honour to his gods;\nbecause they instilled into his mind that it was his duty to avenge\ntheir cause, to sustain their honour, to propagate their worship.\n\nMortals were prostrate from race to race, before vain idols to which\nfear had given birth in the bosom of ignorance, during the calamities of\nthe earth; they tremblingly adored phantoms which credulity had placed\nin the recesses of their own brain, where they found a sanctuary which\ntime only served to strengthen; nothing could undeceive them; nothing\nwas competent to make them feel, it was themselves they adored--that\nthey bent the knee before their own work--that they terrified themselves\nwith the extravagant pictures they had themselves delineated; they\nobstinately persisted in prostrating themselves, in perplexing\nthemselves, in trembling; they even made a crime of endeavouring to\ndissipate their fears; they mistook the production of their own folly;\ntheir conduct resembled that of children, who having disfigured their\nown features, become afraid of themselves when a mirror reflects the\nextravagance they have committed. These notions so afflicting for\nthemselves, so grievous to others, have their epoch from the calamities\nof man; they will continue, perhaps augment, until their mind,\nenlightened by discarded reason, illumined by truth, shall set in\ntheir true colours these various systems; until reflection guided by\nexperience, shall attach no more importance to them, than is consistent\nwith the happiness of society; until man, bursting the chains of\nsuperstition--recalling to mind the great end of his existence--taking\na rational view of that which surrounds him, shall no longer refuse to\ncontemplate nature under her true character; shall no longer persist in\nrefusing to acknowledge she contains within herself the cause of that\nwonderful phenomena which strikes on the dazzled optics of man: until\nthoroughly persuaded of the weakness of their claim to the homage of\nmankind, he shall make one pious, simultaneous, mighty effort, and\n_overthrow the altars of Moloch and his priests_.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. IV.\n\n_Examination of the Proofs of the Existence of the Divinity, as given by\nCLARKE._\n\n\nThe unanimity of man in acknowledging the Divinity, is commonly looked\nupon as the strongest proof of his existence. There is not, it is said,\nany people on the earth who have not some ideas, whether true or false,\nof an all-powerful agent who governs the world. The rudest savages\nas well as the most polished nations, are equally obliged to recur\nby thought to the first cause of every thing that exists; thus it\nis affirmed, the cry of Nature herself ought to convince us of the\nexistence of the Godhead, of which she has taken pains to engrave the\nnotion in the minds of men: they therefore conclude, that the idea of\nGod is innate.\n\nPerhaps there is nothing of which man should be more sedulously careful\nthan permitting a promiscuous assemblage of right with wrong--of\nsuffering false conclusions to be drawn from true propositions;\nthis will not improbably be found to be pretty much the case in this\ninstance; the existence of the great _Cause of causes_, the _Parent of\nparents_, does not, I think, admit of any doubt in the mind of any\none who has reasoned: but, if this existence did not rest upon better\nfoundations than the unanimity of man on this subject, I am fearful\nit would not be placed upon so solid a rock as those who make this\nasseveration may imagine: the fact is, man is not generally agreed upon\nthis point; if he was, superstition could have no existence; the idea\nof God cannot be _innate_, because, independent of the proofs offered on\nevery side of the almost impossibility of innate ideas, one simple fact\nwill set such an opinion for ever at rest, except with those who are\nobstinately determined not to be convinced by even their own arguments:\nif this idea was innate, it must be every where the same; seeing that\nthat which is antecedent to man's being, cannot have experienced the\nmodifications of his existence, which are posterior. Even if it were\nwaived, that the same idea should be expected from all mankind, but\nthat only every nation should have their ideas alike on this subject,\nexperience will not warrant the assertion, since nothing can be better\nestablished than that the idea is not uniform even in the same town;\nnow this would be an insuperable quality in an innate idea. It not\nunfrequently happens, that in the endeavour to prove too much, that\nwhich stood firm before the attempt, is weakened; thus a bad advocate\nfrequently injures a good cause, although he may not be able to overturn\nthe rights on which it is rested. It would, therefore, perhaps, come\nnearer to the point if it was said, \"that the natural curiosity of\nmankind have in all ages, and in all nations, led him to seek after the\nprimary cause of the phenomena he beholds; that owing to the variations\nof his climate, to the difference of his organization, the greater\nor less calamity he has experienced, the variety of his intellectual\nfaculties, and the circumstances under which he has been placed, man\nhas had the most opposite, contradictory, extravagant notions of the\nDivinity, but that he has uniformly been in accord in acknowledging both\nthe existence, and the wisdom of his work--NATURE.\"\n\nIf disengaged from prejudice, we analyze this proof, we shall see that\nthe universal consent of man, so diffused over the earth, actually\nproves little more than that he has been in all countries exposed to\nfrightful revolutions, experienced disasters, been sensible to sorrows\nof which he has mistaken the physical causes; that those events to which\nhe has been either the victim or the witness, have called forth his\nadmiration or excited his fear; that for want of being acquainted with\nthe powers of nature, for want of understanding her laws, for want of\ncomprehending her infinite resources, for want of knowing the effects\nshe must necessarily produce under given circumstances, he has believed\nthese phenomena were due to some secret agent of which he has had vague\nideas--to beings whom he has supposed conducted themselves after his own\nmanner; who were operated upon by similar motives with himself.\n\nThe consent then of man in acknowledging a variety of gods, proves\nnothing, except that in the bosom of ignorance he has either admired\nthe phenomena of nature, or trembled under their influence; that his\nimagination was disturbed by what he beheld or suffered; that he has\nsought in vain to relieve his perplexity, upon the unknown cause of\nthe phenomena he witnessed, which frequently obliged him to quake with\nterror: the imagination of the human race has laboured variously upon\nthese causes, which have almost always been incomprehensible to him;\nalthough every thing confessed his ignorance, his inability to define\nthese causes, yet he maintained that he was assured of their existence;\nwhen pressed, he spoke of a spirit, (a word to which it was impossible\nto attach any determinate idea) which taught nothing but the sloth,\nwhich evidenced nothing but the stupidity of those who pronounced it.\n\nIt ought, however, not to excite any surprise that man is incapable of\nforming any substantive ideas, save of those things which act, or which\nhave heretofore acted upon his senses; it is very evident that the\nonly objects competent to move his organs are material,--that none but\nphysical beings can furnish him with ideas,--a truth which has been\nrendered sufficiently clear in the commencement of this work, not to\nneed any further proof. It will suffice therefore to say that the idea\nof God is not an innate, but an acquired notion; that it is the very\nnature of this notion to vary from age to age; to differ in one country\nfrom another; to be viewed variously by individuals. What do I say?\nIt is, in fact, an idea hardly ever constant in the same mortal. This\ndiversity, this fluctuation, this change, stamps it with the true\ncharacter of an acquired opinion. On the other hand, the strongest proof\nthat can be adduced that these ideas are founded in error, is, that man\nby degrees has arrived at perfectioning all the sciences which have any\nknown objects for their basis, whilst the science of theology has not\nadvanced; it is almost every where at the same point; men seem equally\nundecided on this subject; those who have most occupied themselves with\nit, have effected but little; they seem, indeed, rather to have rendered\nthe primitive ideas man formed to himself on this head more obscure,--to\nhave involved in greater mystery all his original opinions.\n\nAs soon as it is asked of man, what are the gods before whom he\nprostrates himself, forthwith his sentiments are divided. In order that\nhis opinions should be in accord, it would be requisite that uniform\nideas, analogous sensations, unvaried perceptions, should every where\nhave given birth to his notions upon this subject: but this would\nsuppose organs perfectly similar, modified by sensations which have\na perfect affinity: this is what could not happen: because man,\nessentially different by his temperament, who is found under\ncircumstances completely dissimilar, must necessarily have a great\ndiversity of ideas upon objects which each individual contemplates so\nvariously. Agreed in some general points, each made himself a god after\nhis own manner; he feared him, he served him, after his own mode. Thus\nthe god of one man, or of one nation, was hardly ever that of another\nman, or of another nation. The god of a savage, unpolished people, is\ncommonly some material object, upon which the mind has exercised itself\nbut little; this god appears very ridiculous in the eyes of a more\npolished community, whose minds have laboured more intensely upon the\nsubject. A spiritual god, whose adorers despise the worship paid by the\nsavage to a coarse, material object, is the subtle production of the\nbrain of thinkers, who, lolling in the lap of polished society quite at\ntheir leisure, have deeply meditated, have long occupied themselves\nwith the subject. The theological god, although for the most part\nincomprehensible, is the last effort of the human imagination; it is to\nthe god of the savage, what an inhabitant of the city of Sybaris, where\neffiminacy and luxury reigned, where pomp and pageantry had reached\ntheir climax, clothed with a curiously embroidered purple habit of silk,\nwas to a man either quite naked, or simply covered with the skin of\na beast perhaps newly slain. It is only in civilized societies, that\nleisure affords the opportunity of dreaming--that ease procures the\nfacility of reasoning; in these associations, idle speculators meditate,\ndispute, form metaphysics: the faculty of thought is almost void in the\nsavage, who is occupied either with hunting, with fishing, or with\nthe means of procuring a very precarious subsistence by dint of almost\nincessant labour. The generality of men, however, have not more elevated\nnotions of the divinity, have not analyzed him more than the savage. A\nspiritual, immaterial God, is formed only to occupy the leisure of some\nsubtle men, who have no occasion to labour for a subsistence. Theology,\nalthough a science so much vaunted, considered so important to the\ninterests of man, is only useful to those who live at the expense of\nothers; or of those who arrogate to themselves the privilege of thinking\nfor all those who labour. This science becomes, in some polished\nsocieties, who are not on that account more enlightened, a branch of\ncommerce extremely advantageous to its professors; equally unprofitable\nto the citizens; above all when these have the folly to take a very\ndecided interest in their unintelligible system--in their discordant\nopinions.\n\nWhat an infinite distance between an unformed stone, an animal, a star,\na statue, and the abstracted Deity, which theology hath clothed with\nattributes under which it loses sight of him itself! The savage without\ndoubt deceives himself in the object to which he addresses his vows;\nlike a child he is smitten with the first object that strikes his\nsight--that operates upon him in a lively manner; like the infant, his\nfears are alarmed by that from which he conceives he has either\nreceived an injury or suffered disgrace; still his ideas are fixed by a\nsubstantive being, by an object which he can examine by his senses. The\nLaplander who adores a rock,--the negro who prostrates himself before\na monstrous serpent, at least see the objects they adore. The idolater\nfalls upon his knees before a statue, in which he believes there resides\nsome concealed virtue, some powerful quality, which he judges may be\neither useful or prejudicial to himself; but that subtle reasoner,\ncalled a metaphysician, who in consequence of his unintelligible\nscience, believes he has a right to laugh at the savage, to deride the\nLaplander, to scoff at the negro, to ridicule the idolater, doth\nnot perceive that he is himself prostrate before a being of his own\nimagination, of which it is impossible he should form to himself any\ncorrect idea, unless, like the savage, he re-enters into visible nature,\nto clothe him with qualities capable of being brought within the range\nof his comprehension.\n\nFor the most part the notions on the Divinity, which obtain credit even\nat the present day, are nothing more than a general terror diversely\nacquired, variously modified in the mind of nations, which do not\ntend to prove any thing, save that they have received them from their\ntrembling, ignorant ancestors. These gods have been successively\naltered, decorated, subtilized, by those thinkers, those legislators,\nthose priests, who have meditated deeply upon them; who have prescribed\nsystems of worship to the uninformed; who have availed themselves\nof their existing prejudices, to submit them to their yoke; who have\nobtained a dominion over their mind, by seizing on their credulity,--by\nmaking them participate in their errors,--by working on their fears;\nthese dispositions will always be a necessary consequence of man's\nignorance, when steeped in the sorrows of his heart.\n\nIf it be true, as asserted, that the earth has never witnessed any\nnation so unsociable, so savage, to be without some form of religious\nworship--who did not adore some god--but little will result from it\nrespecting the Divinity. The word GOD, will rarely be found to designate\nmore than the unknown cause of those effects which man has either\nadmired or dreaded. Thus, this notion so generally diffused, upon which\nso much stress is laid; will prove little more than that man in all\ngenerations has been ignorant of natural causes,--that he has been\nincompetent, from some cause or other, to account for those phenomena\nwhich either excited his surprise or roused his fears. If at the present\nday a people cannot be found destitute of some kind of worship, entirely\nwithout superstition, who do not acknowledge a God, who have not adopted\na theology more or less subtle, it is because the uninformed ancestors\nof these people have all endured misfortunes--have been alarmed by\nterrifying effects, which they have attributed to unknown causes--have\nbeheld strange sights, which they have ascribed to powerful agents,\nwhose existence they could not fathom; the details of which, together\nwith their own bewildered notions, they have handed down to their\nposterity who have not given them any kind of examination.\n\nIt will readily be allowed, that the universality of an opinion by\nno means proves its truth. Do we not see a great number of ignorant\nprejudices, a multitude of barbarous errors, even at the present day,\nreceive the almost universal sanction of the human race? Are not nearly\nall the inhabitants of the earth imbued with the idea of magic--in the\nhabit of acknowledging occult powers--given to divination--believers in\nenchantment--the slaves to omens--supporters of witchcraft--thoroughly\npersuaded of the existence of ghosts? If some of the most enlightened\npersons are cured of these follies, they still find very zealous\npartizans in the greater number of mankind, who accredit them with the\nfirmest confidence. It would not, however, be concluded by men of sound\nsense, in many instances not by the theologian himself, that therefore\nthese chimeras actually have existence, although sanctioned with the\ncredence of the multitude. Before Copernicus, there was no one who did\nnot believe that the earth was stationary, that the sun described his\nannual revolution round it. Was, however, this universal consent of\nman upon a principle of astronomical science, which endured for so many\nthousand years, less an error on that account? Yet to have doubted the\ntruth of such a generally-diffused opinion, one that had received\nthe sanction of so many learned men--that was clothed with the sacred\nvestments of so many ages of credulity--that had been adopted by Moses,\nacknowledged by Solomon, accredited by the Persian magi--that Elijah\nhimself had not refuted--that had obtained the fiat of the most\nrespectable universities, the most enlightened legislators, the wisest\nkings, the most eloquent ministers; in short, a principle that embraced\nall the stability that could be derived from the universal consent of\nall ranks: to have doubted, I say, of this, would at one period have\nbeen held as the highest degree of profanation, as the most presumptuous\nscepticism, as an impious blasphemy, that would have threatened the very\nexistence of that unhappy country from whose unfortunate bosom such a\nvenomous, sacrilegious mortal could have arisen. It is well known what\nopinion was entertained of Gallileo for maintaining the existence of the\nantipodes. Pope Gregory excommunicated as atheists all those who gave it\ncredit. Thus each man has his God: But do all these gods exist? In reply\nit will be said, somewhat triumphantly, each man hath his ideas of the\nsun, do all these suns exist? However narrow may be the pass by which\nsuperstition imagines it has thus guarded its favourite hypothesis,\nnothing will perhaps be more easy than the answer: the existence of the\nsun is a fact verified by the daily use of the senses; all the world see\nthe sun; no one bath ever said there is no sun; nearly all mankind have\nacknowledged it to be both luminous and hot: however various may be the\nopinions of man, upon this luminary, no one has ever yet pretended there\nwas more than one attached to our planetary system. But we may\nperhaps be told, there is a wide difference between that which can be\ncontemplated by the visual organs, which can be understood by the sense\nof feeling, and that which does not come under the cognizance of any\npart of the organic structure of man. We must confess theology here\nhas the advantage; that we are unable to follow it through its devious\nsinuosities; amidst its meandering labyrinths: but then it is the\nadvantage of those who see sounds, over those who only hear them; of\nthose who hear colours, over those who only see them; of the professors\nof a science, where every thing is built upon laws inverted from those\ncommon to the globe we inhabit; over those common understandings, who\ncannot be sensible to any thing that does not give an impulse to some of\ntheir organs.\n\nIf man, therefore, had the courage to throw aside his prejudices, which\nevery thing conspires to render as durable as himself--if divested\nof fear he would examine coolly--if guided by reason he would\ndispassionately view the nature of things, the evidence adduced\nin support of any given doctrine; he would, at least, be under\nthe necessity to acknowledge, that the idea of the Divinity is not\ninnate--that it is not anterior to his existence--that it is\nthe production of time, acquired by communication with his own\nspecies--that, consequently, there was a period when it did not actually\nexist in him: he would see clearly, that he holds it by tradition from\nthose who reared him: that these themselves received it from their\nancestors: that thus tracing it up, it will be found to have been\nderived in the last resort, from ignorant savages, who were our first\nfathers. The history of the world will shew that crafty legislators,\nambitious tyrants, blood-stained conquerors, have availed themselves of\nthe ignorance, the fears, the credulity of his progenitors, to turn\nto their own profit an idea to which they rarely attached any other\nsubstantive meaning than that of submitting them to the yoke of their\nown domination.\n\nWithout doubt there have been mortals who have dreamed they have seen\nthe Divinity. Mahomet, I believe, boasted he had a long conversation\nwith the Deity, who promulgated to him the system of the Mussulmans. But\nare there not thousands, even of the theologians, who will exhaust their\nbreath, and fatigue their lungs with vociferating this man was a liar;\nwhose object was to take advantage of the simplicity, to profit by the\nenthusiasm, to impose on the credulity of the Arabs; who promulgated\nfor truths, the crazy reveries of his own distempered imagination?\nNevertheless, is it not a truth, that this doctrine of the crafty Arab,\nis at this day the creed of millions, transmitted to them by their\nancestors, rendered sacred by time, read to them in their mosques,\nadorned with all the ceremonies of superstitious worship; of which the\ninhabitants of a vast portion of the earth do not permit themselves for\nan instant to doubt the veracity; who, on the contrary, hold those who\ndo not accredit it as dogs, as infidels, as beings of an inferior rank,\nof meaner capacities than themselves? Indeed that man, even if he were\na theologian, would not experience the most gentle treatment from the\ninfuriated Mahometan, who should to his face venture to dispute the\ndivine mission of his prophet. Thus the ancestors of the Turk have\ntransmitted to their posterity, those ideas of the Divinity which they\nmanifestly received from those who deceived them; whose impositions,\nmodified from age to age, subtilized by the priests, clothed with\nthe reverential awe inspired by fear, have by degrees acquired that\nsolidity, received that corroboration, attained that veteran stability,\nwhich is the natural result of public sanction, backed by theological\nparade.\n\nThe word God is, perhaps, among the first that vibrate on the ear of\nman; it is reiterated to him incessantly; he is taught to lisp it\nwith respect; to listen to it with fear; to bend the knee when it is\nreverberated: by dint of repetition, by listening to the fables of\nantiquity, by hearing it pronounced by all ranks and persuasions, he\nseriously believes all men bring the idea with them into the world; he\nthus confounds a mechanical habit with instinct; whilst it is for want\nof being able to recal to himself the first circumstances under which\nhis imagination was awakened by this name; for want of recollecting all\nthe recitals made to him during the course of his infancy; for want of\naccurately defining what was instilled into him by his education; in\nshort, because his memory does not furnish him with the succession of\ncauses that have engraven it on his brain, that he believes this idea\nis really inherent to his being; innate in all his species. Iamblicus,\nindeed, who was a Pythagorean philosopher not in the highest repute\nwith the learned world, although one of those visionary priests in some\nestimation with theologians, (at least if we may venture to judge by the\nunlimited draughts they have made on the bank of his doctrines) who\nwas unquestionably a favourite with the emperor Julian, says, \"that\nanteriorly to all use of reason, the notion of the gods is inspired\nby nature, and that we have even a sort of feeling of the Divinity,\npreferable to the knowledge of him.\" It is, however, uniformly by habit,\nthat man admires, that he fears a being, whose name he has attended to\nfrom his earliest infancy. As soon as he hears it uttered, he without\nreflection mechanically associates it with those ideas with which\nhis imagination has been filled by the recitals of others; with those\nsensations which he has been instructed to accompany it. Thus, if for a\nseason man would be ingenuous with himself, he would concede that in\nthe greater number of his race, the ideas of the gods, and of those\nattributes with which they are clothed, have their foundation,\ntake their rise in, are the fruit of the opinions of his fathers,\ntraditionally infused into him by education--confirmed by\nhabit--corroborated by example--enforced by authority. That it very\nrarely happens he examines these ideas; that they are for the most part\nadopted by inexperience, propagated by tuition, rendered sacred by time,\ninviolable from respect to his progenitors, reverenced as forming part\nof those institutions he has most learned to value. He thinks he has\nalways had them, because he has had them from his infancy; he\nconsiders them indubitable, because he is never permitted to question\nthem--because he never has the intrepidity to examine their basis.\n\nIf it had been the destiny of a Brachman, or a Mussulman, to have drawn\nhis first breath on the shores of Africa, he would adore, with as much\nsimplicity, with as much fervour, the serpent reverenced by the Negroes,\nas he does the God his own metaphysicians have offered to his reverence.\nHe would be equally indignant if any one should presumptuously dispute\nthe divinity of this reptile, which he would have learned to venerate\nfrom the moment he quitted the womb of his mother, as the most zealous,\nenthusiastic fakir, when the marvellous wonders of his prophet should\nbe brought into question; or as the most subtile theologian when\nthe inquiry turned upon the incongruous qualities with which he has\ndecorated his gods. Nevertheless, if this serpent god of the Negro\nshould be contested, they could not at least dispute his existence.\nSimple as may be the mind of this dark son of nature, uncommon as may\nbe the qualities with which he has clothed his reptile, he still may be\nevidenced by all who choose to exercise their organs of sight; not so\nwith the theologian; he absolutely questions the existence of every\nother god but that which he himself has formed; which is questioned in\nits turn by his brother metaphysician. They are by no means disposed to\nadmit the proofs offered by each other. Descartes, Paschal, and Doctor\nSamuel Clarke himself, have been accused of atheism by the theologians\nof their time. Subsequent reasoners have made use of their proofs, and\neven given them as extremely valid. Doctor Bowman published a work, in\nwhich he pretends all the proofs hitherto brought forward are crazy and\nfragile: he of course substitutes his own; which in their turn have been\nthe subject of animadversion. Thus it would appear these theologians are\nnot more in accord with themselves than they are with Turks or Pagans.\nThey cannot even agree as to their proofs of existence: from age to\nage new champions arise, new evidence is adduced, the old discarded, or\ntreated with contempt; profound philosophers, subtle metaphysicians, are\ncontinually attacking each other for their ignorance on a point of the\nvery first importance. Amidst this variety of discussion, it is very\ndifficult for simple winds, for those who steadily search after truth,\nwho only wish to understand what they believe, to find a point upon\nwhich they can fix with reliance--a standard round which they may rally\nwithout fear of danger--a common measure that way serve them for a\nbeacon to avoid the quicksands of delusion--the sophistry of polemics.\n\nMen of very great genius have successively miscarried in their\ndemonstrations; have been held to have betrayed their cause by the\nweakness of the arguments by which they have supported it; by the manner\nin which they have attempted to establish their positions. Thus many\nof them, when they believed they had surmounted a difficulty, had the\nmortification to find they had only given birth to an hundred others.\nThey seem, indeed, not to be in a capacity to understand each other,\nor to agree among themselves, when they reason upon the nature and\nqualities of beings created by such a variety of imaginations, which\neach contemplates diversely, upon which the natural self-love of each\ndisputant induces him to reject with vehement indignation every thing\nthat does not fall in with his own peculiar mode of thinking--that does\nnot quadrate either with his superstition or his ignorance, or sometimes\nwith both.\n\nThe opponents of Clarke charge him with begging the question in his work\non _The Being and Attributes of God_. They say he has pretended to prove\nthis existence _a priori_, which they deem impossible, seeing there is\nnothing anterior to the first of causes; that therefore it can only\nbe proved _a posteriori_, that is to say, by its effects. Law, in his\n_Inquiry into the Ideas of Space, Time, Immensity, &c_. has attacked him\nvery triumphantly, for this manner of proof, which is stated to be so\nvery repugnant to the school-men. His arguments have been treated with\nno more ceremony by Thomas D'Aquinas, John Scott, and others of the\nschools. At the present day I believe he is held in more respect--that\nhis authority outweighs that of all his antagonists together. Be that as\nit may, those who have followed him have done nothing more than either\nrepeat his ideas, or present his evidence under a new form. Tillotson\nargues at great length, but it would be rather difficult to understand\nwhich side of the question he adopts on this momentous subject; whether\nhe is a Necessitarian, or among the opposers of Fatalism. Speaking of\nman, he says, \"he is liable to many evils and miseries, which he can\nneither prevent or redress; he is full of wants, which he cannot\nsupply, and compassed about with infirmities which he cannot remove, and\nobnoxious to dangers which he can never sufficiently provide against: he\nis apt to grieve for what he cannot help, and eagerly to desire what he\nis never able to obtain.\" If the proofs of Clarke, who has drawn them up\nin twelve propositions, are examined with attention, I think they may be\nfairly shielded from the reproach with which they have been loaded;\nit does not appear that he has proved his positions _a priori,_ but _a\nposteriori,_ according to rule. It seems clear, however, that he has\nmistaken the proof of the existence of the effects, for the proof of the\nexistence of the cause: but here he seems to have more reason than his\ncritics, who in their eagerness to prove that Clarke has not conformed\nto the rules of the schools, would entirely overlook the best, the\nsurest foundation whereon to rest the existence of the _Great Cause of\ncauses,_ that _Parent of Parents_, whose wisdom shines so manifestly\nin nature, of which Clarke's work may be said to be such a masterly\nevidence. We shall follow, step by step, the different propositions\nin which this learned divine developes the received opinions upon\nthe Divinity; which, when applied to nature, will be found to be so\naccurate, so correct, as to leave no further room to doubt either the\nexistence or the wisdom of her great author, thus proved through her own\nexistence. Dr. Clarke sets out with saying:\n\n\"_1st. Something has existed from all eternity_.\"\n\nThis proposition is evident--hath no occasion for proofs. Matter has\nexisted from all eternity, its forms alone are evanescent; matter is the\ngreat engine used by nature to produce all her phenomena, or rather it\nis nature herself. We have some idea of matter, sufficient to warrant\nthe conclusion that this has always existed. First, that which exists,\nsupposes existence essential to its being. That which cannot, annihilate\nitself, exists necessarily; it is impossible to conceive that that which\ncannot cease to exist, or that which cannot annihilate itself, could\never have had a beginning. If matter cannot be annihilated, it could\nnot commence to be. Thus we say to Dr. Clarke, that it is matter, it is\nnature, acting by her own peculiar energy, of which no particle is ever\nin an absolute state of rest, which hath always existed. The various\nmaterial bodies which this nature contains often change their form,\ntheir combination, their properties, their mode of action: but their\nprinciples or elements are indestructible--have never been able to\ncommence. What this great scholar actually understands, when he makes\nthe assertion \"that an eternal duration is now actually past,\" is not\nquite so clear; yet he affirms, \"that not to believe it would be a real\nand express contradiction.\" We may, however, safely admit his argument,\n\"that when once any proposition is clearly demonstrated to, be true,\nit ought not to disturb us that there be perhaps some perplexing\ndifficulties on the other side, which merely for want of adequate ideas\nof the manner of the existence of the things demonstrated, are not\neasily to be cleared.\"\n\n_2nd, \"There has existed from eternity some one unchangeable and\nindependent Being.\"_\n\nWe may fairly inquire what is this Being? Is it independent of its own\npeculiar essence, or of those properties which constitute it such as\nit is? We shall further inquire, if this Being, whatever it may be,\ncan make the other beings which it produces, or which it moves, act\notherwise than they do, according to the properties which it has given\nthem? And in this case we shall ask, if this Being, such as it way be\nsupposed to be, does not act necessarily; if it is not obliged to employ\nindispensible means to fulfil its designs, to arrive at the end which it\neither has, or may be supposed to have in view? Then we shall say, that\nnature is obliged to act after her essence; that every thing which takes\nplace in her is necessary; but that she is independent of her forms.\n\nA man is said to be independent, when he is determined in his actions\nonly by the general causes which are accustomed to move him; he is\nequally said to be dependent on another, when he cannot act but in\nconsequence of the determination which this last gives him. A body is\ndependent on another body when it owes to it its existence, and its mode\nof action. A being existing from eternity cannot owe his existence to\nany other being; he cannot then be dependent upon him, except he owes\nhis action to him; but it is evident that an eternal or self-existent\nBeing contains in his own nature every thing that is necessary for him\nto act: then, matter being eternal, is necessarily independent in the\nsense we have explained; of course it hath no occasion for a mover upon\nwhich it ought to depend.\n\nThis eternal Being is also immutable, if by this attribute be understood\nthat he cannot change his nature; but if it be intended to infer by it\nthat he cannot change his mode of action or existence, it is without\ndoubt deceiving themselves, since even in supposing an immaterial being,\nthey would be obliged to acknowledge in him different modes of being,\ndifferent volitions, different ways of acting; particularly if he was\nnot supposed totally deprived of action, in which case he would be\nperfectly useless. Indeed it follows of course that to change his mode\nof action he must necessarily change his manner of being. From hence it\nwill be obvious, that the theologians, in making their gods immutable,\nrender them immoveable, consequently they cannot act. An immutable\nbeing, could evidently neither have successive volition, nor produce\nsuccessive action; if this being hath created matter, or given birth to\nthe universe, there must have been a time in which he was willing that\nthis matter, this universe, should exist; and this time must have been\npreceded by another time, in which he was willing that it might not yet\nexist. If God be the author of all things, as well as of the motion and\nof the combinations of matter, he is unceasingly occupied in producing\nand destroying; in consequence, he cannot be called immutable, touching\nhis mode of existing. The material world always maintains itself by\nmotion, and the continual change of its parts; the sum of the beings who\ncompose it, or of the elements which act in it, is invariably the same;\nin this sense the immutability of the universe is much more easy of\ncomprehension, much more demonstrable than that of an other being to\nwhom, they would attribute all the effects, all the mutations which take\nplace. Nature is not more to be accused of mutability, on account of the\nsuccession of its forms, than the eternal Being is by the theologians,\nby the diversity of his decrees. Here we shall be able to perceive that,\nsupposing the laws by which nature acts to be immutable, it does not\nrequire tiny of these logical distinctions to account for the changes\nthat take place: the mutation which results, is, on the contrary, a\nstriking proof of the immutability of the system which produces them;\nand completely brings mature under the range of this second proposition\nas stated by Dr. Clarke.\n\n_3dly, \"That unchangeable and independent Being which has existed\nfrom eternity without any eternal cause of its existence, must be\nself-existent, that is, necessarily existing.\"_\n\nThis proposition is merely a repetition of the first; we reply to it\nby inquiring, Why matter, which is indestructible, should not be\nself-existent? It is evident that a being who had no beginning, must be\nself-existent; if he had existed by another, he would have commenced to\nbe; consequently he would not be eternal.\n\n_4thly, \"What the substance or essence of that Being which is\nself-existent, or necessarily existing, is, we have no idea; neither is\nit at all possible for us to comprehend it.\"_\n\nDr. Clarke would perhaps have spoken more correctly if he had said\nhis essence is impossible to be known: nevertheless, we shall readily\nconcede that the essence of matter is incomprehensible, or at least that\nwe conceive it very feebly by the manner in which we are affected by it;\nbut without this we should be less able to conceive the Divinity,\nwho would then be impervious on any side. Thus it must necessarily be\nconcluded, that it is folly to argue upon it, since it is by matter\nalone we can have any knowledge of him; that is to say, by which we can\nassure ourselves of his existence,--by which we can at all guess at his\nqualities. In short we must conclude, that every thing related of the\nDivinity, either proves him material, or else proves the impossibility\nin which the human mind will always find itself, of conceiving any being\ndifferent from matter; without extent, yet omnipresent; immaterial,\nyet acting upon matter; spiritual, yet producing matter; immutable, yet\nputting every thing in activity, &c.\n\nIndeed it must be allowed that the incomprehensibility of the Divinity\ndoes not distinguish him from matter; this will not be more easy\nof comprehension when we shall associate it with a being much less\ncomprehensible than itself; we have some slender knowledge of it through\nsome of its parts. We do not certainly know the essence of any being,\nif by that word we are to understand that which constitutes its peculiar\nnature. We only know matter by the sensations, the perceptions, the\nideas which it furnishes; it is according to these that we judge it\nto be either favorable or unfavourable, following the particular\ndisposition of our organs. But when a being does not act upon any part\nof our organic structure, it does not exist for us; we cannot, without\nexhibiting folly, without betraying our ignorance, without falling into\nobscurity, either speak of its nature, or assign its qualities; our\nsenses are the only channel by which we could have formed the slightest\nidea of it; these not having received any impulse, we are, in point of\nfact, unacquainted with its existence. The incomprehensibility of the\nDivinity ought to convince man that it is a point at which he is bound\nto stop; indeed he is placed in a state of utter incapacity to proceed:\nthis, however, would not suit with those speculators who are willing to\nreason upon him continually, to shew the depth of their learning,--to\npersuade the uninformed they understand that which is incomprehensible\nto all men; by which they expect to be able to submit him to their own\nviews. Nevertheless, if the Divinity be incomprehensible, It would not\nbe straining a point beyond its tension, to conclude that a priest, or\nmetaphysician, did not comprehend him better than other men: it is not,\nperhaps, either the wisest or the surest way to become acquainted with\nhim, to represent him to ourselves, by the imagination of a theologian.\n\n_5thly, \"Though the substance, or essence of the self-existent Being, is\nin itself absolutely incomprehensible to us, yet many of the essential\nattributes of his nature are strictly demonstrable, as well as his\nexistence. Thus, in the first place, the self-existent Being must of\nnecessity be eternal.\"_\n\nThis proposition differs in nothing from the first, except Dr. Clarke\ndoes not here understand that as the self-existent Being had no\nbeginning, he can have no end. However this may be, we must ever\ninquire, Why this should not be matter? We shall further observe,\nthat matter not being capable of annihilation, exists necessarily,\nconsequently will never cease to exist; that the human mind has no means\nof conceiving how matter should originate from that which is not itself\nmatter: is it not obvious, that matter is necessary; that there is\nnothing, except its powers, its arrangement, its combinations, which are\ncontingent or evanescent? The general motion is necessary, but the\ngiven motion is not so; only during the season that the particular\ncombinations subsist, of which this motion is the consequence, or\nthe effect: we may be competent to change the direction, to either\naccelerate or retard, to suspend or arrest, a particular motion, but the\ngeneral motion can never possibly be annihilated. Man, in dying, ceases\nto live; that is to say, he no longer either walks, thinks, or acts in\nthe mode which is peculiar to human organization: but the matter which\ncomposed his body, the matter which formed his mind, does not cease to\nmove on that account: it simply becomes susceptible of another species\nof motion.\n\n_6thly, \"The self-existent Being must of necessity be infinite and\nomnipresent.\"_\n\nThe word infinite presents only a negative idea--which excludes all\nbounds: it is evident that a being who exists necessarily, who is\nindependent, cannot be limited by any thing which is out of himself;\nhe must consequently be his own limits; in this sense we may say he is\ninfinite.\n\nTouching what is said of his omnipresence, it is equally evident that\nif there be nothing exterior to this being, either there is no place in\nwhich he must not be present, or that there will be only himself and the\nvacuum. This granted, I shall inquire if matter exists; if it does\nnot at least occupy a portion of space? In this case, matter, or the\nuniverse, must exclude every other being who is not matter, from that\nplace which the material beings occupy in space. In asking whether the\ngods of the theologians be by chance the abstract being which they call\nthe vacuum or space, they will reply, no! They will further insist, that\ntheir gods, who are not matter, penetrate that which is matter. But it\nmust be obvious, that to penetrate matter, it is necessary to have some\ncorrespondence with matter, consequently to have extent; now to have\nextent, is to have one of the properties of matter. If the Divinity\npenetrates matter, then he is material; by a necessary deduction he is\ninseparable from matter; then if he is omnipresent, he will be in every\nthing. This the theologian will not allow: he will say it is a mystery;\nby which I shall understand that he is himself ignorant how to account\nfor his own positions; this will not be the case with making nature act\nafter immutable laws; she will of necessity be every where, in my body,\nin my arm, in every other material being, because matter composes them\nall. The Divinity who has given this invariable system, will without\nany incongruous reasoning, without any subterfuge, be also present every\nwhere, inasmuch as the laws he has prescribed will unchangeably act\nthrough the whole; this does not seem inconsistent with reason to\nsuppose.\n\n_7th, \"The Self-existent Being must of necessity be but one.\"_\n\nIf there he nothing exterior to a being who exists necessarily, it must\nfollow that he is unique. It will be obvious that this proposition is\nthe same with the preceding one; at least, if they are not willing to\ndeny the existence of the material world.\n\n_8th, \"The self-existent and original Cause of all things, must be an\nintelligent being.\"_\n\nHere Dr. Clarke most unquestionably assigneth a human quality:\nintelligence is a faculty appertaining to organized or animated beings,\nof which we have no knowledge out of these beings. To have intelligence,\nit is necessary to think; to think, it is requisite to have ideas; to\nhave ideas, supposes senses; when senses exist they are material; when\nthey are material, they cannot be a pure spirit, in the language of the\ntheologian.\n\nThe necessary Being who comprehends, who contains, who produces animated\nbeings, contains, includes, and produceth intelligence. But has the\ngreat whole a peculiar intelligence, which moveth it, which maketh\nit act, which determineth it in the mode that intelligence moves and\ndetermines animated bodies; or rather, is not this intelligence the\nconsequence of immutable laws, a certain modification resulting from\ncertain combinations of matter, which exists under one form of these\ncombinations, but is wanting under another form? This is assuredly what\nnothing is competent absolutely, and demonstrably to prove. Man having\nplaced himself in the first rank in the universe, has been desirous to\njudge of every thing after what he saw within himself, because he\nhath pretended that in order to be perfect it was necessary to be\nlike himself. Here is the source of all his erroneous reasoning upon\nnature--the foundation of his ideas upon his gods. He has therefore\nconcluded, perhaps not with the most polished wisdom, that it would be\nindecorous in himself, injurious to the Divinity, not to invest him with\na quality which is found estimable in man--which he prizes highly--to\nwhich he attaches the idea of perfection--which he considers as a\nmanifest proof of superiority. He sees his fellow-creature is offended\nwhen he is thought to lack intelligence; he therefore judges it to be\nthe same with the Divinity. He denies this quality to nature, because\nhe considers her a mass of ignoble matter, incapable of self-action;\nalthough she contains and produces intelligent beings. But this is\nrather a personification of an abstract quality, than an attribute of\nthe Deity, with whose perfections, with whose mode of existence, he\ncannot by any possible means become acquainted according to the fifth\nproposition of Dr. Clarke himself. It is in the earth that is engendered\nthose living animals called worms; yet we do not say the earth is a\nliving creature. The bread which man eats, the wine that he drinks, are\nnot themselves thinking substances; yet they nourish, sustain, and cause\nthose beings to think, who are susceptible of this modification of\ntheir existence. It is likewise in nature, that is formed intelligent,\nfeeling, thinking beings; yet it cannot be rationally said, that nature\nfeels, thinks, and is intelligent after the manner of these beings, who\nnevertheless spring out of her bosom.\n\nHow! cries the metaphysician, the subtilizing philosopher, what! refuse\nto the Divinity, those qualities we discover in his creatures? Must,\nthen, the work be more perfect than the workman? Shall God, who made the\neye, not himself see? Shall God, who formed the ear, not himself hear!\nThis at a superficial view appears insuperable: but are the questioners,\nhowever triumphantly they may make the inquiry, themselves aware of the\nlength this would carry them, even if their queries were answered with\nthe most unqualified affirmative? Have they sufficiently reflected\non the tendency of this mode of reasoning? If this be admitted as a\npostulatum, are they prepared to follow it in all its extent? Suppose\ntheir argument granted, what is to be done with all those other\nqualities upon which man does not set so high a value? Are they also\nto be ascribed to the Divinity, because we do not refuse him qualities\npossessed by his creatures? By a parity of reasoning we should attach\nfaculties that would be degrading to the Divinity. Thus it ever happens\nwith those who travel out of the limits of their own knowledge; they\ninvolve themselves in perpetual contradictions which they can never\nreconcile; which only serve to prove that in arguing upon points, on\nwhich universal ignorance prevails, the result is constantly that all\nthe deductions made from such unsteady principles, must of necessity be\nat war with each other, in hostility with themselves. Thus, although\nwe cannot help feeling the profound wisdom, that must have dictated the\nsystem we see act with such uniformity, with such constancy, with\nsuch astonishing power, we cannot form the most slender idea of the\nparticular nature of that wisdom; because if we were for an instant to\nassimilate it to our own, weak and feeble as it is, we should from that\ninstant be in a state of contradiction; seeing we could not then\navoid considering the evil we witness, the sorrow we experience, as a\ndereliction of this wisdom, which at least proves one great truth, _that\nwe are utterly incapable of forming an idea of the Divinity_. But in\ncontemplating things as our own experience warrants in whatever we do\nunderstand, in considering nature as acting by unchangeable laws, we\nfind good and evil necessarily existing, without at all involving the\nwisdom of the great _Cause of causes_; who thus has no need to remedy\nthat, which the further progress of the eternal system will regulate of\nitself, or which industry and patient research on our parts will enable\nus to discover the means of futurely avoiding.\n\n_9th, \"The self-existent and original Cause of all things, is not a\nnecessary agent, but a being endued with liberty and choice._\"\n\nMan is called free, when he finds within himself motives that determine\nhim to action, or when his will meets no obstacle to the performance of\nthat to which his motives have determined him. The necessary Being of\nwhich question is here made, doth he find no obstacles to the execution\nof the projects which are attributed to him? Is he willing, adopting\ntheir own hypothesis, that evil should be committed, or can he not\nprevent it? In this latter case he is not free; if his will does meet\nwith obstacles, if he is willing to permit evil; then he suffers man\nto restrain his liberty, by deranging his projects; if he has not these\nprojects, then they are themselves in error who ascribe them to him.\nHow will the metaphysicians draw themselves out of this perplexing\nintricacy?\n\nThe further a theologian goes, whilst considering his gods as\npossessed of human qualities, as acting by mortal motives, the more he\nflounders--the greater the mass of contradiction he heaps together:\nthus if it be asked of him, can God reward crime, punish virtue, he will\nimmediately answer, no! In this answer he will have truth: but then this\ntruth, and the freedom which is ascribed to him, cannot, according to\nhuman ideas, exist together; because if this being cannot love vice,\ncannot hate virtue, and it is evident he cannot, he is in fact not more\nfree than man himself. Again, God is said to have made a covenant with\nhis creatures; now it is the very essence of a covenant to restrict\nchoice; and that being must be considered a necessary agent who is\nunder the necessity of fulfilling any given act. As it is impossible to\nsuppose the Divinity can act irrationally, it must be conceded that as\nhe made these laws, he is himself obliged to follow them: because if he\nwas not, as we must again suppose he does nothing without a good reason,\nhe would thereby imply, that the mode of action he adopted would be\nwiser; which would again involve a contradiction. The theologians\nfearing, without doubt, to restrain the liberty of the Divinity, have\nsupposed it was necessary that he should not be bound by his own laws,\nin which they have shewn somewhat more ignorance of their subject than\nthey imagined.\n\n_10th, \"The self-existent Being, the supreme Cause of all things, must\nof necessity have infinite power.\"_\n\nAs nature is adequate to produce every thing we see--as she contains\nthe whole united power of the universe, her power has consequently no\nlimits: the being who conferred this power cannot have less. But if the\nideas of the theologians were adopted, this power would not appear\nquite so unlimited; since, according to them, man is a free agent,\nconsequently has the means of acting contrary to this power, which at\nonce sets a boundary to it. An equitable monarch is perhaps nothing\nless than he is a free agent; when he believes himself bound to act\nconformably to the laws, which he has sworn to observe, or which he\ncannot violate without wounding his justice. The theologian is a man who\nmay be very fairly estimated neuter; because he destroys with one hand\nwhat he establishes with the other.\n\n_11th, \"The Supreme Cause and Author of all things, must of necessity be\ninfinitely wise.\"_\n\nAs nature produces all things by certain immutable laws, it will require\nno great difficulty to allow that she may be infinitely wise: indeed,\nwhatever side of the argument may be taken, this fact will result as\na necessary consequence. It will hardly admit of a question that all\nthings are produced by nature: if, therefore, we do not allow her wisdom\nto be first rate, it would be an insult to the Divinity, who gave her\nher system. If the theologian himself is to take the lead, he also\nadmits that nature operates under the immediate auspices of his gods;\nwhatever she does, must then, according to his own shewing, be executed\nwith the most polished wisdom. But the theologian is not satisfied with\ngoing thus far: he will insist, not only that he knows what these\nthings are, but also that he knows the end they have in view: this,\nunfortunately, is the rock he splits upon. According to his own\nadmission, the ways of God are impenetrable to man. If we grant his\nposition, what is the result? Why, that it is at random he speaks. If\nthese ways are impenetrable, by what means did he acquire his knowledge\nof them? How did he discover the end proposed by the Deity? If they\nare not impenetrable, they then can be equally known to other men as\nto himself. The theologian would be puzzled to shew he has any more\nprivileges in nature than his fellow mortals. Again, if he has asserted\nthese things to be impenetrable, when they are not so, he is then in the\nsituation that he has himself placed Mahomet: he is no longer worthy of\nbeing attended to, because he has swerved from veracity. It certainly is\nnot very consistent with the sublime idea of the Divinity that he should\nbe clothed with that weak, vain passion of man, called glory: the being\nwho had the faculty of producing such a system as it operated in nature,\ncould hardly be supposed to have such a frivolous passion as we know\nthis to be in our fellows: and as we can never reason but after what\nwe do know, it would appear nothing can be more inconsistent than thus\ncontinually heaping together our own feeble, inconsistent views, and\nthen supposing the great _Cause of causes_ acts by such futile rules.\n\n_12th, \"The supreme Cause and Author of all things must of necessity be\na being of infinite goodness, justice, and truth, and all other moral\nperfections, such as become the supreme governor and judge of the\nworld.\"_\n\nWe must again repeat that these are human qualities drawn from the model\nof man himself; they only suppose a being of the human species, who\nshould be divested of what we call imperfections: this is certainly\nthe highest point of view in which our finite minds are capable of\ncontemplating the Divinity: but as this being has neither species nor\ncause, consequently no fellow creatures, he must necessarily be of\nan order so different to man, that human faculties can in no wise\nbe appropriately assigned to him. The idea of perfection, as man\nunderstands it, is an abstract, metaphysical, negative idea, of which\nhe has no archetype whereby to form a judgment: he would call that a\nperfect being, who, similar to himself, was wanting in those qualities\nwhich he finds prejudicial to him; but such a being would after all be\nno wore than a man. It is always relatively to himself, to his own mode\nof feeling and of thinking, that a thing is either perfect or imperfect;\nit is according to this, that in his eyes a thing is more or less useful\nor prejudicial; agreeable or disagreeable. Justice includes all moral\nperfections. One of the most prominent features of justice, in the\nideas of man, is the equity of the relations subsisting between beings,\nfounded upon their mutual wants. According to the theologian, his gods\nowe nothing to man. How then does he measure out his ideas of justice?\nFor a monarch to say he owed nothing to his subjects, would be\nconsidered, even by this theologian himself, as rank injustice;\nbecause he would expect the fulfilment of duties on their part, without\nexercising those which devolved upon himself. Duties, according to\nthe only idea man can form of them, must be reciprocal. It is rather\nstretching the human capabilities, to understand the relations between\na pure spirit and material beings--between finity and infinity--between\neternal beings and those which are transitory: thus it is, that\nmetaphysics hold forth an inconceivable being by the very attributes\nwith which they clothe him; for either he has these attributes, or\nhe has them not: whether he has them or has them not, man can only\nunderstand them after his own powers of comprehension. If he does at\nall understand them, he cannot have the slightest idea of justice\nunaccompanied by duties, which are the very basis, the superstructure,\nthe pillars upon which this virtue rests. Whether we are to view it as\nself-love or ignorance in the theologian, that he thus dresses up his\ngods after himself, it certainly was not the happiest effort of his\nimagination to work by an inverse rule: for, according to himself,\nthe qualities he describes are all the negation of what he calls them.\nDoctor Clarke himself stumbles a little upon these points; he insists\nupon free agency, and uses this extraordinary method to support his\nargument; he says, \"God is, by necessity, a free agent: and he can no\nmore possibly cease to be so, than he can cease to exist. He must of\nnecessity, every moment choose to act, or choose to forbear acting;\nbecause two contradictories cannot possibly be true at once. Man also\nis by necessity, not in the nature of things, but through God's\nappointment, a free agent. And it is no otherwise in his power to cease\nto be such, than by depriving himself of life.\" Will Doctor Clarke\npermit us to put one simple question: If to be obligated to do a\ncertain given thing, is to be free, what is it to be coerced? Or if two\ncontradictories cannot be true at once, by what rule of logic are we\nto measure the idea of that freedom which arises out of necessity.\nSupposing necessity to be what Dr. Johnson, (using Milton as his\nauthority) says it is, \"compulsion,\" \"fatality,\" would it be considered\na man was less restrained in his actions because he was only compelled\nto do what was right? The restraint would undoubtedly he beneficial to\nhim, but it would not therefore render him more a free agent. If the\nDivinity cannot love wickedness, cannot hate goodness, (and surely\nthe theologians themselves will not pretend he can,) then the power of\nchoice has no existence as far as these two things are concerned; and\nthis upon Clarke's own principle, because two contradictories cannot be\ntrue at once. Nothing could, I think, appear a greater contradiction,\nthan the idea that the _Great Cause of causes_ could by any possibility\nlove vice: if such a monstrous principle could for a moment have\nexistence, there would be an end of all the foundations of religion.\n\nThe Doctor is very little happier in reasoning upon _immateriality_.\nHe says, by way of illustrating his argument, \"that it is possible to\ninfinite power to create an immaterial cogitative substance, endued\nwith a power of beginning motion, and with a liberty of will or choice.\"\nAgain, \"that immaterial substances are not impossible; or, that a\nsubstance immaterial is not a contradictory notion. Now, whoever asserts\nthat it is contradictory, must affirm that whatever is not matter is\nnothing; and that, to say any thing exists which is not matter, is\nsaying that there exists something which is nothing, which in other\nwords is plainly this,--that whatever we have not an idea of, is\nnothing, and impossible to be.\" It could, I am apt to believe, never\nhave entered into any reasonable mind that a thing was impossible\nbecause he could have no idea of it:--many things, on the contrary, are\npossible, of which we have not the most slender notion: but it does\nnot, I presume, flow consecutively out of this admission, that therefore\nevery thing is, which is not impossible. Doctor Clarke then, rather begs\nthe question on this occasion. In the schools it is never considered\nrequisite to prove a negative; indeed, this is ranked by logicians\namongst those things impossible to be, but it is considered of\nthe highest importance to soundness of argument, to establish the\naffirmative by the most conclusive reasoning. Taking this for granted,\nwe will apply the doctor's own reasoning. He says, \"Nothing is that of\nwhich every thing, can truly be affirmed. So that the idea of nothing,\nif I may so speak, is absolutely the negative of all ideas; the idea,\ntherefore, either of a finite or infinite nothing is a contradiction\nin terms.\" To affirm, of a thing with truth, it must be necessary to be\nacquainted with that thing. To have ideas, as we have already proved, it\nis necessary to have perceptions; to have perceptions, it is requisite\nto have sensations; to have sensations, requires organs. An idea cannot\nbe, and not be, at the same moment: the idea of substance, it will\nscarcely be denied, is that of a thing solid, real, according to Dryden;\ncapable of supporting accidents, according to Watts; something of which\nwe can say that it is, according to Davies; body, corporeal nature,\naccording to Newton; the idea of immaterial, according to Hooker, is\nincorporeal. How then am I to understand immaterial substance? Is it\nnot, according to these definitions, that which cannot couple together?\nIf a thing be immaterial, it cannot be a substance; if a substance, it\ncannot be immaterial: those I apprehend will not have many ideas, who do\nnot see this is a complete negative of all ideas. If, therefore, on the\noutset, the doctor cannot find words, by which he can convey the idea of\nthat of which he is so desirous to prove the existence, by what chain of\nreasoning does he flatter himself that he is to be understood? He will\nendeavour to draw out of this dilemma, by assuring as there are things\nwhich we can neither see nor touch, but which do not the less exist on\nthat account. Granted: but from thence we can neither reason upon\nthem, nor assign them qualities; we must at least either feel them or\nsomething like them, before we can have any idea of them: this, however,\nwould not prove they were not substances, nor that substances can be\nimmaterial. A thing may with great possibility exist of which we have no\nknowledge, and yet be material; but I maintain until we have a knowledge\nof it, it exists not for us, any more than colours exist for a man born\nblind; the man who has sight knows they do exist, can describe them to\nhis dark neighbour; from this description the blind man may form some\nidea of them by analogy with what he himself already knows; or, perhaps,\nhaving a finer tact than his neighbour, he may be enabled to distinguish\nthem by their surfaces; it would, therefore, be bad reasoning in the\nman born blind, to deny the existence of colours; because although these\ncolours may have no relation with the senses in the absence of sight,\nthey have with those who have it in their power to see and to know\nthem: this blind man, however, would-appear a little ridiculous if he\nundertook to define them with all their gradations of shade; with all\ntheir variations under different masses of light. Again, if those who\nwere competent to discriminate these modifications of matter called\ncolours, were to define them to this blind man, as those modifications\nof matter called sound, would the blind man be able to have any\nconception of them? It certainly would not be wise in him to aver, that\nsuch a thing as colorific sound had no existence, was impossible; but\nat least he would be very justifiable in saying, they appeared\ncontradictions, because he had some ideas of sound which did not at\nall aid him in forming those of colour; he would not, perhaps, be very\ninconclusive if he suspected the competency of his informer to the\ndefinition attempted, from his inability to convey to him in any\ndistinct, understood terms, his own ideas of colours. The theologian is\na blind man, who would explain to others who are also blind, the shades\nand colours of a portrait whose original he has not even stumbled upon\nin the dark. There is nothing incongruous in supposing that every thing\nwhich has existence is matter; but it requires the complete inversion of\nall our ideas, to conceive that which is immaterial; because, in point\nof fact, this would be a quality of which \"nothing can with truth be\naffirmed.\"\n\nIt is, indeed true, that Plato, who was a great creator of chimeras,\nsays, \"those who admit nothing but what they can see and feel, are\nstupid ignorant beings, who refuse to admit the reality of the existence\nof invisible things.\" With all due deference to such an authority, we\nmay still venture to ask, is there then no difference, no shade, no\ngradation, between an admission of possibilities and the proof of\nrealities. Theology would then be the only science in which it is\npermitted to conclude that a thing is, as soon as it is possible to be.\nWill the assertion of either Clarke or Plato stand absolutely in place\nof all evidence? Would they themselves permit such to be convincing if\nused against them? The theologians evidently hold this Platonic, this\ndogmatical language; they have dreamed the dreams of their master;\nperhaps if they were examined a little, they would be found nothing\nmore than the result of those obscure notions, those unintelligible\nmetaphysics, adopted by the Egyptian, Chaldean, and Assyrian priests,\namong whom Plato drew up his philosophy. If, however, philosophy means\nthat which we are led to suppose it does, by the great John Locke, it is\n\"a system by which natural effects are explained.\" Taken in this sense\nwe shall be under the necessity of agreeing, that the Platonic doctrines\nin no wise merit this distinction, seeing he has only drawn the human\nmind from the contemplation of visible nature, to plunge it into the\nunfathomable depths of invisibility--of intangibility--of suppositious\nspeculation, where it can find little other food except chimeras or\nconjecture. Such a philosophy is rather fantastical, yet it would seem\nwe are required to subscribe to its positions without being allowed\nto compare them with reason, to examine them through the medium of\nexperience, to try the gold by the action of fire: thus we have in\nabundance the terms spirits, incorporeal substances, invisible powers,\nsupernatural effects, innate ideas, mysterious virtues, possessed by\ndemons, &c. &c. which render our senses entirely useless, which put\nto flight every thing like experience; while we are gravely told that\n\"nothing is that, of which no thing can truly be affirmed.\" Whoever may\nbe willing to take the trouble of reading the works of Plato and his\ndisciples, such as Proclus, Iamblicus, Plotinus, and others, will not\nfail to find in them almost every doctrine, every metaphysical\nsubject of the theologian; in fact, the theurgy of many of the modern\nsuperstitions, which for the most part seems to be little more than a\nslight variation of that adopted by the ethnic priests. Dreamers have\nnot had that variety in their follies, that has generally been imagined.\nThat some of these things should be extensively admitted, by no means\naffords proof of their existence. Nothing appears more facile than to\nmake mankind admit the greatest absurdities, under the imposing name\nof mysteries; after having imbued him from his infancy with maxims\ncalculated to hoodwink his reason--to lead him astray--to prevent him\nfrom examining that which he is told he must believe. Of this there\ncannot well exist a more decisive proof than the great extent of\ncountry, the millions of human beings who faithfully and without\nexamination have adopted the idle dreams, the rank absurdities, of that\narch impostor Mahomet. However this may be, we shall be obliged again\nto reply to Plato, and to those of his followers who impose upon us the\nnecessity of believing that which we cannot comprehend, that, in order\nto know that a thing exists, it is at least necessary to have some idea\nof it; that this idea can only come to us by the medium of our senses;\nthat consequently every thing of which our senses do not give us a\nknowledge, is in fact nothing for us; and can only rest upon our faith;\nupon that admission which is pretty generally, even by the theologian\nhimself, considered as rather a sandy foundation whereon to erect the\naltar of truth: that if there be an absurdity in not accrediting the\nexistence of that which we do not know, there is no less extravagance in\nassigning it qualities; in reasoning upon its properties; in clothing\nit with faculties, which may or may not be suitable to its mode of\nexistence; in substituting idols of our own creation; in combining\nincompatible attributes, which will neither bear the test of experience\nnor the scrutiny of reason; and then endeavouring to make the whole pass\ncurrent by dint of the word infinite, which we will now examine.\n\nInfinite, according to Dennis, means \"boundless, unlimited.\" Doctor\nClarke thus describes it:--he says, \"The self-existent being must be a\nmost simple, unchangeable incorruptible being; without parts, figure,\nmotion, divisibility, or any other such properties as we find in matter.\nFor all these things do plainly and necessarily imply finiteness in\ntheir very notion, and are utterly inconsistent with complete infinity.\"\nIngenuously, is it possible for man to form any true notion of such a\nquality? The theologians themselves acknowledge he cannot. Further, the\nDoctor allows, \"That as to the particular manner of his being infinite,\nor every where present, in opposition to the manner of created things\nbeing present in such or such finite places, this is as impossible for\nour finite understandings to comprehend or explain, as it is for us to\nform an adequate idea of infinity.\" What is this, then, but that which\nno man can explain or comprehend? If it cannot be comprehended, it\ncannot be detailed; if it cannot be detailed, it is precisely \"that of\nwhich nothing can with truth be affirmed;\" and this is Dr. Clarke's own\nexplanation of nothing. Indeed, is not the human mind obliged by its\nvery nature to join limited quantities to other quantities, which it can\nonly conceive as limited, in order to form to itself a sort of confused\nidea of something beyond its own grasp, without ever reaching the point\nof infinity, which eludes every attempt at definition? Then it would\nappear that it is an abstraction, a mere negation of limitation.\n\nOur learned adversary seems to think it strange that the existence of\nincorporeal, immaterial substances, the essence of which we are not\nable to comprehend, should not be generally accredited. To enforce\nthis belief, he says, \"There is not so mean and contemptible a plant\nor animal, that does not confound the most enlarged understanding, upon\nearth: nay, even the simplest and plainest of all inanimate beings\nhave their essence or substance hidden from us in the deepest and most\nimpenetrable obscurity.\"\n\nWe shall reply to him,\n\n_First_, That the idea of an immaterial substance; or being without\nextent, is only an absence of ideas, a negation of extent, as we have\nalready shewn; that when we are told a being is not matter, they speak\nto us of that which is not, and do not teach us that which is; because\nby insisting that a being is such, that it cannot act upon any of our\nsenses, they, in fact, inform us that we have no means of assuring\nourselves whether such being exists or not.\n\n_Secondly_, We shall avow without the least hesitation, that men of the\ngreatest genius, of the most indefatigable research, are not acquainted\nwith the essence of stones, plants, animals, nor with the secret springs\nwhich constitute some, which make others vegetate or act: but then at\nleast we either feel them or see them; our senses have a knowledge of\nthem in some respects; we can perceive some of their effects; we have\nsomething whereby to judge of them, either accurately or inaccurately;\nwe can conceive that which is matter, however varied, however subtle,\nhowever minute, by analogy with other matter; but our senses cannot\ncompass that which is immaterial on any side; we cannot by any possible\nmeans understand it; we have no means whatever of ascertaining its\nexistence; consequently we cannot even form an idea of it; such a being\nis to us an occult principle, or rather a being which imagination has\ncomposed, by deducting from it every known quality. If we are ignorant\nof the intimate combination of the most material beings, we at least\ndiscover, with the aid of experience, some of their relations with\nourselves: we have a knowledge of their surface, their extent, their\nform, their colour, their softness, their density; by the impressions\nthey make on our senses, we are capable of discriminating them--of\ncomparing them--of judging of them in some manner--of seeing them--of\neither avoiding or courting them, according to the different modes in\nwhich we are affected by them; we cannot apply any of these tests to\nimmaterial beings; to spirits; neither can those men who are unceasingly\ntalking to mankind of these inconceivable things.\n\n_Thirdly_, We have a consciousness of certain modifications in\nourselves, which we call sentiment, thought, will, passions: for want\nof being acquainted with our own peculiar essence; for want of precisely\nunderstanding the energy of our own particular organization, we\nattribute these effects to a concealed cause, distinguished from\nourselves; which the theologians call a spiritual cause, inasmuch as\nit appears to act differently from our body. Nevertheless, reflection,\nexperience, every thing by which we are enabled to form any kind of\njudgment, proves that material effects can only emanate from material\ncauses. We see nothing in the universe but physical, material effects,\nthese can only be produced by analogous causes; it is, then certainly\nmore rational to attribute them to nature herself, of which we may know\nsomething, if we will but deign to meditate her with attention, rather\nthan to spiritual causes, of which we must for ever remain ignorant, let\nus study them as long as we please.\n\nIf incomprehensibility be not a sufficient reason for absolutely denying\nthe possibility of immateriality, it certainly is not of a cogency\nto establish its existence; we shall always be less in a capacity\nto comprehend a spiritual cause, than one that is material; because\nmateriality is a known quality; spirituality is an occult, an unknown\nquality; or rather it is a mode of speech of which we avail ourselves\nto throw a veil over our own ignorance. We are repeatedly told that our\nsenses only bring us acquainted with the external of things; that our\nlimited ideas are not capable of conceiving immaterial beings: we agree\nfrankly to this position; but then our senses do not even shew us the\nexternal of these immaterial substances, Which the theologians will\nnevertheless attempt to define to us; upon which they unceasingly\ndispute among themselves; upon which even until this day they are not\nin perfect unison with each other. The great John Locke in his familiar\nletters, says, \"I greatly esteem all those who faithfully defend their\nopinions; but there are so few persons who, according to the manner they\ndo defend them, appear fully convinced of the opinions they profess,\nthat I am tempted to believe there are more sceptics in the world than\nare generally imagined.\"\n\nAbady, one of the most strenuous supporters of immaterialism, says, \"The\nquestion is not what incorporeity is, but whether it be.\" To settle this\ndisputable point, it were necessary to have some data whereon to form\nour judgment; but how assure ourselves of the existence of that, of\nwhich we shall never be competent to have a knowledge? If we are not\ntold what this is; if some tangible evidence be not offered to the human\nmind; how shall we feel ourselves capacitated to judge whether or not\nits existence be even possible? How form an estimate of that picture\nwhose colours elude our sight, whose design we cannot perceive, whose\nfeatures have no means of becoming familiar to our mind, whose very\ncanvas refuses itself to our all research, of which the artist himself\ncan afford no other idea, no other description, but that it is, although\nhe himself can neither shew us how or where! We have seen the ruinous\nfoundations upon which men have hitherto erected this fanciful idea of\nimmateriality; we have examined the proofs which they have offered,\nif proofs they can be called, in support of their hypothesis; we have\nsifted the evidence they have been willing to have accredited, in\norder to establish their position; we have pointed out the numberless\ncontradictions that result from their want of union on this subject,\nfrom the irreconcileable qualities with which they clothe their\nimaginary system. What conclusion, then, ought fairly, rationally,\nconsistently, to be drawn from the whole? Can we, or can we not admit\ntheir argument to be conclusive, such as ought to be received by beings\nwho think themselves sane? Will it allow any other inference than that\nit has no existence; that immateriality is a quality hitherto unproved;\nthe idea of which the mind of man has no means of compassing? Still they\nwill insist, \"there are no contradictions between the qualities which\nthey attribute to these immaterial substances; but there is a difference\nbetween the understanding of man and the nature of these substances.\"\nThis granted, are they nearer the point at which they labour? What\nstandard is it necessary man should possess, to enable him to judge\nof these substances? Can they shew the test that will lead to an\nacquaintance with them? Are not those who have thus given loose to their\nimagination, who have given birth to this system, themselves men? Does\nnot the disproportion, of which they speak with such amazing confidence,\nattach to themselves as well as to others? If it needs an infinite\nmind to comprehend infinity--to form an idea of incorporeity--can the\ntheologian himself boast he is in a capacity to understand it? To what\npurpose then is it they speak of these things to others? Why do they\nattempt descriptions of that which they allow to be indescribable? Man,\nwho will never be an infinite being, will never be able to conceive\ninfinity; if, then, he has hitherto been incompetent to this perfection\nof knowledge, can he reasonably flatter himself he will ever obtain it;\ncan he hope under any circumstances to conquer that which according to\nthe shewing of all is unconquerable?\n\nNevertheless it is pretended, that it is absolutely necessary to know\nthese substances: but how prove the necessity of having a knowledge of\nthat which is impossible to be known? We are then told that good sense\nand reason are sufficient to convince us of its existence: this is\ntaking new ground, when the old has been found untenable: for we are\nalso told that reason is a treacherous guide; one that frequently leads\nus astray; that in religious matters it ought not to prevail: at least\nthen they ought to shew us the precise time when we must resume this\nreason. Shall we consult it again, when the question is, whether what\nthey relate is probable; whether the discordant qualities which they\nunite are consistently combined; whether their own arguments have all\nthat solidity which they would themselves wish them to possess? But we\nhave strangely mistaken them if they are willing that we should recur to\nit upon these points; they will instead, insist we ought blindly to\nbe directed by that which they vouchsafe to inform us; that the most\ncertain road to happiness is to submit in all things to that which they\nhave thought proper to decide on the nature of things, of which they\navow their own ignorance, when they assert them to be beyond the reach\nof mortals. Thus it would appear that when we should consent to accredit\nthese mysteries, it would never arise of our own knowledge; seeing this\ncan no otherwise obtain but by the effect of demonstrable evidence;\nit would never arise from any intimate conviction of our minds; but it\nwould be entirely on the word of the theologian himself, that we should\nground our faith; that we should yield our belief. If these things are\nto the human species what colours are to the man born blind, they have\nat least no existence with relation to ourselves. It will avail the\nblind man nothing to tell him these colours have no less existence,\nbecause he cannot see them. But what shall we say of that portrait whose\ncolours the blind man attempts to explain, whose features he is willing\nwe should receive upon his authority, whose proportions are to be taken\nfrom his description, merely because we know he cannot behold them?\n\nThe Doctor, although unwilling to relinquish his subject, removes none\nof the difficulty when he asks, \"Are our five senses, by an absolute\nnecessity in the nature of the thing, all and the only possible ways of\nperception? And is it impossible and contradictory there should be any\nbeing in the universe, indued with ways of perception different from\nthese that are the result of our present composition? Or are these\nthings, on the contrary, purely arbitrary; and the same power that gave\nus these, may have given others to other beings, and might, if he\nhad pleased have given to us others in this present state?\" It seems\nperfectly unnecessary to the true point of the argument to reason upon\nwhat can or cannot be done: I therefore reply, that the fact is, we have\nbut five senses: by the aid of these man is not competent to form any\nidea whatever of immateriality; but he is also in as absolute a state of\nignorance, upon what might be his capabilities of conception, if he had\nmore senses. It is rather acknowledging a weakness in his evidence,\non the part of the Doctor, to be thus obliged to rest it upon the\nsupposition of what might be the case, if man was a being different to\nwhat he is; in other words, that they would be convincing to mankind\nif the human race were not human beings. Therefore to demand what the\nDivinity could have done in such a case, is to suppose the thing\nin question, seeing we cannot form an idea how far the power of\nthe Divinity extends: but we may be reasonably allowed to use the\ntheological argument in elucidation; these men very gravely insist,\nupon what authority must be best known to themselves, \"that God cannot\ncommunicate to his works that perfection which he himself possesses;\"\nat the same moment they do not fail to announce his omnipotence. Will\nit require any capacity, more than is the common lot of a child, to\ncomprehend the absurd contradiction of the two assertions? As beings\npossessing but five senses, we must then, of necessity, regulate our\njudgment by the information they are capable of affording us: we cannot,\nby any possibility, have a knowledge of those, which confer the capacity\nto comprehend beings, of an order entirely distinguished from that\nin which we occupy a place. We are ignorant of the mode in which even\nplants vegetate, how then be acquainted with that which has no affinity\nwith ourselves? A man born blind, has only the use of four senses; he\nhas not the right, however, of assuming it as a fact, there does not\nexist an extra sense for others; but he may very reasonably, and with\ngreat truth aver, that he has no idea of the effects which would be\nproduced in him, by the sense which he lacks: notwithstanding, if this\nblind man was surrounded by other men, whose birth had also left\nthem devoid or sight, might he not without any very unwarrantable\npresumption, be authorized to inquire of them by what right, upon what\nauthority, they spoke to him of a sense they did not themselves\npossess; how they were enabled to reason, to detail the minutiae of that\nsensation upon which their own peculiar experience taught them nothing?\n\nIn short, we can again reply to Dr. Clarke, and to the theologians, that\nfollowing up their own systems, the supposition is impossible, and ought\nnot to be made, seeing that the Divinity, who according to their own\nshewing, made man, was not willing that he should have more than five\nsenses; in other words, that he should be nothing but what he actually\nis; they all found the existence of these immaterial substances upon\nthe necessity of a power that has the faculty to give a commencement to\nmotion. But if matter has always existed, of which there does not seem\nto exist a doubt, it has always had motion, which is as essential to it\nas its extent, and flows from its primitive properties. Indeed the human\nmind, with its five senses, is not more competent to comprehend matter\ndevoid of motion, than it is to understand the peculiar quality of\nimmateriality: motion therefore exists only in and by matter; mobility\nis a consequence of its existence; not that the great whole can occupy\nother parts of space than it actually does; the impossibility of\nthat needs no argument, but all its parts can change their respective\nsituations--do continually change them; it is from thence results the\npreservation, the life of nature, which is always as a whole immutable:\nbut in supposing, as is done every day, that matter is inert, that is to\nsay, incapable of producing any thing by itself, without the assistance\nof a moving power, which sets it in motion, are we by any means enabled\nto conceive that material nature receives this activity from an agent,\nwho partakes in nothing of material substance? Can man really figure to\nhimself, even in idea, that that which has no one property of matter,\ncan create matter, draw it from its own peculiar source, arrange\nit, penetrate it, give it play, guide its course? Is it not, on the\ncontrary, more rational to the mind, more consistent with truth, more\ncongenial to experience, to suppose that the being who made matter is\nhimself material: is there the smallest necessity to suppose otherwise?\nCan it make man either better or worse, that he should consider the\nwhole that exists as material? Will it in any manner make him a worse\nsubject to his sovereign; a worse father to his children; a more unkind\nhusband; a more faithless friend?\n\nMotion, then, is co-eternal with matter: from all eternity the particles\nof the universe have acted and reacted upon each other, by virtue\nof their respective energies; of their peculiar essences; of their\nprimitive elements; of their various combinations. These particles must\nhave combined in consequence of their affinity; they must have been\neither attracted or repelled by their respective relations with each\nother; in virtue of these various essences, they must have gravitated\none upon the other; united when they were analagous; separated when that\nanalogy was dissolved, by the approach of heterogeneous matter; they\nmust have received their forms, undergone a change of figure, by the\ncontinual collision of bodies. In a material world the acting powers\nmust be material: in a whole every part of which is essentially in\nmotion, there is no occasion for a power distinguished from itself;\nthe whole must be in perpetual motion by its own peculiar energy. The\ngeneral motion, as we have elsewhere proved, has its birth from the\nindividual motion, which beings ever active must uninterruptedly\ncommunicate to each other. Thus every cause produces its effect; this\neffect in its turn becomes a cause, which in like manner produces an\neffect; this constitutes the eternal chain of things, which although\nperpetually changing in its detail, suffers no change in its whole.\n\nTheology, after all, has seldom done more than personify this eternal\nseries of motion; the principle of mobility inherent to matter: it has\nclothed this principle with human qualities, by which it has rendered it\nunintelligible: in applying these properties, they have taken no means\nof understanding how far they were suitable or not: in their eagerness\nto make them assimilate, they have extended them beyond their own\nconception; they have heaped them together without any judgment;\nand they have been surprised when these qualities, contradictory in\nthemselves, did not enable them satisfactorily to account for all the\nphenomena they beheld; from thence they have wrangled; accused each\nother of imbecility; yet infuriated themselves against whoever had the\ntemerity to question that which they did not themselves understand; in\nshort, they have acted like a man who should insist that all other men\nshould have precisely the same vision that he himself had dreamed.\n\nBe this as it may, the greater portion of what either Dr. Clarke or\nthe theologians tell us, becomes, in some respects, sufficiently\nintelligible as soon as applied to nature--to matter: it is eternal,\nthat is to say, it cannot have had a commencement, it never will have\nan end; it is infinite, that is to say, we have no conception of its\nlimits. Nevertheless, human qualities, which must be always borrowed\nfrom ourselves, and with others we have a very slender acquaintance,\ncannot be well suitable to the entire of nature; seeing that these\nqualities are in themselves modes of being, or modes which appertain\nonly to particular beings: not to the great whole which contains them.\n\nThus, to resume the answers which have been given to Dr. Clarke, we\nshall say: _First_, we can conceive that matter has existed from all\neternity, seeing that we cannot conceive it to have been capable of\nbeginning. _Secondly_, that matter is independent, seeing there is\nnothing exterior to itself; that it is immutable, seeing it cannot\nchange its nature, although it is unceasingly changing its form and its\ncombinations. _Thirdly_, that matter is self-existent, since not being\nable to conceive it can be annihilated, we cannot possibly conceive\nit can have commenced to exist. _Fourthly_, that we do not know the\nessence, or the true nature of matter, although we have a knowledge of\nsome of its properties; of some of its qualities: according to the\nmode in which they act upon us. _Fifthly_, that matter not having had a\nbeginning, will never have an end, although its numerous combinations,\nits various forms, have necessarily a commencement and a period.\n_Sixthly_, that if all that exists, or every thing our mind can conceive\nis matter, this matter is infinite; that is to say, cannot be limited by\nany thing; that it is omnipresent, seeing there is no place exterior\nto itself, indeed, if there was a place exterior to it, that would be a\nvacuum. _Seventhly_, that nature is unique, although its elements or\nits parts may be varied to infinity, indued with properties extremely\nopposite; with qualities essentially different. _Eighthly_, that matter,\narranged, modified, and combined in a certain mode, produces in some\nbeings what we call intelligence, which is one of its modes of being,\nnot one of its essential properties, _Ninthly_, that matter is not a\nfree agent, since it cannot act otherwise than it does, in virtue of the\nlaws of its nature, or of its existence; that consequently, heavy bodies\nmust necessarily fall; light bodies by the same necessity rise; fire\nmust burn; man must experience good and evil, according to the quality\nof the beings whose action he experiences. _Tenthly_, that the power\nor the energy of matter, has no other bounds than those which are\nprescribed by its own existence. _Eleventhly_, that wisdom, justice,\ngoodness, &c. are qualities peculiar to matter combined and modified,\nas it is found in some beings of the human species; that the idea of\nperfection is an abstract, negative, metaphysical idea, or mode of\nconsidering objects, which supposes nothing real to be exterior to\nitself. _Twelfthly_, that matter is the principle of motion, which it\ncontains within itself: since matter alone is capable of either giving\nor receiving motion: this is what cannot be conceived of immateriality\nor simple beings destitute of parts, devoid of extent, without mass,\nhaving no ponderosity, which consequently cannot either move itself or\nother bodies.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. V.\n\n_Examination of the Proofs offered by DESCARTES, MALEBRANCHE, NEWTON,\n&c_.\n\n\nIf the evidence of Clarke did not prove satisfactory--if the theologians\nof his day disputed the manner in which he handled his subject--if they\nwere disposed to think he had not established his argument upon\nproper foundations, it did not seem probable that either the system of\nDescartes, the sublime reveries of Malebranche, or the more methodical\nmode adopted by Newton, were at all likely to meet with a better\nreception; the same objections will lie against them all, that they have\nnot demonstrated the existence of their immaterial substances; although\nthey have incessantly spoken of them, as if they were things of which\nthey had the most intimate knowledge. Unfortunately this is a rock which\nthe most sublime geniuses have not been competent to avoid: the most\nenlightened men have done little more than stammer upon a subject which\nthey have all concurred in considering of the highest importance; which\nthey unceasingly hold forth as the most necessary for man to know;\nwithout at the same time considering he is not in a condition to\noccupy himself with objects inaccessible to his senses--which his mind,\nconsequently, can never grasp--which his utmost research cannot bring\ninto that tangible shape by which alone he can be enabled to form a\njudgment.\n\nTo the end that we may be convinced of that want of solidity which the\ngreatest men have not known how to give to the proofs they have\noffered, but which they have successively imagined has established their\npositions, let us briefly examine what the most celebrated philosophers,\nwhat the most subtile metaphysicians have said. For this purpose we will\nbegin with Descartes, the restorer of philosophy among the moderns, to\nwhose sublime errors we are indebted for the effulgent truths of the\nNewtonian system. This great man himself tells us, \"All the strength of\nargument which I have hitherto used to prove the existence of immaterial\nsubstances, consists in this, that I acknowledge it would not be\npossible, my nature was such as it is, that is to say, that I should\nhave in me the idea of immateriality, if this incorporeity did not truly\nexist; this same immateriality, of which the idea is in me, possesses\nall those high perfections of which our mind can have some slight idea,\nwithout however being able to comprehend them.\" In another place he\nsays, \"We must necessarily conclude from this alone, that because I\nexist, and have the idea of immateriality, that is to say, of a most\nperfect being, the existence is therefore most evidently demonstrated.\"\nThere are not, perhaps, many except Descartes himself, to whom this\nwould appear quite so conclusive; who would be impressed with the\nconviction which he seems to imagine is so very substantive.\n\n_First_, We shall reply to Descartes, it is not a warrantable deduction,\nthat because we have an idea of a thing, we must therefore conclude it\nexists; to give validity to such a mode of reasoning would be productive\nof the greatest mischief; would, in fact, tend to subvert all human\ninstitutions. Our imagination presents us with the idea of a sphinx, or\nof an hippogriff, besides a thousand other fantastical beings; are we,\non that authority, to insist that these things really exist? Is the\nmere circumstance of our having an idea of various parts of nature,\ndiscrepantly jumbled together, without any other evidence as to the\nassemblage, a sufficient warrantry for calling upon mankind to accredit\nthe existence of such heterogeneous masses? If a philosopher of the most\nconsummate experience, of the greatest celebrity, one who enjoyed the\nconfidence of mankind above every other, was to detail the faculties\nand perfections of these visionary beings, although he should hold them\nforth as the perfection of all natural combinations, would, I say, any\nreasonable being lend himself to the asseveration?\n\n_Secondly_, It is obvious that the mere circumstance of existence,\ndoes not prove the absolute existence of any thing anterior to itself;\nalthough in man, as well as the other beings of nature, it is evidence\nthat something has existed before him. If this argument was to be\nadmitted, are they aware how far it, would carry them? To maintain\nthat the existence of one being demonstrably proves the existence of\nan anterior being, would be, in fact, denying that any thing was\nself-existent. The fallacy of such a position is too glaring to need\nrefutation.\n\n_Thirdly_, It is not possible he should have a distinct, positive idea\nof immateriality, of which be, as well as the theologian, labours to\nprove the existence. It is impossible for man, for a material being, to\nform to himself a correct idea, or indeed any idea, of incorporeity; of\na substance without extent, acting upon nature, which is corporeal;\na truth which it may not be presuming too much to say we have already\nsufficiently proved.\n\n_Fourthly_, It is equally impossible for man to have any clear, decided\nidea of perfection, of infinity, of immensity, and other theological\nattributes. To Descartes we must therefore reply as we have done to Dr.\nClarke on his twelfth proposition.\n\nThus nothing can well be less conclusive than the proofs upon which\nDescartes rests the existence of immateriality. He gives it thought\nand intelligence, but how conceive these qualities without a subject to\nwhich they may adhere? He pretends that we cannot conceive it but \"as a\npower which applies itself successively to the parts of the universe.\"\nAgain, he says, \"that an immaterial substance cannot be said to have\nextent, but as we say of fire contained in a piece of iron, which has not,\nproperly speaking, any other extension than that of the iron itself.\"\nAccording to these notions we shall be justified in taxing him with\nhaving announced in a very clear, in a most unequivocal manner,\nthat this is nature herself: this indeed is a pure Spinosism; it was\ndecidedly on the principles of Descartes that Spinosa drew up his\nsystem; in fact it flows out of it consecutively.\n\nWe might, therefore, with great reason, accuse Descartes of atheism,\nseeing that he very effectually destroys the feeble proofs he adduces\nin support of his own hypothesis; we have solid foundation for insisting\nthat his system overturns the idea of the creation, because if from\nthe modification we subtract the subject, the modification itself\ndisappears: and if, according to the Cartesians, this immateriality is\nnothing without nature, they are complete Spinosians, with another name.\nIf incorporeity is the motive-power of this nature, it no longer exists\nindependently; it, in fact, exists no longer than the subject to which\nit is inherent subsists. Thus no longer existing independently, it will\nexist only while the nature which it moves shall endure; without\nmatter, without a subject to move, to preserve, what is to become of it,\naccording to this doctrine, or rather according to this elucidation of a\nsystem which is in itself untenable?\n\nIt will be obvious from this, that Descartes, far from establishing on\na rocky foundation the existence of this immateriality, totally destroys\nhis own system. The same thing will necessarily happen to all those who\nreason upon his principles; they will always finish by confuting him,\nand by contradicting themselves. The same want of just inference, the\nsame discrepancy, will obtrude themselves in the principles of the\ncelebrated Father Malebranche; which, if considered with the slightest\nattention, appear to conduct directly to Spinosism; in fact, can any\nthing be more in unison with the language of Spinosa himself, than to\nsay, as does Malebranche, \"that the universe is only an emanation from\nGod; that we see every thing in God, that every thing we see is only\nGod; that God alone does every thing that is done; that all the action,\nwith every operation that takes place in nature, is God himself; in a\nword, that God is every being and the only being.\" Is not this formally\nasserting that nature herself is God? Moreover, at the same time\nMalebranche assures us we see every thing in God, he pretends that it is\nnot yet clearly demonstrated that matter and bodies have existence; that\nfaith alone teaches us these mysteries, of which, without it, we should\nnot have any knowledge whatever. In reply, it might be a very fair\nquestion, how the existence of the being who created matter can be\ndemonstrated, if the existence of this matter itself be yet a problem?\nHe himself acknowledges \"that we can have no distinct demonstration of\nthe existence of any other being than of that which is necessary;\" he\nfurther adds, \"that if it be closely examined, it will be seen, that it\nis not even possible to know with certitude, if God be or be not truly\nthe creator of a material, of a sensible world.\" According to these\nnotions, it is evident, that, following up the system of Malebranche,\nman has only his faith to guarantee the existence of the world; yet\nfaith itself supposes its existence; if it be not, however, certain that\nit does exist, and the Bishop of Cloyne, Dr. Berkeley, has also held\nthis in doubt, how shall we be persuaded that we must believe the\noracles which have been delivered to a visionary world?\n\nOn the other hand, these notions of Malebranche completely overturns all\nthe theological doctrines of free agency. How can the liberty of man's\naction be reconciled with the idea that it is the Divinity who is the\nimmediate mover of nature; who actually gives impulse to matter and\nbodies, without whose immediate interference nothing takes place; who\npre-determines his creatures to every thing they do? How can it be\npretended, if this doctrine is to be accredited, that human souls have\nthe faculty of forming thoughts--have the power of volition--are in\na condition to move themselves--have the capacity to modify their\nexistence? If it be supposed with the theologians, that the conservation\nof the creatures in the universe is a continued creation, must it not\nappear, that being thus perpetually recreated, they are enabled to\ncommit evil? It will then be a self-evident fact, that, admitting the\nsystem of Malebranche, God does every thing, and that his creatures\nare no more than passive instruments in his hands. Under this idea they\ncould not be answerable for their sins, because they would have no means\nof avoiding them. Under this notion they could neither have merit or\ndemerit; they would be like a sharp instrument in their own hands, which\nwhether it was applied to a good or to an evil purpose, it would\nattach to themselves, not to the instrument: this would annihilate\nall religion: it is thus that theology is continually occupied with\ncommitting suicide.\n\nLet us now see, if the immortal Newton, the great luminary of science,\nthe champion of astronomical truth, will afford us clearer notions, more\ndistinct ideas, more certain evidence of the existence of immaterial\nsubstances. This great man, whose comprehensive genius unravelled\nnature, whose capacious mind developed her laws, seems to have\nbewildered himself, the instant he lost sight of them. A slave to the\nprejudices of his infancy, he had not the courage to hold the lamp\nof his own enlightened understanding to the agent theology has so\ngratuitously associated with nature; he has not been able to allow\nthat her own peculiar powers were adequate to the production of that\nbeautiful phenomena, he has with such masterly talents so luminously\nexplained. In short, the sublime Newton himself becomes an infant when\nhe quits physics, when he lays aside demonstration, to lose himself in\nthe devious sinuosities, in the inextricable labyrinths, in the delusive\nregions of theology. This is the manner in which he speaks of the\nDivinity:\n\n\"This God,\" says he, \"governs all, not as the soul of the world, but\nas the lord and sovereign of all things. It is in consequence of\nhis sovereignty that he is called the Lord God, [Greek letters],\n_pantokrator_, the universal emperor. Indeed the word God is relative\nand relates itself with slaves; the Deity is the dominion or the\nsovereignty of God, not over his own body, as those think who look upon\nGod as the soul of the world, but over slaves.\"\n\nFrom this it will be seen that Newton, as well as the theologians, makes\nthe Divinity a pure spirit, who presides over the universe as a monarch,\nas a lord paramount; that is to say, what man defines in earthly\ngovernors, despot, absolute princes, powerful monarchs, whose\ngovernments have no model but their own will, who exercise an unlimited\npower over their subjects, transformed into slaves; whom they usually\ncompel to feel in a very grievous manner the weight of their authority.\nBut according to the ideas of Newton, the world has not existed from\neternity, the staves of God have been formed in the course of time; from\nthis it would be a just inference, that before the creation of the world\nthe god of Newton was a sovereign without subjects. Let us see if this\ntruly great philosopher is more in unison with himself in the subsequent\nideas which he delivers on this subject.\n\n\"The supreme God,\" he says, \"is an eternal, infinite, and absolutely\nperfect being; but however perfect a being may be, if he has no\nsovereignty he is not the supreme God. The word God signifies Lord,\nbut every lord is not god; it is the sovereignty of the spiritual Being\nwhich constitutes God; it is the true sovereignty which constitutes the\ntrue God; it is the supreme sovereignty which constitutes the supreme\nGod; it is a false sovereignty which constitutes a false god. From true\nsovereignty, it follows, that the true God is living, intelligent,\nand powerful; and from his other perfections, it follows, that he is\nsupremely or sovereignly perfect. He is eternal, infinite, omniscient;\nthat is to say, he exists from eternity, and will never have an end; he\ngoverns all, and he knows every thing that is done, or that can be done.\nHe is neither eternity nor infinity, but he is eternal and infinite; he\nis not space or duration, but he exists and is present.\" The term here\nused is _adest_, which appears to have been placed there to avoid saying\nthat God is contained in space.\n\nIn all this unintelligible series, nothing is to be found but incredible\nefforts to reconcile the theological attributes, the abstract with the\nhuman qualities, which have been ascribed to the Divinity; we see in\nit negative qualities, which can no longer be suitable to man, given,\nhowever, to the Sovereign of nature, whom he has supposed a king.\nHowever it may be, this picture always supposes the Supreme God to have\noccasion for subjects to establish his sovereignty. It makes God stand\nin need of man for the exercise of his empire; without these, according\nto the text, he would not be a king; he could have had no empire when\nthere was nothing: but if this description of Newton was just, if it\nreally represented the Divinity, we might be very fairly permitted to\nask, Does not this Spiritual King exercise his spiritual empire in vain,\nupon refractory beings, who do not at all times do that which he is\nwilling they should; who are continually struggling against his power;\nwho spread disorder in his states? This Spiritual Monarch, who is master\nof the minds, of the souls, of the wills, of the passions of his slaves,\ndoes he leave them the freedom of revolting against him? This infinite\nMonarch, who fills every thing with his immensity, who governs all, does\nhe also govern the man who sins; does he direct his actions; is he\nin him when he offends his God? The devil, the false god, the evil\nprinciple, hath he not, according to this, a more extensive empire than\nthe true God, whose projects, if we are to believe the theologians, he\nis unceasingly overturning? In earthly governments the true sovereign\nis generally considered to be him whose power in a state influences the\ngreater number of his subjects. If, then, we could suppose him to be\nomnipresent, that is, present in all places, should we not say he was\nthe sad witness to all the outrages committed against his authority,\nand we should not entertain a very exalted opinion of his power if he\npermitted them to continue. This, it is true, would be arguing upon a\nmonarch of this world, still it would be the language held by observers.\n\nIs the spirituality of the Divinity well supported by those who say he\nfills all space, who from that instant give him extent, ascribe to him\nvolume, make him correspond with the various points of space? This is\nthe very reverse of an immaterial substance.\n\n\"God is one,\" continues Newton, \"and he is the same for ever, and every\nwhere, not only by his virtue alone, or by his energy, but also by his\nsubstance.\" But how are we to conceive that a being who is in continual\nactivity, who produces all the changes which beings undergo, can always\nbe himself the same? What is to be understood by either this virtue or\nthis energy? These are relative terms, which do not present any clear,\ndistinct idea to our mind, except as they apply to man: what are we,\nhowever, to understand by the divine substance? If this substance be\nspiritual, that is, devoid of extent, how can there exist in it any\nparts? How can it give impulse to matter, how set it in motion? How can\nit even be conceived by mortals?\n\nNevertheless Newton informs us, \"that all things are contained in him,\nand are moved in him, but without reciprocity of action: God experiences\nnothing by the motion of bodies; these experience no resistance whatever\nby his omnipresence.\" It would here appear that he clothes the Divinity\nwith that which bears the character of vacuum--of nothing; without\nthat, it would be almost impossible not to have a reciprocal action\nor relation between these substances, which are either penetrated or\nencompassed on all sides. It must be obvious, that in this instance our\nscientific author does not distinctly understand himself.\n\nHe proceeds, \"It is an incontestible truth, that God exists necessarily,\nand the same necessity obliges to exist always and every where: from\nwhence it follows, that he is in every thing similar to itself; he is\nall eyes, all ears, all brains, all arms, all feeling, all intelligence,\nall action; but in a mode by no means human, by no means corporeal, and\nwhich is totally unknown to us. In the same manner as a blind man has\nno idea of colours, it is that we have no idea of the mode in which\nGod feels and understands.\" The necessary existence of the Divinity\nis precisely the thing in question; it is this existence that it was\nneedful to have verified by proofs as clear, by evidence as distinct, by\ndemonstration as strong, as gravitation and attraction. One would have\nhardly thought it possible the expansive capabilities of Newton\nwould not have compassed it. But oh, unrivalled genius! so mighty,\nso powerful, so colossal, while yet you was a geometrician; so\ninsignificant, so weak, so inconsistent; when you became a theologian;\nthat is to say, when you reasoned upon that which can neither be\ncalculated, nor submitted to experience; how could you think of speaking\nto us on a subject which, by your own confession is to you just what a\npicture is to a man born blind? Wherefore quit nature, which had already\nexplained to you so much? Why seek in imaginary spaces those causes,\nthose powers, that energy, which she would have distinctly pointed\nout to you, had you been willing to have consulted her with your usual\nsagacity? The gigantic, the intelligent Newton, suffers himself to be\nhoodwinked--to be blinded by prejudice; he has not courage to look a\nquestion fairly in the face, when that question involves notions which\nhabit has rendered sacred to him; he turns his eyes from truth, he casts\nbehind him his experience, he lulls to sleep his reason, when it becomes\nnecessary to probe opinions full of contradictions, yet fraught with the\nbest interests of humanity.\n\nLet us, however, continue to examine how far the most transcendent\ngenius is capable of leading himself astray, when once he abandons\nexperience, when once he chains up his reason, when once he suffers\nhimself to be guided by his imagination.\n\n\"God,\" continues the father of modern philosophy, \"is totally destitute\nof body and of corporeal figure; here is the reason why he cannot be\neither seen, touched, or understood; and ought not to be adored under\nany corporeal form.\" What idea, however, can be formed of a being who\nis resembled by nothing of which we have any knowledge? What are the\nrelations that can be supposed to exist between such very dissimilar\nbeings? When man renders this being his adoration, does he not, in fact,\nin despite of himself, make him a being similar to his own species; does\nhe not suppose that, like himself, he is sensible to homage--to be won\nby presents--gained by flattery; in short, he is treated like a king\nof the earth, who exacts the respect, demands the fealty, requires the\nobedience of all who are submitted to him. Newton adds, \"we have ideas\nof his attributes, but we do not know that it is any one substance; we\nonly see the figures and the colours of bodies; we only hear sounds; we\nonly touch the exterior surfaces; we only scent odours; we only taste\nflavours: no one of our senses, no one of our reflections, can shew us\nthe intimate nature of substances: we have still less ideas of God.\"\n\nIf we have an idea of the attributes of God, it is only because we\nclothe him with those which belong to ourselves; which we never do more\nthan aggrandize, which we only augment or exaggerate; we then mistake\nthem for those qualities with which we were at first acquainted. If in\nall those substances which are pervious to our senses, we only know them\nby the effects they produce on us, after which we assign them qualities,\nat least these qualities are something tangible, they give birth to\nclear and distinct ideas. This superficial knowledge, however slender\nit may be, with which our senses furnish us, is the only one we can\npossibly have; constituted as we are, we find ourselves under the\nnecessity of resting contented with it, and we discover that it is\nsufficient for our wants; but we have not even the most superficial idea\nof immateriality, or a substance distinguished from all those with which\nwe have the slightest acquaintance. Nevertheless, we hear men hourly\nreasoning upon it, disputing about its properties, advancing its\nfaculties, as if they had the most demonstrable evidence of the fact;\ntearing each other in pieces, because the one does not readily admit\nwhat the other asserts, upon a subject which no man is competent to\nunderstand.\n\nOur author goes on \"We only have a knowledge of God by his attributes,\nby his properties, by the excellent and wise arrangement which he\nhas given to all things, and by their FINAL CAUSES: we admire him\nin consequence of his perfections.\" I repeat, that we have no real\nknowledge of the Divinity; that we borrow his attributes from ourselves;\nbut it is evident these cannot be suitable to the Universal Being, who\nneither can have the same nature nor the same properties as particular\nbeings; it is nevertheless after ourselves that we assign him\nintelligence, wisdom, perfection, in subtracting from them what we call\ndefects. As to the order, or the arrangement of the universe, man finds\nit excellent, esteems it the perfection of wisdom, as long as it is\nfavorable to his species; or when the causes which are co-existent with\nhimself do not disturb his own peculiar existence; otherwise he is apt\nto complain of confusion, and final causes vanish: he then attributes to\nan immutable God, motives equally borrowed from his own peculiar mode\nof action, for deranging the beautiful order he so much admires in the\nuniverse. Thus it is always in himself, that is, in his own individual\nmode of feeling, that he draws up the ideas of the order, the wisdom,\nthe excellence, the perfection which he ascribes to the Deity; whilst\nthe good as well as the evil which take place in the world, are\nthe necessary consequence of the essence of things; of the general,\nimmutable laws of nature; in short, of the gravitation, of the repulsion\nof matter; of those unchangeable laws of motion, which Newton himself\nhas so ably thrown into light; but which he has by a strange fatuity\nforborne to apply when the question was concerning the cause of these\nphenomena, which prejudice has refused to the capabilities of nature. He\ngoes on, \"We revere, and we adore God, on account of his sovereignty:\nwe worship him like his slaves; a God destitute of sovereignty, of\nprovidence, and of final causes, would be no more than nature and\ndestiny.\" It is true that superstition enjoins man to adore its gods\nlike ignorant slaves, who tremble under a master whom they know not; he\ncertainly prays to them on all occasions, sometimes requesting nothing\nless than an entire change in the essence of things, to gratify\nhis capricious desires, and it is perhaps well for him they are not\ncompetent to grant his request: in the origin, as we have shewn, these\ngods were nothing more than nature acting by necessary laws, clothed\nunder a variety of fables; or necessity personified under a multitude of\nnames. However this may be, we do not believe that true religion,\nthat sterling worship which renders man grateful, whilst it exalts the\nmajesty of the Divinity, requires any such meanness from man that\nhe should act like a slave; he is rather expected to sit down to the\nbanquet prepared for him, with all the dignity of an invited guest;\nunder the cheering consciousness of a welcome that is never accorded\nto slaves; nothing is required at his hands, but that he should conduct\nhimself temperately in the banquetting-house; that he should be grateful\nfor the good cheer he receives; that he should have virtue; (which we\nhave already sufficiently explained is to render himself useful, by\nmaking others happy); that he should not by pertinaciously setting up\nwhimsical opinions, and insisting on their adoption by his neighbour,\ndisturb the harmony of the feast; that he should be sufficiently\nintelligent to know when he is really felicitous, and not seek to put\ndown the gaiety of his fellow guests; but that he should rise from\nthe board satisfied with himself, contented with others; in short, to\ncomprise the whole in a trite axiom of one of the Greek philosophers, he\nshould learn the invaluable secret, \"to _bear_ and _forbear_.\"\n\nBut to proceed. Newton tells us, \"that from a physical and blind\nnecessity, which should preside every where, and be always the same,\nthere could not emanate any variety in the beings; the diversity which\nwe behold, could only have its origin in the ideas and in the will of a\nbeing which exists necessarily;\" but wherefore should not this diversity\nspring out of natural causes, from matter acting upon matter; the action\nof which either attracts and combines various yet analogous elements, or\nelse separates beings by the intervention of those substances which have\nnot a disposition to unite? Is not bread the result of the combination\nof flour, yeast and water? As for the blind necessity, as it is\nelsewhere said, we must acknowledge it is that of which we are ignorant,\neither of its properties or its energies; of which being blind ourselves\nwe have no knowledge of its mode of action. Philosophers explain all the\nphenomena that occur by the properties of matter; and though they feel\nthe want of a more intimate acquaintance with natural causes, they do\nnot therefore the less believe them deducible from these properties or\nthese causes. Are, therefore, the philosophers atheists, because they\ndo not reply, it is God who is the author of these effects? Is the\nindustrious workman, who makes gunpowder, to be challenged as an\natheist, because he says the terrible effects of this destructive\nmaterial, which inspired the native Americans with such awe, which\nraised in their winds such wonder, are to be ascribed to the junction of\nthe apparently harmless substances of nitre, charcoal and sulpher, set\nin activity by the accession of trivial scintillations, produced from\nthe collision of steel with flint, merely because some bigoted _Priest\nof the Sun_, who is ignorant of the composition, chooses to think it is\nnot possible such a striking phenomenon could be the work of any thing\nshort of the secret agents, whom he has himself appointed to govern the\nworld?\n\n\"It is allegorically said that God sees, hears, speaks, smiles, loves,\nhates, desires, gives, receives, rejoices, grows angry, fights, makes,\nor fashions, &c. because all that is said of God, is borrowed from the\nconduct of man, by an imperfect analogy.\" Man has not been able to act\notherwise, for want of being acquainted with nature and her eternal\ncourse: whenever he has imagined a peculiar energy which he has not been\nable to fathom, he has given it the name of God; and he has then made\nhim act upon the self-same principles, as he himself would adopt,\naccording to which he would act if he was the master. It is from this\nproneness to _Theanthropy_, that has flowed all those absurd, and\nfrequently dangerous ideas, upon which are founded the superstitions of\nthe world; who all adore in their gods either natural causes of which\nthey are ignorant, or else powerful mortals of whose malice they stand\nin awe. The sequel will shew the fatal effects that have resulted\nto mankind from the absurd ideas they have very frequently formed to\nthemselves of the Divinity; that nothing could be more degrading to\nhim, more injurious to themselves, than the idea of comparing him to\nan absolute sovereign, to a despot, to a tyrant. For the present let\nus continue to examine the proofs offered in support of their various\nsystems.\n\nIt is unceasingly repeated that the regular action, the invariable\norder, which reigns in the universe, the benefits heaped upon mortals,\nannounce a wisdom, an intelligence, a goodness, which we cannot refuse\nto acknowledge, in the cause which produces these marvellous effects. To\nthis we must reply, that it is unquestionably true that not only these\nthings, but all the phenomena he beholds, indicate the existence of\nsomething gifted very superiorly to erring man; the great question,\nhowever, is one that perhaps will never be solved, what is this being?\nIs this question answered by heaping together the estimable qualities\nof man? Speaking with relation to ourselves, which is all that the\ntheologian really does, although in such numerous regions he pretends\nto do a great deal more, we can apply the terms goodness, wisdom,\nintelligence, the best with which we are acquainted, to this being for\nthe want of having those that may be appropriate; but I maintain, this\ndoes not, in point of fact, afford us one single idea of the _Great\nCause of causes_; we admire his works; and knowing that what we approve\nhighly in our own species, we attribute to their being wise, we say the\nDivinity displays wisdom. So far it is well; but this, after all, is a\nhuman quality. If we consult experience, we shall presently be convinced\nthat our wisdom does not bear the least affinity to the actions\nattributed to the Divinity. To get at this a little closer, we must\nendeavour to find out what we do not call wisdom in man; this will help\nus to form an estimate, how very incompetent we are to describe the\nqualities of a being that differs so very materially from ourselves.\nWe most certainly should not call him a wise man, who having built a\nbeautiful residence, should himself set it on fire; and thus destroy\nwhat he had laboured so much to bring to perfection: yet this happens\nevery day in nature, without its being in any manner a warrantry for\nus to charge her with folly. If therefore we were to form our judgments\nafter our own puny ideas of wisdom, what should we say? Why, in point\nof fact, just what the man does, who, thinking he has had too much rain,\nimplores fine weather? Which, properly translated, is neither more nor\nless than giving the Divinity to understand he best knows what is proper\nfor himself. The just, the only fair inference to be drawn from this,\nis, that we positively know nothing about the matter; that those who\npretend they do, would, if it was upon any other subject, he suspected\nof having an unsound mind. We do not mean to insist that we are in the\nright, but we mean to aver that the object of this work is not so much\neither to build up new systems, or to put down old ones, as by shewing\nman the inconclusiveness of his reasonings upon matters not accessible\nto his comprehension--to induce him to be more tolerant to his\nneighbour--to invite him to be less rancorous against those who do not\nsee with his eyes--to hold forth to him motives for forbearance, against\nthose whose system of faith may not exactly harmonize with his own--to\nrender him less ferocious in support of opinions, which, if he will\nbut discard his prejudices, he may find not so solidly bottomed as he\nimagines. All we know is scarcely more than that the motion we witness\nin the universe is the necessary consequence of the laws of matter; that\nthe uniformity of this motion is evidence of their immutability; that it\nis not too much to say it cannot cease to act in the manner it does, as\nlong as the same causes operate, governed by the same circumstances.\nWe evidently see that motion, however regular in our mind, that order,\nhowever beautiful to our admiring optics, yields to what we term\ndisorder, to that which we designate frightful confusion, as soon as new\ncauses, not analogous to the preceding, either disturb or suspend\ntheir action. We further know that a better knowledge of nature,\nthe consequence of time, the result of patient, laborious, physical\nresearches, with the comparison of facts and the application of\nexperience, has enabled man in many instances to divert from himself the\nevil effects of inevitable causes, which anterior to these discoveries\noverwhelmed his unhappy progenitors with ruin. How far these salutary\ndevelopements are to be carried by industry, what may be achieved by\nhonesty, what light is to be gathered from the recession of prejudice,\nthe wisest among men is not competent to decide. Certain it is, that\nphenomena which for ages were supposed to denounce the anger of the\nDeity against mankind, are now well understood to be common effects of\nnatural causes.\n\nOrder, as we have elsewhere shewn, is only the effects which result\nto ourselves from a series of motion; there cannot be any disorder\nrelatively to the great whole; in which all that takes place is\nnecessary; in which every thing is determined by laws which nothing can\nchange. The order of nature may be damaged or destroyed relatively to\nourselves, but it is never contradicted relatively to herself, since she\ncannot act otherwise than she does: if we attribute to her the evils we\nsustain, we are equally obliged to acknowledge we owe to her the good we\nexperience.\n\nIt in said, that animals furnish a convincing proof of the powerful\ncause of their existence; that the admirable harmony of their parts, the\nmutual assistance they lend each other, the regularity with which\nthey fulfill their functions, the preservation of these parts, the\nconservation of such complicated wholes, announce a workman who unites\nwisdom with power; in short, whole tracts of anatomy and botany have\nbeen copied to prove nothing more than that these things exist, for of\nthe power that produced them there cannot remain a doubt. We shall never\nlearn more from these erudite tracts, save that there exists in nature\ncertain elements with an aptitude to attraction; a disposition to unite,\nsuitable to form wholes, to induce combinations capable of producing\nvery striking effects. To be surprised that the brain, the heart, the\narteries, the veins, the eyes, the ears of an animal, act as we see\nthem--that the roots of plants attract juices, or that trees produce\nfruit, is to be surprised that a tree, a plant, or an animal exists at\nall. These beings would not exist, or would no longer be that which we\nknow they are, if they ceased to act as they do: this is what happens\nwhen they die. If the formation, the combination, the modes of action,\nvariously possessed by these beings, if their conservation for a season,\nfollowed by their destruction or dissolution, prove any thing, it is the\nimmutability of those laws which operate in nature: we cannot doubt\nthe power of nature; she produces all the animals we behold, by the\ncombination, of matter, continually in motion; the harmony that subsists\nbetween the component parts of these beings, is a consequence of the\nnecessary laws of their nature, and of that which results from their\ncombination. As soon as this accord ceases, the animal is necessarily\ndestroyed: from this we must conclude that every mutation in nature\nis necessary; is only a consequence of its laws; that it could not be\notherwise than it is, under the circumstances in which it is placed.\n\nMan, who looks upon himself as the _chef d'oeuvre_, furnishes more than\nany other production a proof of the immutability of the laws of nature:\nin this sensible, intelligent, thinking being, whose vanity leads him\nto believe himself the sole object of the divine predilection, who forms\nhis God after his own peculiar model, we see only a more inconstant,\na more brittle machine; one more subject to be deranged by its\nextreme complication, than the grosser beings: beasts destitute of our\nknowledge, plants that vegetate, stones devoid of feeling, are in many\nrespects beings more highly favored than man: they are at least exempted\nfrom the sorrows of the mind--from the torments of reflection--from that\ndevouring, chagrin to which he is so frequently a prey. Who is he who\nwould not be a plant or a stone, every time reminiscence forces upon his\nimagination the irreparable loss of a beloved object? Would it not\nbe better to be an inanimate mass, than a restless, turbulent,\nsuperstitious being, who does nothing but tremble under the imaginary\ndispleasure of beings of his own creation; who to support his own gloomy\nopinions, immolates his fellow creatures at the shrine of his idol; who\nravages the country, and deluges the earth with the blood of those who\nhappen to differ from him on a speculative point of an unintelligible\ncreed? Beings destitute of life, bereft of feeling, without memory, not\nhaving the faculties of thought, at least are not afflicted by the idea\nof either the past, the present, or the future; they do not at any rate\nbelieve themselves in danger of becoming eternally unhappy, because they\nway have reasoned badly; or because they happened to be born in a land\nwhere truth has never yet shed its refulgent beams on the darkened mind\nof perplexed mortals.\n\nLet it not then be said that we cannot have an idea of a work, without\nalso having an idea of the workman, as distinguished from his work: the\nsavage, when he first beheld the terrible operation of gunpowder,\ndid not form the most distant idea that it was the work of a man like\nhimself. Nature is not to be contemplated as a work of this kind; she is\nself-existent. In her bosom every thing is produced: she is an immense\nelaboratory, provided with materials, who makes the instruments of which\nshe avails herself in her operations. All her works are the effects of\nher own energies; of those agents which she herself produces; of those\nimmutable laws by which she sets every thing in activity. Eternal,\nindestructible elements, ever in motion, combine themselves variously,\nand thus give birth to all beings, to all the phenomena which fill the\nweak eyes of erring mortals with wonder and dismay; to all the effects,\nwhether good or bad, of which man experiences the influence; to all the\nvicissitudes he undergoes, from the moment of his birth until that of\nhis death; to order and to confusion, which he never discriminates but\nby the various modes in which he is affected: in short, to all those\nmiraculous spectacles with which he occupies his meditation--upon which\nhe exercises his reason--which frequently spread consternation over the\nsurface of the earth. These elements need nothing when circumstances\nfavour their junction, save their own peculiar properties, whether\nindividual or united, with the motion that is essential to them, to\nproduce all those phenomena which powerfully striking the senses of\nmankind, either fill him with admiration, or stagger him with alarm.\n\nBut supposing for a moment that it was impossible to conceive the work,\nwithout also conceiving the workman, who watches over his work, where\nmust we place this workman? Shall it be interior or exterior to his\nproduction? Is he matter and motion, or is he only space or the vacuum?\nIn all these cases either he would be nothing, or he would be contained\nin nature: as nature contains only matter and motion, it must be\nconcluded that the agent who moves it is material; that he is corporeal;\nif this agent be exterior to nature, then we can no longer form any\nidea of the place which he occupieth: neither can we better conceive an\nimmaterial being; nor the mode in which a spirit without extent can\nact upon matter from which it is separated. These unknown spaces, which\nimagination has placed beyond the visible world, can have no existence\nfor a being, who with difficulty sees down to his feet; he cannot paint\nto his mind any image of the power which inhabit them; but if he is\ncompelled to form some kind of a picture, he must combine at random the\nfantastical colours which he is ever obliged to draw from the world he\ninhabits: in this case he will really do no more than reproduce in idea,\npart or parcels of that which he has actually seen; he will form a whole\nwhich perhaps has no existence in nature, but which it will be in vain\nhe strives to distinguish from her; to place out of her bosom. When he\nshall be ingenuous with himself, When he shall be no longer willing to\ndelude others, he will be obliged to acknowledge, that the portrait he\nhas painted, although in its combination it resembles nothing in the\nuniverse, is nevertheless in all its constituent members an exact\ndelineation of that which nature presents to our view. Hobbes in his\n_Leviathan_ says, \"The universe, the whole mass of things, is corporeal,\nthat is to say, body; and hath the dimensions of magnitude, namely,\nlength, breadth, and depth: also every part of body is likewise body,\nand hath the like dimensions; and consequently every part of the\nuniverse is body; and that which is not body, is no part of the\nuniverse; and because the universe is all, that which is no part of it\nis nothing; and consequently no where: nor does it follow from hence,\nthat spirits are nothing, for they have dimensions, and are therefore\nreally bodies; though that name in common speech be given to such bodies\nonly as are visible, or palpable, that is, that have some degree of\nopacity: but for spirits they call them incorporeal; which is a name\nof more honour, and may therefore with more piety be attributed to God\nhimself, in whom we consider not what attribute expresseth best his\nnature, which is incomprehensible; but what best expresseth our desire\nto honour him.\"\n\nIt will be insisted that if a statue or a watch were shewn to a savage,\nwho had never before seen either, he would not be able to prevent\nhimself from acknowledging that these things were the works of some\nintelligent agent of greater ability, possessing more industry than\nhimself: it will be concluded from thence, that we are in like manner\nobliged to acknowledge that the universe, that man, that the various\nphenomena, are the works of an agent, whose intelligence is more\ncomprehensive, whose power far surpasses our own. Granted: who has ever\ndoubted it? the proposition is self-evident; it cannot admit of even a\ncavil. Nevertheless we reply, in the _first place_, that it is not to\nbe doubted that nature is extremely powerful; diligently industrious:\nwe admire her activity every time we are surprised by the extent, every\ntime we contemplate the variety, every time we behold those complicated\neffects which are displayed in her works; or whenever we take the pains\nto meditate upon them: nevertheless, she is not really more industrious\nin one of her works than she is in another; she is not fathomed with\nmore ease in those we call her most contemptible productions, than she\nis in her most sublime efforts: we no more understand how she has been\ncapable of producing a stone or a metal, than the means by which she\norganized a head like that of the illustrious Newton. We call that\nman industrious who can accomplish things which we cannot; nature is\ncompetent to every thing: as soon therefore as a thing exists, it is a\nproof she has been capable of producing it: but it is never more than\nrelatively to ourselves that we judge beings to be industrious: we\nthen compare them to ourselves; and as we enjoy a quality which we call\nintelligence, by the assistance of which we accomplish things, by which\nwe display our diligence, we naturally conclude from it, that those\nworks which most astonish us, do not belong to her, but are to be\nascribed to an intelligent being like ourselves, but in whom we make the\nintelligence commensurate with the astonishment these phenomena excite\nin us; that is to say, in other words, to our own peculiar ignorance,\nand the weakness incident to our nature.\n\nIn the _second place_, we must observe, that the savage, to whom either\nthe statue or the watch is brought, will or will not have ideas of human\nindustry: if he has ideas of it, he will feel that this watch or\nthis statue, way be the work of a being of his own species, enjoying\nfaculties of which he is himself deficient: if he has no idea of it, if\nhe has no comprehension of the resources of human art, when he beholds\nthe spontaneous motion of the watch, he will be impressed with the\nbelief that it is an animal, which cannot be the work of man. Multiplied\nexperience confirms this mode of thinking which is ascribed to the\nsavage. The Peruvians mistook the Spaniards for gods, because they made\nuse of gunpowder, rode on horseback, and came in vessels which sailed\nquite alone. The inhabitants of the island of Tenian being ignorant\nof fire before the arrival of Europeans, the first time they saw it,\nconceived it to be an animal who devoured the wood. Thus it is, that the\nsavage, in the same manner as many great and learned men, who believe\nthemselves much more acute, will attribute the strange effects that\nstrike his organs, to a genius or to a spirit; that is to say, to an\nunknown power; to whom he will ascribe capabilities of which he believes\nthe beings of his own species are entirely destitute: by this he will\nprove nothing, except that he is himself ignorant of what man is capable\nof producing. It is thus that a raw unpolished people raise their eyes\nto heaven, every time they witness some unusual phenomenon. It is thus\nthat the people denominate all those strange effects, with the natural\ncauses of which they are ignorant, miraculous, supernatural, divine; but\nthese are not by reasonable persons therefore considered proofs of what\nthey assert: as the multitude are generally unacquainted with the cause\nof any thing, every object becomes a miracle in their eyes; at least\nthey imagine God is the immediate cause of the good they enjoy--of the\nevil they suffer. In short, it is thus that the theologians themselves\nsolve every difficulty that starts in their road; they ascribe to God\nall those phenomena, of the causes of which either they are themselves\nignorant, or else unwilling that man should be acquainted with the\nsource.\n\nIn the _third place_, the savage, in opening the watch, and examining\nits parts, will perhaps feel, that this machinery announces a work which\ncan only be the result of human labour. He will perhaps perceive, that\nthey very obviously differ from the immediate productions of nature,\nwhom he has not observed to produce wheels made of polished metal. He\nwill further notice, perhaps, that these parts when separated, no longer\nact as they did when they were combined; that the motion he so much\nadmired, ceases when their union is broken. After these observations, he\nwill attribute the watch to the ingenuity of man; that is to say, to\na being like himself, of whom he has some ideas, but whom he\njudges capable to construct machines to which he is himself utterly\nincompetent. In short, he will ascribe the honour of his watch to a\nbeing known to him in some respects, provided with faculties very far\nsuperior to his own; but he will be at an immense distance from the\nbelief, that this material work, whose ingenuity pleases him so much,\ncan be the effect of an immaterial cause; or of an agent destitute of\norgans, without extent; whose action upon material beings cannot be\nwithin, the sphere of his comprehension. Nevertheless, man, when he\ncannot embrace the causes of things, does not scruple to insist that\nthey are impossible to be the production of nature, although he is\nentirely ignorant how far the powers of this nature extend; to what\nher capabilities are equal. In viewing the world, we must acknowledge\nmaterial causes for many of those phenomena which take place in it;\nthose who study nature are continually adding fresh discoveries to\nthis list of physical causes; science, as she enriches the intellectual\nstores of human enjoyment, every day throws a broader light on the\nenergies of nature, which _prejudice_, aided by its almost inseparable\ncompanion, _ignorance_, would for ever bind down in the fetters of\nimpotence.\n\nLet us not, however, be told, that pursuing this hypothesis, we\nattribute every thing to a blind cause--to the fortuitous concurrence\nof atoms--to chance. Those only are called blind causes of which we know\nnot either the combination, the laws, or the power. Those effects are\ncalled fortuitous, with whose causes man is unacquainted; to which his\nexperience affords him no clue; which his ignorance prevents him from\nforeseeing. All those effects, of which he does not see the necessary\nconnection with their causes, he attributes to chance. Nature is not a\nblind cause; she never acts by chance; nothing that she does would\never be considered fortuitous, by him who should understand her mode of\naction--who had a knowledge of her resources--who was intelligent in her\nways. Every thing that she produces is strictly necessary--is never more\nthan a consequence of her eternal, immutable laws; all is connected in\nher by invisible bonds; every effect we witness flows necessarily from\nits cause, whether we are in a condition to fathom it, or whether we are\nobliged to let it remain hidden from our view. It is very possible there\nshould be ignorance on our part; but the words spirit, intelligence,\nwill not remedy this ignorance; they will rather redouble it, by\narresting our research; by preventing us from conquering those\nimpediments which obstruct us in probing the natural causes of the\neffects, with which our visual faculties bring us acquainted.\n\nThis may serve for an answer to the clamour of those who raise perpetual\nobjections to the partizans of nature, by unceasingly accusing them with\nattributing every thing to chance. Chance is a word devoid of sense,\nwhich furnishes no substantive idea; at least it indicates only the\nignorance of its employers. Nevertheless, we are triumphantly told, it\nis reiterated continually, that a regular work cannot be ascribed to the\nconcurrence of chance. Never, we are informed, will it be possible to\narrive at the formation of a poem such as the Iliad, by means of letters\nthrown together promiscuously or combined at random. We agree to it\nwithout hesitation; but, ingenuously, are the letters which compose a\npoem thrown with the hand in the manner of dice? It would avail as much\nto say, we could not pronounce a discourse with the feet. It is nature,\nwho combines according to necessary laws, under given circumstances, a\nhead organized in a mode suitable to bring forth a poem: it is nature\nwho assembles the elements, which furnish man with a brain competent to\ngive birth to such a work: it is nature, who, through the medium of the\nimagination, by means of the passions, in consequence of the temperament\nwhich she bestows upon man, capacitates him to produce such a\nmasterpiece of fancy; such a never-fading effort of the mind: it is his\nbrain modified in a certain manner, crowded with ideas, decorated with\nimages, made fruitful by circumstances, that alone can become the matrix\nin which a poem can be conceived--in which the matter of it can be\ndigested: this is the only womb whose activity could usher to an\nadmiring world, the sublime stanzas which develope the story of the\nunfortunate Priam, and immortalize their author. A head organized like\nthat of Homer, furnished with the same vigour, glowing with the same\nvivid imagination, enriched with the same erudition, placed under the\nsame circumstances, would necessarily, and not by chance, produce the\npoem of the Iliad; at least, unless it be denied that causes similar in\nevery thing must produce effects perfectly identical. We should without\ndoubt be surprised, if there were in a dice-box a hundred thousand dice,\nto see a hundred thousand sixes follow in succession; but if these dice\nwere all cogged or loaded, our surprise would cease: the particles of\nmatter may be compared to cogged dice, that is to say, always producing\ncertain determinate effects under certain given circumstances; these\nparticles being essentially varied in themselves, countless in their\ncombinations, they are cogged in myriads of different modes. The head\nof Homer, or of Virgil, was no more than an assemblage of particles,\npossessing peculiar properties; or if they will, of dice cogged by\nnature; that is to say, of beings so combined, of matter so wrought, as\nto produce the beautiful poems of the Iliad or the Aeneid. As much may\nbe said of all other productions: indeed, what are men themselves but\ncogged dice--machines into which nature has infused the bias requisite\nto produce effects of a certain description? A man of genius produces a\ngood work, in the same manner as a tree of a good species, placed in\na prolific soil, cultivated with care, grafted with judgment, produces\nexcellent fruit.\n\nThen is it not either knavery or puerility, to talk of composing a\nwork by scattering letters with the hand; by promiscuously mingling\ncharacters; or gathering together by chance, that which can only result\nfrom a human brain, with a peculiar organization, modified after a\ncertain manner? The principle of human generation does not develope\nitself by chance; it cannot be nourished with effect, expanded into\nlife, but in the womb of a woman: a confused heap of characters, a\njumble of symbols, is nothing more than an assemblage of signs, whose\nproper arrangement is adequate to paint human ideas; but in order that\nthese ideas may be correctly delineated, it is previously requisite that\nthey should have been conceived, combined, nourished, connected,\nand developed in the brain of a poet; where circumstances make them\nfructify, mature them, and bring them forth in perfection, by reason of\nthe fecundity, generated by the genial warmth and the peculiar energy\nof the matrix, in which these intellectual seeds shall have been placed.\nIdeas in combining, expanding, connecting, and associating themselves,\nform a whole, like all the other bodies of nature: this whole affords\nus pleasure, becomes a source of enjoyment, when it gives birth to\nagreeable sensations in the mind; when it offers to our examination\npictures calculated to move us in a lively manner. It is thus that the\nhistory of the Trojan war, as digested in the head of Homer, ushered\ninto the world with all the fascinating harmony of numbers peculiar to\nhimself, has the power of giving a pleasurable impulse to heads, who by\ntheir analogy with that of this incomparable Grecian, are in a capacity\nto feel its beauties.\n\nFrom this it will be obvious, that nothing can be produced by chance;\nthat no effect can exist without an adequate cause for its existence;\nthat the one must ever be commensurate with the other. All the works of\nnature grow out of the uniform action of invariable laws, whether our\nmind can with facility follow the concatenation of the successive causes\nwhich operate; or whether, as in her more complicated productions,\nwe find ourselves in the impossibility of distinguishing the various\nsprings which she sets in motion to give birth to her phenomena. To\nnature, the difficulty is not more to produce a great poet, capable of\nwriting an admirable poem, than to form a glittering stone or a shining\nmetal which gravitates towards a centre. The mode she adopts to give\nbirth to these various beings, is equally unknown to us, when we have\nnot meditated upon it; frequently the most sedulous attention, the most\npatient investigation affords us no information; sometimes, however,\nthe unwearied industry of the philosopher is rewarded, by throwing into\nlight the most mysterious operations. Thus the keen penetration of a\nNewton, aided by uncommon diligence, developed the starry system,\nwhich, for so many thousand years, had eluded the research of all the\nastronomers by whom he was preceded. Thus the sagacity of a Harvey\ngiving vigour to his application, brought out of the obscurity in which\nfor almost countless centuries it had been buried, the true course\npursued by the sanguinary fluid, when circulating through the veins and\narteries of man, giving activity to his machine, diffusing life\nthrough his system, and enabling him to perform those actions which\nso frequently strike an astonished world with wonder and regret. Thus\nGallileo, by a quickness of perception, a depth of reasoning peculiar to\nhimself, held up to an admiring world, the actual form and situation of\nthe planet we inhabit; which until then had escaped the observation of\nthe most profound geniuses--the most subtle metaphysicians--the\nwhole host of priests; which when first promulgated was considered\nso extraordinary, so contradictory to all the then received opinions,\neither sacred or profane, that he was ranked as an atheist, as an\nimpious blasphemer, to hold communion with whom, would secure to the\ncommuners a place in the regions of everlasting torment; in short, it\nwas held an heresy of such an indelible dye, that notwithstanding the\ninfallibility of his sacred function, Pope Gregory, who then filled the\npapal chair, excommunicated all those who had the temerity to accredit\nso abominable a doctrine.\n\nMan is born by the necessary concurrence of those elements suitable to\nhis construction; he increases in bulk, corroborates his system, expands\nhis powers, in the same manner as a plant or a stone; which as well\nas himself, are augmented in their volume, invigorated in their\ncapabilities, by the addition of homogeneous matter, that exists within\nthe sphere of their attraction. Man feels, thinks, receives ideas,\nacts after a certain manner, that is to say, according to his organic\nstructure, which is peculiar to himself; that renders him susceptible of\nmodifications, of which the stone and the plant are utterly incapable.\nOn the other hand, the organization of these beings is of a nature\nto enable them to receive other modifications, which man is not more\ncapacitated to experience, than the stone or the plant are those which\nconstitute him what he is. In consequence of this peculiar arrangement,\nthe man of genius produces works of merit; the plant when it is healthy\nyields delicious fruits the stone when it is placed in a suitable matrix\npossesses a glittering brilliance which dazzles the eyes of mortals;\neach in their sphere of action both surprise and delight us; because we\nfeel that they excite in us sensations, that harmonize with what we call\norder; in consequence of the pleasure they infuse, by the rarity, by the\nmagnitude, and by the variety of the effects which they occasion us\nto experience. Nevertheless, that which is found most admirable in the\nproductions of nature, that which is most esteemed in the actions of\nman, most highly valued in animals, most sought after in vegetation,\nmost in request among fossils, is never more than the natural effects\nof the different particles of matter, diversely arranged, variously\ncombined, submitted to numerous modifications; from matter thus united\nresult organs, brains, temperament, taste, talents, all the multifarious\nproperties, all the multitudinous qualities, which discriminate the\nbeings whose multiplied activity make up the sum of what is designated\nanimated nature.\n\nNature then produces nothing but what is necessary; it is not by\nfortuitous combinations, by chance throws, that she exhibits to our\nview the beings we behold; all her throws are sure, all the causes\nshe employs have infallibly their effects. Whenever she gives birth to\nextraordinary, marvellous, rare beings, it is, that the requisite order\nof things the concurrence of the necessary productive causes, happens\nbut seldom. As soon as those beings exist, they are to be ascribed to\nnature, equally with the most familiar of her productions; to nature\nevery thing is equally possible, equally facile, when she assembles\ntogether the instruments or the causes necessary to act. Thus it seems\npresumption in man to set limits to the powers of nature, which he so\nvery imperfectly understands. The combinations, or if they will, the\nthrows that she makes in an eternity of existence, can easily produce\nall the beings that have existed: her eternal march must necessarily\nbring forth, again and again, the most astonishing circumstances; the\nmost rare occurrences; those most calculated to rouse the wonder, to\nelicit the admiration of beings, who are only in a condition to give\nthem a momentary consideration; who can get nothing more than a glimpse,\nwithout ever having either the leisure or the means to search into\ncauses, which lie hid from their weak eyes, in the depths of Cimmerian\nobscurity. Countless throws during eternity, with elements and\ncombinations varied almost to infinity, quite with relation to man,\nsuffice to produce every thing of which he has a knowledge, with\nmultitudes of other effects, of which he will never have the least\nconception.\n\nThus, we cannot too often repeat to the metaphysicians, to the\nsupporters of immateriality, to the inconsistent theologians, who\ncommonly ascribe to their adversaries the most ridiculous opinions, in\norder to obtain an easy, short-lived triumph in the prejudiced eyes\nof the multitude; or in the stagnant minds of those who never examine\ndeeply; that chance is nothing but a word, as well as many other words,\nimagined solely to cover the ignorance of those to whom the course of\nnature is inexplicable--to shield the idleness of others who are too\nslothful to seek into the properties of acting causes. It is not chance\nthat has produced the universe, it is self-existent; nature exists\nnecessarily from all eternity: she is omnipotent because every thing\nis produced by her energies; she is omnipresent, because she fills\nall space; she is omniscient, because every thing can only be what\nit actually is; she is immovable, because as a whole she cannot be\ndisplaced; she is immutable, because her essence cannot change, although\nher forms may vary; she is infinite, because she cannot have any bounds;\nshe is all perfect, because she contains every thing: in short, she has\nall the abstract qualities of the metaphysician, all the moral faculties\nof the theologian, without involving any contradiction, since that which\nis the assemblage of all, must of necessity contain the properties of\nall.\n\nHowever concealed may be her ways, the existence of nature is\nindubitable; her mode of action is in some respects known to us.\nExperience amply demonstrates we might, if we were more industrious,\nbecome better acquainted with her secrets; but with an immaterial\nsubstance, with a pure spirit, the mind of man can never become\nfamiliar: he has no means by which he can picture to himself this\nincomprehensible, this inconceivable quality: in despite therefore of\nthe roundness of assertion adopted by the theologian, notwithstanding\nall the subtilties of the metaphysician, it will always be for man,\nwhile he remains such as he now is, in the language of Doctor Samuel\nClarke, that, _of which nothing can with truth be affirmed_.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VI.\n\n_Of Pantheism; or of the Natural Ideas of the Divinity._\n\n\nThe false principle that matter is not self-existent; that by its nature\nit is in an impossibility to move itself; consequently incompetent to\nthe production of those striking phenomena which arrest our wondering\neyes in the wide expanse of the universe; it will be obvious, to all who\nseriously attend to what has preceded, is the origin of the proofs\nupon which theology rests the existence of immateriality. After these\nsuppositions, as gratuitous as they are erroneous, the fallacy of which\nwe have exposed elsewhere, it has been believed that matter did not\nalways exist, but that its existence, as well as its motion, is a\nproduction of time; due to a cause distinguished from itself; to an\nunknown agent to whom it is subordinate. As man finds in his own species\na quality which he calls intelligence, which presides over all his\nactions, by the aid of which he arrives at the end he proposes to\nhimself; he has clothed this invisible agent with this quality, which\nhe has extended beyond the limits of his own conception: he magnified it\nthus, because, having made him the author of effects of which he found\nhimself incapable, he did not conceive it possible that the intelligence\nhe himself possessed, unless it was prodigiously amplified, would\nbe sufficient to account for those productions, to which his erring\njudgment led him to conclude the natural energy of physical causes were\nnot adequate.\n\nAs this agent was invisible, as his mode of action was inconceivable, he\nmade him a spirit, a word that really means nothing more than that he\nis ignorant of his essence, or that he acts like the breath of which\nhe cannot trace the motion. Thus, in speaking of spirituality, he\ndesignated an occult quality, which he deemed suitable to a concealed\nbeing, whose mode of action was always imperceptible to the senses. It\nwould appear, however, that originally the word spirit was not meant to\ndesignate immateriality; but a matter of a more subtile nature than\nthat which acted coarsely on the organs: still of a nature capable\nof penetrating the grosser matter--of communicating to it\nmotion--of instilling into it active life--of giving birth to those\ncombinations--of imparting to them those modifications, which his\norganic structure rendered him competent to discover. Such was, as\nhas been shewn, that all-powerful Jupiter, who in the theology of the\nancients, was originally destined to represent the etherial, subtile\nmatter that penetrates, vivifies, and gives activity to all the bodies\nof which nature is the common assemblage.\n\nIt would be grossly deceiving ourselves to believe that the idea of\nspirituality, such as the subtilty of dreaming metaphysicians present it\nin these days, was that which offered itself to our forefathers in the\nearly stages of the human mind. This immateriality, which excludes all\nanalogy with any thing but itself--which bears no resemblance to any\nthing of which man is capacitated to have a knowledge, was, as we have\nalready observed, the slow, the tardy fruit of his imagination, after\nhe had quitted experience, and renounced his reason. Men reared in\nluxurious leisure, unceasingly meditating, without the assistance\nof those natural helps with which attentive observation would\nhave furnished them, by degrees arrived at the formation of this\nincomprehensible quality, which is so fugitive, that although man has\nbeen compelled to reverence it, to accredit it against all the evidence\nof his senses, they have never yet been enabled to give any other\nexplanation of its nature, than by using a term to which it is\nimpossible to attach any intelligible idea. Seraphis said, with tears\nin his eyes, \"that in making him adopt the opinion of spirituality, they\nhad deprived him of his God.\" Many fathers of the church have given a\nhuman form to the Divinity, and treated all those as heretics who made\nhim spiritual. Thus by dint of reasoning, by force of subtilizing, the\nword spirit no longer presents any one image upon which the mind can fix\nitself; when they are desirous to speak of it, it becomes impossible\nto understand them, seeing that each visionary paints it after his own\nmanner; and in the portrait he forms, consults only his own temperament,\nfollows nothing but his own imagination, adopts nothing but his own\npeculiar reveries; the only point in which they are at all in unison, is\nin assigning to it inconceivable qualities, which they naturally\nenough believe are best suited to the incomprehensible beings they have\ndelineated: from the incompatible heap of these qualities, generally\nresulted a whole, whose existence they thus rendered impossible. In\nshort, this word, which has occupied the research of so many learned and\nintelligent men; which is considered of such importance to mankind, has\nbeen, in consequence of theological reveries, always fluctuating:\nthese never bearing the least resemblance to each other, it has become\ndestitute of any fixed sense, a mere sound, to which each who echoes it\naffixes his own peculiar ideas, which are never in harmony with those of\nhis neighbour; which indeed are not even steady in himself, but like\nthe camelion, assume the colour of every differing circumstance. This\nunintelligible word has been substituted for the more intelligible\none of matter; man, when clothed with power, has entertained the most\nrancorous antipathies, pursued the most barbarous persecutions, against\nthose who have not been enabled to contemplate this changeable idea\nunder the same point of view with himself.\n\nThere have, however, been men who had sufficient courage to resist this\ntorrent of opinion--to oppose themselves to this delirium; who have\nbelieved, that the object which was announced as the most important\nfor mortals, as the sole object worthy of their thoughts, demanded an\nattentive examination; who apprehended that if experience could be of\nany utility, if judgment could afford any advantage, if reason was of\nany use whatever, it must, most unquestionably be, to consider this\nquality so opposed to every thing in nature, which was said to regulate\nall the beings which she contains. These quickly saw they could not\nsubscribe to the general opinion of the uninformed, who never examine\nany thing, who take every thing upon the credit of others; much less was\nit consistent with sound sense to agree with their guides, who, either\ndeceivers or deceived, forbade others to submit it to the scrutiny of\nreason; who were themselves frequently in an utter incapacity to pass it\nunder such an ordeal. Thus some thinkers, disgusted with the obscure\nand contradictory notions which others had through habit mechanically\nattached to this incomprehensible property, had the temerity to shake\noff the yoke which had been imposed upon them from their infancy:\ncalling reason to their aid against those terrors with which they\nalarmed the ignorant, revolting at the hideous descriptions under which\nthey attempted to defend their hypothesis, they had the intrepidity to\ntear the veil of delusion; to rend asunder the barriers of imposture;\nthey considered with calm resolution, this formidable prejudice,\ncontemplated with a serene eye this unsupported opinion, examined with\ncool deliberation this fluctuating notion, which had become the object\nof all the hopes, the source of all the fears, the spring of all the\nquarrels which distracted the mind, and disturbed the harmony of blind,\nconfiding mortals.\n\nThe result of these inquiries has uniformly been, a conviction that no\nrational proof has ever been adduced in support of this hypothesis;\nthat from the nature of the thing itself, none can be offered; that\nan incorporeity is inconceivable to corporeal beings; that these only\nbehold nature acting after invariable laws, in which every thing is\nmaterial; that all the phenomena of which the world is the theatre,\nspring out of natural causes; that man as well as all the other beings\nis the work or this nature, is only an instrument in her hand, obliged\nto accomplish the eternal decrees of an imperious necessity.\n\nWhatever efforts the philosopher makes to penetrate the secrets of\nnature, he never finds more, as we have many times repeated, than\nmatter; various in itself, diversely modified in consequence of the\nmotion it undergoes. Its whole, as well as its parts, displays only\nnecessary causes producing necessary effects, which flow necessarily\none out of the other: of which the mind, aided by experience, is more\nor less competent to discover the concatenation. In virtue of their\nspecific properties, all the beings that come under our review,\ngravitate towards a centre--attract analogous matter--repel that which\nis unsuitable to combination--mutually receive and give impulse--acquire\nqualities--undergo modifications which maintain them in existence for a\nseason--are born and dissolved by the operation of an inexorable\ndecree, that obliges every thing, we behold to pass into a new mode of\nexistence. It is to these continued vicissitudes that are to be\nascribed all the phenomena, whether trivial or of magnitude; ordinary\nor extraordinary; known or unknown; simple or complicated; which are\noperated in the universe. It is by these mutations alone that we have\nany knowledge of nature: she is only mysterious to those who contemplate\nher through the veil of prejudice: her course is always simple to those\nwho look at her without prepossession.\n\nTo attribute the effects to which we are witnesses, to nature, to\nmatter, variously combined with the motion that is inherent to it, is\nto give them an intelligible and known cause; to attempt to penetrate\ndeeper, is to plunge ourselves into imaginary regions, where we find\nonly a chaos of obscurities--where we are lost in an unfathomable abyss\nof incertitude. Let us then be content with contemplating nature, who,\nbeing self-existent, must in her essence possess motion; which cannot\nbe conceived without properties, from which result perpetual action\nand re-action; or those continual efforts which give birth to such a\nnumerous train of circumstances; in which a single molecule cannot be\nfound, that does not necessarily occupy the place assigned to it, by\nimmutable and necessary laws--that is for an instant in an absolute\nstate of repose. What necessity can there exist to seek out of matter\nfor a power to give it play, since its motion flows as necessarily out\nof its existence as its bulk, its form, its gravity, &c. since nature in\ninaction would no longer be nature?\n\nIf it be demanded, How can we figure to ourselves, that matter by its\nown peculiar energy can produce all the effects we witness? I shall\nreply, that if by matter it is obstinately determined to understand\nnothing but a dead, inert mass, destitute of every property, incapable\nof moving itself, we shall no longer have a single idea of matter; we\nshall no longer be able to account for any thing. As soon, however,\nas it exists, it must have properties; as soon as it has properties,\nwithout which it could not exist, it must act by virtue of those\nproperties; since it is only by its action we can have a knowledge of\nits existence, be conscious of its properties. It is evident that if\nby matter be understood that which it is not, or if its existence\nbe denied, those phenomena which strike our visual organs cannot be\nattributed to it. But if by nature be understood (that which she really\nis), an heap of existing matter, possessing various properties, we shall\nbe obliged to acknowledge that nature must be competent to move herself;\nby the diversity of her motion, must have the capability, independent\nof foreign aid, to produce the effects we behold; we shall find that\nnothing can be made from nothing; that nothing is made by chance; that\nthe mode of action of every particle of matter, however minute, is\nnecessarily determined by its own peculiar, or by its individual\nproperties.\n\nWe have elsewhere said, that that which cannot be annihilated--that\nwhich in its nature is indestructible--cannot have been inchoate, cannot\nhave had a beginning to its existence, but exists necessarily from all\neternity; contains within itself a sufficient cause for its own peculiar\nexistence. It becomes then perfectly useless to seek out of nature a\ncause for her action which is in some respects known to us; with which\nindefatigable research may, judging of the future by the past, render us\nmore familiar. As we know some of the general properties of matter;\nas we can discover some of its qualities, wherefore should we seek its\nmotion in an unintelligible cause, of which we are not in a condition to\nbecome acquainted with any one of its properties? Can we conceive that\nimmateriality could ever draw matter from its own source? Impossible; it\nis not within the grasp of human intellect. If creation is an eduction\nfrom nothing, there must have been a time when matter had not existence;\nthere must consequently be a time when it will cease to be: this latter\nis acknowledged by many theologians themselves to be impossible. Do\nthose who are continually talking of this mysterious act of omnipotence,\nby which a mass of matter has been, all at once, substituted to nothing,\nperfectly understand what they tell us? Is there a man on earth who\nconceives that a being devoid of extent can exist, become the cause of\nthe existence of beings who have extent--act upon matter--draw it\nfrom his own peculiar essence--set it in motion? In truth, the more we\nconsider theology, the more we must be convinced that it has invented\nwords destitute of sense; substituted sounds to intelligible realities.\n\nFor want of consulting experience, for want or studying nature, for\nwant of examining the material world, we have plunged ourselves into an\nintellectual vacuum, which we have peopled with chimeras, We have not\nstooped to consider matter, to study its different periods, to follow it\nthrough its numerous, changes. We have either ridiculously or knavishly\nconfounded dissolution, decomposition, the separation of the elementary\nparticles of bodies, with their radical destruction; we have been\nunwilling to see that the elements are indestructible; although the\nforms are fleeting, and depend upon transitory combination. We have\nnot distinguished the change of figure, the alteration of position, the\nmutation of texture, to which matter is liable, from its annihilation,\nwhich is impossible; we have falsely concluded, that matter Was not a\nnecessary being--that it commenced to exist--that this existence was\nderived from that which possessed nothing in common with itself--that\nthat which was not substance, could give birth to that which is. Thus an\nunintelligible name has been substituted for matter, which furnishes us\nwith true ideas of nature; of which at each instant we experience the\ninfluence, of which we undergo the action, of which we feel the power,\nand of which we should have a much better knowledge, if our abstract\nopinions did not continually fasten a bandage over our eyes.\n\nIndeed the most simple notions of philosophy shew us, that, although\nbodies change and disappear, nothing is however lost in nature; the\nvarious produce of the decomposition of a body serves for elements,\nsupplies materials, forms the basis, lays the foundation for accretions,\ncontributes to the maintenance of other bodies. The whole of nature\nsubsists, and is conserved only by the circulation, the transmigration,\nthe exchange, the perpetual displacement of insensible atoms--the\ncontinual mutation of the sensible combinations of matter. It is by\nthis palingenesia, this regeneration, that the great whole, the mighty\nmacrocosm subsists; who, like the Saturn of the ancients, is perpetually\noccupied with devouring her own children.\n\nIt will not then be inconsistent with observation, repugnant to reason,\ncontrary to good sense, to acknowledge that matter is self-existent;\nthat it acts by an energy peculiar to itself; that it will never be\nannihilated. Let us then say, that matter is eternal; that nature has\nbeen, is, and ever will be occupied with producing and destroying;\nwith doing and undoing; with combining and separating; in short, with\nfollowing a system of laws resulting from its necessary existence. For\nevery thing that she doth, she needs only to combine the elements of\nmatter; these, essentially diverse, necessarily either attract or repel\neach other; come into collision, from whence results either their\nunion or dissolution; by the same laws that one approximates, the other\nrecedes from their respective spheres of action. It is thus that she\nbrings forth plants, fossils, animals, men; thus she gives existence\nto organized, sensible, thinking beings, as well as to those who are\ndestitute of either feeling or thought. All these act for the season of\ntheir respective duration, according to immutable laws, determined by\ntheir various properties; arising out of their configuration; depending\non their masses; resulting from their ponderosity, &c. Here is the true\norigin of every thing which is presented to our view; this indicates\nthe mode by which nature, according to her own peculiar powers, is in\na state to produce all those astonishing effects which assail our\nwondering eyes; all that phenomena to which mankind is the witness; as\nwell as all the bodies who act diversely upon the organs with which\nhe is furnished, of which he can only judge according to the manner in\nwhich these organs are affected. He says they are good, when they are\nanalogous to his own mode of existence--when they contribute to the\nmaintenance of the harmony of his machine: he says they are bad, when\nthey disturb this harmony. It is thus he ascribes views, ideas, designs,\nto the being he supposes to be the power by which nature is moved;\nalthough all the experience we are able to collect, unequivocally\nproves, that she acts after an invariable, eternal code of laws.\n\nNature is destitute of those views which actuate man; she acts\nnecessarily, because she exists: her system is immutable, and founded\nupon the essence of things. It is the essence of the seed of the\nmale, composed of primitive elements, which serve for the basis of an\norganized being, to unite itself with that of the female; to fructify\nit; to produce, by this combination, a new organized being; who, feeble\nin his origin, not having yet acquired a sufficient quantity of material\nparticles to give him consistence, corroborates himself by degrees;\nstrengthens himself by the daily accretion of analogous matter; is\nnourished by the modifications appropriate to his existence: matured\nby the continuation of circumstances calculated to give vigour to\nhis frame; thus he lives, thinks, acts, engenders in his turn other\norganized beings similar to himself. By a consequence of his temperament\nand of physical laws, this generation does not take place, except when\nthe circumstances necessary to its production find themselves united.\nThus this procreation is not operated by chance; the animal does not\nfructify, but with an animal of his own species, because this is the\nonly one analogous to himself, who unites the qualities, who combines\nthe circumstances, suitable to produce a being resembling himself;\nwithout this he would not produce any thing, or he would only give\nbirth to a being who would be denominated a monster, because it would be\ndissimilar to himself. It is of the essence of the grain of plants, to\nbe impregnated by the pollen or seed of the stygma of the flower; in\nthis state of copulation they in consequence develope themselves in\nthe bowels of the earth; expand by the aid of water; shoot forth by\nthe accession of heat; attract analogous particles to corroborate their\nsystem: thus by degrees they form a plant, a shrub, a tree, susceptible\nof that life, filled with that motion, capable of that action which\nis suitable to vegetable existence. It is of the essence of particular\nparticles of earth, homogeneous in their nature, when separated by\ncircumstances, attenuated by water, elaborated by heat, to unite\nthemselves in the bosom of mountains, with other atoms which are\nanalogous; to form by their aggregation, according to their various\naffinities, those bodies possessing more or less solidity; having more\nor less purity, which are called diamonds, chrystals, stones, metals,\nminerals. It is of the essence of exhalations raised by the heat of\nthe atmosphere, to combine, to collect themselves, to dash against each\nother, and either by their union or their collision to produce meteors,\nto generate thunder. It is of the essence of some inflammable matter\nto gather itself together, to ferment in the caverns of the earth, to\nincrease its active force by augmenting its heat, and then explode,\nby the accession of other matter suitable to the operation, with that\ntremendous force which we call earthquakes; by which mountains are\ndestroyed; cities overturned; the inhabitants of the plains thrown into\na state of consternation; these full of alarm, unused to meditate on\nnatural effects, unconscious of the extent of physical powers, stretch\nforth their hands in dismay, heave the most desponding sighs, utter\naloud their complaints, and earnestly implore a cessation of those\nevils, which nature, acting by necessary laws, obliges them to\nexperience as necessarily as she does those benefits by which she fills\nthem with the most extravagant joy. In short, it is of the essence of\ncertain climates to produce men so organized, whose temperament is so\nmodified, that they become either extremely useful or very prejudicial\nto their species, in the same manner as it is the property of certain\nportions of the land, to bring forth either delicious fruits or\ndangerous poisons.\n\nIn all this nature acts necessarily; she pursues an undeviating course,\nwhich we are bound to consider the perfection of wisdom; because she\nexists necessarily, has her modes of action determined by certain,\ninvariable laws, which themselves flow out of the constituent properties\nof the various beings she contains, and those circumstances, which the\neternal motion she is in must necessarily bring about. It is ourselves\nwho have a necessary aim, which is our own conservation; it is by this\nthat we regulate all the ideas we form to ourselves of the causes acting\nin nature; it is according to this standard we judge of every thing\nwe see or feel. Animated ourselves, existing after a certain manner,\npossessing a soul endowed with rare and peculiar qualities, we, like the\nsavage, ascribe a soul and animated life to every thing that acts upon\nus. Thinking and intelligent ourselves, we give these, faculties to\nthose beings whom we suppose to be more powerful than mortals; but as we\nsee the generality of matter incapable of modifying itself, we suppose\nit must receive its impulse from some concealed agent, some external\ncause, which our imagination pictures as similar to ourselves.\nNecessarily attracted by that which is advantageous to us, repelling by\nan equal necessity that which is prejudicial to our manner of existence;\nwe cease to reflect that our modes of feeling are due to our peculiar\norganization, modified by physical causes: in this state, either of\ninattention or ignorance, we mistake the natural results of our own\npeculiar structure, for instruments employed by a being whom we clothe\nwith our own passions--whom we suppose actuated by our own views--who,\npossessing our ideas, embraces a mode of thinking and acting similar to\nourselves.\n\nIf after this it be asked, What is the end of nature? We shall reply\nthat on this head we are ignorant; that it is more than probable no man\nwill ever fathom the secret; but we shall also say, it is evidently to\nexist, to act, to conserve her whole. If then it be demanded, Wherefore\nshe exists? We shall again reply, of this we know nothing at present,\npossibly never shall; but we shall also say, she exists necessarily,\nthat her operations, her motion, her phenomena, are the necessary\nconsequences of her necessary existence. There necessarily exists\nsomething; this is nature or the universe, this nature necessarily acts\nas she does. If it be wished to substitute any other word for nature,\nthe question will still remain as it did, as to the cause of her\nexistence; the end she has in view. It is not by changing of terms that\na geometrician can solve problems; one word will throw no more light\non a subject than another, unless that word carries a certain degree\nof conviction in the ideas which it generates. As long as we speak of\nmatter, if we cannot develope all its properties, we shall at least have\nfixed, determinate ideas; something tangible, of which we have a slight\nknowledge, that we can submit to the examination of our senses: but\nfrom the moment we begin to talk of immateriality, of incorporeity,\nfrom thence our ideas become confused; we are lost in a labyrinth of\nconjecture--we have no one means of seizing the subject on any\nside--we are, after the most elaborate arguments, after the most subtle\nreasoning, obliged to acknowledge we cannot form the most slender\nopinion respecting it, that has any thing substantive for its support.\nIn short, that it is precisely that thing \"of which every thing may be\ndenied, but of which nothing can with truth be affirmed.\" Let us clothe\nthis incomprehensible being with whatever qualities we may, it will be\nalways in ourselves we seek the model; they will be our own faculties\nthat we delineate, our own passions that we describe. In like manner\nman, as long as he is ignorant, will always conjecture that it is for\nhimself alone the universe was formed; not withstanding, he has nothing\nmore to do, than to open his eyes in order to be undeceived. He will\nthen see, that he undergoes a common destiny, equally partakes with all\nother beings of the benefits, shares with them without exception the\nevils of life; like them he is submitted to an imperious necessity,\ninexorable in its decrees; which is itself nothing more than the sum\ntotal of those laws which nature herself is obliged to follow.\n\nThus every thing proves that nature, or matter, exists necessarily; that\nit cannot in any moment swerve from those laws imposed upon it by its\nexistence. If it cannot be annihilated, it cannot have been inchoate.\nThe theologian himself agrees that it requires a miracle to annihilate\nan atom. But is it possible to derogate from the necessary laws of\nexistence? Can that which exists necessarily, act but according to the\nlaws peculiar to itself? Miracle is another word invented to shield our\nown sloth, to cover our own ignorance; it is that by which we wish to\ndesignate those rare occurrences, those solitary effects of natural\ncauses, whose infrequency do not afford us means of diving into their\nsprings. It is only saying by another expression, that an unknown cause\nhath by modes which we cannot trace, produced an uncommon effect which\nwe did not expect, which therefore appears strange to us. This granted,\nthe intervention of words, far from removing the ignorance in which we\nfound ourselves with respect to the power and capabilities of nature,\nonly serves to augment it, to give it more durability. The creation\nof matter becomes to our mind as incomprehensible, and appears as\nimpossible as its annihilation.\n\nLet us then conclude that all those words which do not present to the\nmind any determinate idea, ought to be banished the language of those\nwho are desirous of speaking so as to be understood; that abstract\nterms, invented by ignorance, are only calculated to satisfy men\ndestitute of experience; who are too slothful to study nature, too timid\nto search into her ways; that they are suitable only to content those\nenthusiasts, whose curious imagination pleases itself with making\nfruitless endeavours to spring beyond the visible world; who occupy\nthemselves with chimeras of their own creation: in short, that these\nwords are useful only to those whose sole profession it is to feed the\nears of the uninformed with pompous sounds, that are not comprehended\nby themselves--upon the sense of which they are in a state of perpetual\nhostility with each other--upon the true meaning of which they have\nnever yet been able to come to a common agreement; which each sees after\nhis own peculiar manner of contemplating objects, in which there never\nwas, nor probably never will be, the least harmony of feeling.\n\nMan is a material being; he cannot consequently have any ideas, but of\nthat which like himself is material; that is to say, of that which is\nin a capacity to act upon his organs, which has some qualities analogous\nwith his own. In despite of himself, he always assigns material\nproperties to his gods; the impossibility he finds in compassing them,\nhas made him suppose them to be spiritual; distinguished from the\nmaterial world. Indeed he, must be content, either not to understand\nhimself, or he must have material ideas of the Divinity; the human mind\nmay torture itself as long as it pleases, it will never, after all its\nefforts, be enabled to comprehend, that material effects can emanate\nfrom immaterial causes; or that such causes can have any relation with\nmaterial beings. Here is the reason why man, as we have seen, believes\nhimself obliged to give to his gods, these morals which he so much so\nhighly esteems, in those beings of his race, who are fortunate enough\nto possess them: he forgets that a being who is spiritual, adopting the\ntheological hypothesis, cannot from thence either have his organization,\nor his ideas; that it cannot think in his mode, nor act after his\nmanner; that consequently it cannot possess what he calls intelligence,\nwisdom, goodness, anger, justice, &c. as he himself understands those\nterms. Thus, in truth, the moral qualities with which he has clothed\nthe Divinity, supposes him material, and the most abstract\ntheological notions, are, after all, founded upon a direct, undeniable\n_Anthropomorphism_.\n\nIn despite of all their subtilties, the theologians cannot do otherwise;\nlike all the beings of the human species, they have a knowledge of\nmatter alone: they have no real idea of a pure spirit. When they speak\nof the intelligence, of the wisdom, of the designs of their gods, they\nare always those of men which they describe, that they obstinately\npersist in giving to beings, of which, according to their own shewing,\nto the evidence they themselves adduce, their essence does not render\nthem susceptible; who if they had those qualities with which they clothe\nthem, would from that very moment cease to be incorporeal; would be in\nthe truest sense of the word, substantive matter. How shall we reconcile\nthe assertion, that beings who have not occasion for any thing--who are\nsufficient to them selves--whose projects must be executed as soon as\nthey are formed; can have volition, passions, desires? How shall we\nattribute anger to beings without either blood or bile? How can we\nconceive an omnipotent being (whose wisdom we admire in the striking\norder he has himself established in the universe,) can permit that this\nbeautiful arrangement should be continually disturbed, either by the\nelements in discord, or by the crimes of human beings? In short, this\nbeing cannot have any one of the human qualities, which always depend\nupon the peculiar organization of man--upon his wants--upon his\ninstitutions, which are themselves always relative to the society\nin which he lives. The theologian vainly strives to aggrandize, to\nexaggerate in idea, to carry to perfection by dint of abstraction, the\nmoral qualities of man; they are unsuitable to the Divinity; in vain it\nis asserted they are in him of a different nature from what they are\nin his creatures; that they are perfect; infinite; supreme; eminent; in\nholding this language, they no longer understand themselves; they can\nhave no one idea of the qualities they are describing, seeing that\nman can never have a conception of them, but inasmuch as they bear an\nanalogy to the same qualities in himself.\n\nIt is thus that by force of metaphysical subtilty, mortals have no\nlonger any fixed, any determinate idea of the beings to which they have\ngiven birth. But little contented with understanding physical causes,\nwith contemplating active nature; weary of examining matter, which\nexperience proves is competent to the production of every thing, man\nhas been desirous to despoil it of the energy which it is its essence\nto possess, in order to invest it in a pure spirit; in an immaterial\nsubstance; which he is under the necessity of re-making a material\nbeing, whenever he has an inclination either to form an idea of it to\nhimself, or make it understood by others. In assembling the parts\nof man, which he does no more than enlarge, which he swells out to\ninfinity, he believes he forms an immaterial being, who, for that\nreason, acquires the capability of performing all those phenomena, with\nthe true causes of which he is ignorant; nevertheless those operations\nof which he does comprehend the spring, he as sedulously denies to be\ndue to the powers of this being; time, therefore, according to these\nideas, as he advances the progress of science, as he further developes\nthe secrets of nature, is continually diminishing the number of actions\nascribed to this being--is constantly circumscribing his sphere of\naction. It is upon the model of the human soul that he forms the soul\nof nature, or that secret agent from which she receives impulse. After\nhaving made himself double, he makes nature in like manner twofold, and\nthen he supposes she is vivified by an intelligence, which he borrows\nfrom himself, Placed in an impossibility of becoming acquainted with\nthis agent, as well as with that which he has gratuitously distinguished\nfrom his own body; he has invented the word spiritual to cover up\nhis ignorance; which is only in other words avowing it is a substance\nentirely unknown to him. From that moment, however, he has no ideas\nwhatever of what he himself has done; because he first clothes it with\nall the qualities he esteems in his fellows, and then destroys them by\nan assurance, that they in no wise resemble the qualities he has been\nso anxious to bestow. To remedy this inconvenience, he concludes this\nspiritual substance much more noble than matter; that its prodigious\nsubtilty, which he calls simplicity, but which is only the effect\nof metaphysical abstraction, secures it from decomposition, from\ndissolution, from all those revolutions, to which material bodies, as\nproduced by nature, are evidently exposed.\n\nIt is thus, that man always prefers the marvellous to the simple; the\nunintelligible to the intelligible; that which he cannot comprehend, to\nthat which is within the range of his understanding; he despises those\nobjects which are familiar to him; he estimates those alone with which\nhe is incapable of having any intercourse: that of which he has only\nconfused vague ideas, he concludes must contain something important for\nhim to know--must have something supernatural in its construction.\nIn short, he needs mystery to move his imagination--to exercise his\nmind--to feed his curiosity; which never labours harder, than when it is\noccupied with enigmas impossible to be guessed at; which from that very\ncircumstance, he judges to be extremely worthy of his research.\nThis, without doubt, is the reason he looks upon matter, which he\nhas continually under his eyes, which he sees perpetually in action,\neternally changing its form, as a contemptible thing--as a contingent\nbeing, that does not exist necessarily; consequently, that cannot exist\nindependently: this is the reason why he has imagined a spirit, which he\nwill never be able to conceive; which on that account he declares to be\nsuperior to matter; which he roundly asserts to be anterior to nature,\nand the only self-existent being. The human wind found food in these\nmystical ideas, they unceasingly occupied it; the imagination had play,\nit embellished them after its own manner: ignorance fed itself with the\nfables to which these mysteries gave rise; habit identified them with\nthe existence of man himself: when each could ask the other concerning\nthese ideas, without any one being in a capacity to return a direct\nanswer, he felt himself gratified, he immediately concluded that the\ngeneral impossibility of reply stamped them with the wondrous faculty\nof immediately interesting his welfare; of involving his most prominent\ninterests, more than all the things put together, with which he had\nany possible means of becoming intimately acquainted. Thus they became\nnecessary to his happiness; he believed he fell into a vacuum without\nthem; he became the decided enemy to all those who endeavoured to lead\nhim back to nature, which he had learned to despise; to consider only as\nan impotent mass, an heap of inert matter, not possessing any energy\nbut what it received from causes exterior to itself; as a contemptible\nassemblage of fragile combinations, whose forms were continually subject\nto perish.\n\nIn distinguishing nature from her mover, man has fallen into the same\nabsurdity as when he separated his soul from his body; life from the\nliving being; the faculty of thought from the thinking being: deceived\non his own peculiar nature, having taken up an erroneous opinion upon\nthe energy of his own organs, he has in like manner been deceived upon\nthe organization of the universe; he has distinguished nature from\nherself; the life of nature from living nature; the action of nature\nfrom active nature. It was this soul of the world--this energy of\nnature--this principle of activity, which man first personified, then\nseparated by abstraction; sometimes decorated with imaginary attributes;\nsometimes with qualities borrowed from his own peculiar essence. Such\nwere the aerial materials of which man availed himself to construct the\nincomprehensible, immaterial substances, which have filled the world\nwith disputes--which have divided man from his fellow--which to this day\nhe has never been able to define, even to his own satisfaction. His own\nsoul was the model. Deceived upon the nature of this, he never had any\njust ideas of the Divinity, who was, in his mind, nothing more than a\ncopy exaggerated or disfigured to that degree, as to make him mistake\nthe prototype upon which it had been originally formed.\n\nIf, because man has distinguished himself from his own existence, it has\nbeen impossible for him ever to form to himself any true idea of his\nown nature; it is also because he has distinguished nature from herself,\nthat both herself and her ways have been mistaken. Man has ceased to\nstudy nature, that he might, recur by thought to a substance which\npossesses nothing in common with her; this substance he has made the\nmover of nature, without which she would not be capable of any thing; to\nwhom every thing that takes place in her system, must be attributed;\nthe conduct of this being has appeared mysterious, has been held up as\nmarvellous, because he seemed to be a continual contradiction: when if\nman had but recurred to the immutability of the laws of nature, to the\ninvariable system she pursues, all would have appeared intelligible;\nevery thing would have been reconciled; the apparent contrariety\nwould have vanished. By thus taking a wrong view of things, wisdom and\nintelligence appeared to be opposed by confusion and disorder; goodness\nto be rendered nugatory by evil; while all is only just what it must\ninevitably be, under the given circumstances. In consequence of these\nerroneous opinions, in the place of applying himself to the study of\nnature, to discover the method of obtaining her favors, or to seek the\nmeans of throwing aside his misfortunes; in the room of consulting his\nexperience; in lieu of labouring usefully to his own happiness; he has\nbeen only occupied with expecting these things by channels through\nwhich they do not flow; he has been disputing upon objects be never can\nunderstand, while he has totally neglected that which was within the\ncompass of his own powers; which he might have rendered propitious to\nhis views, by a more industrious application of his own talent; by a\npatient investigation, for the purpose of drawing at the fountain of\ntruth, the limpid balsam that alone can heal the sorrows or his heart.\n\nNothing could be well more prejudicial to his race, than this\nextravagant theory; which, as we shall prove, has become the source of\ninnumerable evils. Man has been for thousands of years trembling before\nidols of his own creation--bowing down before them with the most servile\nhomage--occupied with disarming their wrath--sedulously employed in\npropitiating their kindness, without ever advancing a single step on\nthe road he so much desires to travel. He will perhaps continue the same\ncourse for centuries to come, unless by some unlooked for exertion on\nhis part, he shall happen to discard the prejudices which blind him; to\nlay aside his enthusiasm for the marvellous; to quit his fondness for\nthe enigmatical; rally round the standard of his reason: unless, taking\nexperience for his guide, he march undauntedly forward under the banner\nof truth, and put to the rout that host of unintelligible jargon, under\nthe cumbrous load of which he has lost sight of his own happiness;\nwhich has but too frequently prevented him from seeking the only means\nadequate either to satisfy his wants, or to ameliorate the evils which\nhe is necessarily obliged to experience.\n\nLet us then re-conduct bewildered mortals to the altar of nature; let us\nendeavour to destroy that delusion which the ignorance of man, aided by\na disordered imagination, has induced him to elevate to her throne; let\nus strive to dissipate that heavy mist which obscures to him the paths\nof truth; let us seek to banish from his mind those visionary ideas\nwhich prevent him from giving activity to his experience; let us teach\nhim if possible not to seek out of nature herself, the causes of the\nphenomena he admires--to rest satisfied that she contains remedies for\nall his evils--that she has manifold benefits in store for those, who,\nrallying their industry, are willingly patiently to investigate her\nlaws--that she rarely withholds her secrets from the researches of those\nwho diligently labour to unravel them. Let us assure him that reason\nalone can render him happy; that reason is nothing more than the science\nof nature, applied to the conduct of man in society; that this reason\nteaches that every thing is necessary; that his pleasures as well as\nhis sorrows are the effects of nature, who in all her works follows only\nlaws which nothing can make her revoke; that his interest demands he\nshould learn to support with equanimity of mind, all those evils\nwhich natural means do not enable him to put aside. In short, let us\nunceasingly repeat to him, it is in rendering his fellow creature happy,\nthat he will himself arrive at a felicity he will in vain expect from\nothers, when his own conduct refuses it to him.\n\nNature is self-existent; she will always exist; she produces every\nthing; contains within herself the cause of every thing; her motion is a\nnecessary consequence of her existence; without motion we could form\nno conception of nature; under this collective name we designate the\nassemblage of matter acting by virtue of its peculiar energies. Every\nthing proves to us, that it is not out of nature man ought to seek the\nDivinity. If we have only an incomplete knowledge of nature and her\nways--if we have only superficial, imperfect ideas of matter, how shall\nwe be able to flatter ourselves with understanding or having any certain\nnotions of immateriality, of beings so much more fugitive, so much more\ndifficult to compass, even by thought, than the material elements;\nso much more shy of access than either the constituent principles of\nbodies, their primitive properties, their various modes of acting, or\ntheir different manner of existing? If we cannot recur to first causes,\nlet its content ourselves with second causes, with those effects which\nwe can submit to experience, let us collect the facts with which we have\nan acquaintance; they will enable us to judge of what we do not know:\nlet us at least confine ourselves to the feeble glimmerings of truth\nwith which our senses furnish us, since we do not possess means whereby\nto acquire broader masses of light.\n\nDo not let us mistake for real sciences, those which have no other\nbasis than our imagination; we shall find that such can at most be but\nvisionary: let us cling close to nature which we see, which we feel,\nof which we experience the action; of which at least we understand the\ngeneral laws. If we are ignorant of her detail, if we cannot fathom the\nsecret principles she employs in her most complicated productions,\nwe are at least certain she acts in a permanent, uniform, analogous,\nnecessary manner. Let us then observe this nature; let us watch her\nmovements; but never let us endeavour to quit the routine she prescribes\nfor the beings of our species: if we do, we shall not only be obliged to\nreturn, but we shall also infallibly be punished with numberless errors,\nwhich will darken our mind, estrange us from reason; the necessary\nconsequence will be countless sorrows, which we may otherwise avoid.\nLet us consider we are sensible parts of a whole, in which the forms are\nonly produced to be destroyed; in which combinations are ushered into\nlife, that they may again quit it, after having subsisted for a longer\nor a shorter season. Let us look upon nature as an immense elaboratory\nwhich contains every thing necessary for her action; who lacks nothing\nrequisite for the production of all the phenomena she displays to our\nsight. Let us acknowledge her power to be inherent in her essence; amply\ncommensurate to her eternal march; fully adequate to the happiness of\nall the beings she contains. Let us consider her as a whole, who can\nonly maintain herself by what we call the discord of the elements; that\nshe exists by the continual dissolution and re-union of her parts; that\nfrom this springs the universal harmony; that from this the general\nstability has its birth. Let us then re-establish omnipotent nature, so\nlong mistaken by man, in her legitimate rights. Let us place her on that\nadamantine throne, which it is for the felicity of the human race she\nshould occupy. Let us surround her with those ministers who can never\ndeceive, who can never forfeit our confidence--_Justice and Practical\nKnowledge_. Let us listen to her eternal voice; she neither speaks\nambiguously, nor in an unintelligible language; she may be easily\ncomprehended by the people of all nations; because _Reason_ is her\nfaithful interpreter. She offers nothing to our contemplation but\nimmutable truths. Let us then for ever impose silence on that enthusiasm\nwhich leads us astray; let us put to the blush that imposture which\nwould riot on our credulity; let us discard that gloomy superstition,\nwhich has drawn us aside from the only worship suitable to intelligent\nbeings. Above all, never let us forget that the temple of happiness can\nonly be reached through the groves of virtue, which surround it on every\nside; that the paths which lead to these beautiful walks can only be\nentered by the road of experience, the portals of which are alone opened\nto those who apply to them the key of truth: this key is of very simple\nstructure, has no complicated intricacy of wards, and is easily formed\non the anvil of social intercourse, merely by _not doing unto others\nthat which you would not wish they should do unto you._\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VII.\n\n_Of Theism.--Of the System of Optimism.--Of final Causes_.\n\n\nVery few men have either the courage or the industry to examine\nopinions, which every one is in agreement to acknowledge; there is\nscarcely any one who ventures to doubt their truth, even when no solid\narguments have been adduced in their support. The natural supineness\nof man readily receives them without examination upon the authority\nof others--communicates them to his successors in the season of their\ninfancy; thus is transmitted from race to race, notions which once\nhaving obtained the sanction of time, are contemplated as clothed with\na sacred character, although perhaps to an unprejudiced mind, who should\nbe bent on searching into their foundation, no proofs will appear, that\nthey ever were verified. It is thus with immateriality: it has passed\ncurrent from father to son for many ages, without these having done any\nthing more than habitually consign to their brain those obscure ideas\nwhich were at first attached to it, which it is evident, from the\nadmission even of its advocates, can never be removed, to admit others\nof a more enlightened nature. Indeed how can it possibly be, that light\ncan be thrown upon an incomprehensible subject: each therefore modifies\nit after his own manner; each gives it that colouring that most\nharmonizes with his own peculiar existence; each contemplates it under\nthat perspective which is the issue of his own particular vision: this\nfrom the nature of things cannot be the same in every individual: there\nmust then of necessity be a great contrariety in the opinions resulting.\nIt is thus also that each man forms to himself a God in particular,\nafter his own peculiar temperament--according to his own natural\ndispositions: the individual circumstances under which he is found, the\nwarmth of his imagination, the prejudices he has received, the mode in\nwhich he is at different times affected, have all their influence in the\npicture he forms. The contented, healthy man, does not see him with the\nsame eyes as the man who is chagrined and sick; the man with a heated\nblood, who has an ardent imagination, or is subject to bile, does not\npourtray him under the same traits as he who enjoys a more peaceable\nsoul, who has a cooler fancy, who is of a more phlegmatic habit. This is\nnot all; even the same individual does not view him in the same manner\nat different periods of his life: he undergoes all the variations of\nhis machine--all the revolutions of his temperament--all those continual\nvicissitudes which his existence experiences. The idea of the Divinity\nis said to be innate; on the contrary, it is perpetually fluctuating in\nthe mind of each individual; varies every moment in all the beings\nof the human species; so much so, that there are not two who admit\nprecisely the same Deity; there is not a single one, who, under\ndifferent circumstances, does not see him variously.\n\nDo not then let us be surprised at the variety of systems adopted by\nmankind on this subject; it ought not to astonish us that there is so\nlittle harmony existing among men upon a point of such consequence; it\nought not to appear strange that so much contradiction should prevail\nin the various doctrines held forth; that they should have such\nlittle consistency, such slender connection with each other; that the\nprofessors should dispute continually upon the rectitude of the opinions\nadopted by each: they must necessarily wrangle upon that which each\ncontemplates so variously--upon which there is hardly a single mortal\nwho is constantly in accord with himself.\n\nAll men are pretty well agreed upon those objects which they are enabled\nto submit to the test of experience; we do not hear any disputes upon\nthe principles of geometry; those truths that are evident, that are\neasily demonstrable, never vary in our mind; we never doubt that\nthe part is less than the whole; that two and two make four; that\nbenevolence is an amiable quality; that equity is necessary to man in\nsociety. But we find nothing but perpetual controversy upon all those\nsystems which have the Divinity for their object; they are full of\nincertitude; subject to continual variations: we do not see any harmony\neither in the principles of theology, or in the principles of its\ngraduates. Even the proofs offered of his existence have been the\nsubject of cavil; they have either been thought too feeble, have been\nbrought forward against rule, or else have not been taken up with\nsufficient zeal to please the various reasoners who advocate the cause;\nthe corollaries drawn from the premises laid down, are not the same in\nany two nations, scarcely in two individuals; the thinkers of all\nages, in all countries, are perpetually in rivalry with each other;\nunceasingly quarrel upon all the points of religion; can never agree\neither upon their theological hypotheses, or upon the fundamental\ntruths which should serve for their basis; even the attributes, the\nvery qualities ascribed, are as warmly contested by some, as they are\nzealously defended by others.\n\nThese never-ending disputes, these perpetual variations, ought, at\nleast, to convince the unprejudiced, that the ideas of the Divinity have\nneither the generally-admitted evidence, nor the certitude which are\nattributed to them; on the contrary, these contrarieties in the opinions\nof the theologians, if submitted to the logic of the schools, might be\nfatal to the whole of them: according to that mode of reasoning, which\nat least has the sanction of our universities, all the probabilities in\nthe world cannot acquire the force of a demonstration; a truth is\nnot made evident but when constant experience, reiterated reflection,\nexhibits it always under the same point of view; the evidence of a\nproposition cannot be admitted unless it carries with it a substantive\ndemonstration; from the constant relation which is made by well\nconstituted senses, results that evidence, that certitude, which alone\ncan produce full conviction: if the major proposition of a syllogism\nshould be overturned by the minor, the whole falls to the ground.\nCicero, who is no mean authority on such a subject, says expressly, \"No\nreasoning can render that false, which experience has demonstrated as\nevident.\" Wolff, in his Ontology, says; \"That which is repugnant in\nitself, cannot possibly be understood; that those things which are in\nthemselves contradictions, must always be deficient of evidence.\" St.\nThomas says, \"Being, is all that which is not repugnant to existence.\"\n\nHowever it may be with these qualities, which the theologians assign to\ntheir immaterial beings, whether they may be irreconcileable, or whether\nthey are totally incomprehensible, what can result to the human species\nin supposing them to have intelligence and views? Can an universal\nintelligence, whose care must be equally extended to every thing that\nexists, have more direct, more intimate relations with man, who only\nforms an insensible portion of the great whole? Can we seriously believe\nthat it is to make joyful the insects, to gratify the ants of his\ngarden, that the Monarch of the universe has constructed and embellished\nhis habitation? Would our feeble eyes, therefore, become stronger--would\nour narrow views of things be enlarged--should we be better capacitated\nto understand his projects--could we with more certitude divine\nhis plans, enter into his designs--would our exility of judgment be\ncompetent to measure his wisdom, to follow the eternal order he has\nestablished? Will those effects, which flow from his omnipotence,\nemanate from his providence--whether we estimate them as good, or\nwhether we tax them as evil--whether we consider them beneficial, or\nview them as prejudicial--be less the necessary results of his wisdom,\nof his justice, of his eternal decrees? In this case can we reasonably\nsuppose that a Being, so wise, so just, so intelligent, will derange\nhis system, change his plan, for such weak beings as ourselves? Can we\nrationally believe we have the capacity to address worthy prayers, to\nmake suitable requests, to point out proper modes of conduct to such a\nBeing? Can we at all flatter ourselves that to please us, to gratify our\ndiscordant wishes, he will alter his immutable laws? Can we imagine\nthat at our entreaty he will take from the beings who surround us their\nessences, their properties, their various modes of action? Have we\nany right to expect he will abrogate in our behalf the eternal laws of\nnature, that he will disturb her eternal march, arrest her ever-lasting\ncourse, which his wisdom has planned; which his goodness has conferred;\nwhich are, in fact, the admiration of mankind? Can we hope that in our\nfavour fire will cease to burn, when we approximate it too closely; that\nfever shall not consume our habit, when contagion has penetrated our\nsystem; that gout shall not torment us, when an intemperate mode of\nlife shall have amassed the humours that necessarily result from such\nconduct; that an edifice tumbling in ruins shall not crush us by its\nfall, when we are within the vortex of its action? Will our vain cries,\nour most fervent supplications, prevent a country from being unhappy,\nwhen it shall be devastated by an ambitious conqueror; when it shall\nbe submitted to the capricious will of unfeeling tyrants, who bend it\nbeneath the iron rod of their oppression?\n\nIf this infinite intelligence gives a free course to those events which\nhis wisdom has prepared; if nothing happens in this world but after\nhis impenetrable designs; we ought silently to submit; we have in fact\nnothing to ask; we should be madmen to oppose our own weak intellect to\nsuch capacious wisdom; we should offer an insult to his prudence if we\nwere desirous to regulate them. Man must not flatter himself that he\nis wiser than his God; that he is in a capacity to make him change his\nwill; with having power to determine him to take other means than those\nwhich he has chosen to accomplish his decrees. An intelligent Divinity\ncan only have taken those measures which embrace complete justice; can\nonly have availed himself of those means which are best calculated to\narrive at his end; if he was capable of changing them, he could neither\nbe called wise, immutable, nor provident. If it was to be granted,\nthat the Divinity did for a single instant suspend those laws which he\nhimself has given, if he was to change any thing in his plan, it would\nbe supposing he had not foreseen the motives of this suspension; that he\nhad not calculated the causes of this change; if he did not make these\nmotives enter into his plan, it would be saying he had not foreseen\nthe causes that render them necessary: if he has foreseen them without\nmaking them part of his system, it would be arraigning the perfection of\nthe whole. Thus in whatever manner these things are contemplated, under\nwhatever point of view they are examined, it is evident that the\nprayers which man addresses to the Divinity, which are sanctioned by the\ndifferent modes of worship, always suppose he is supplicating a being\nwhose wisdom and providence are defective; in fact, that his own is more\nappropriate to his situation. To suppose he is capable of change in his\nconduct, is to bring his omniscience into question; to vitally attack\nhis omnipotence; to arraign his goodness; at once to say, that he either\nis not willing or not competent to judge what would be most\nexpedient for man; for whose sole advantage and pleasure they\nwill, notwithstanding, insist he created the universe: such are the\ninconsistent doctrines of theology; such the imbecile efforts of\nmetaphysics.\n\nIt is, however, upon these notions, extravagant as they may appear,\nill directed as they assuredly are, inconclusive as they must\nbe acknowledged by unprejudiced minds, that are founded all the\nsuperstitions and many of the religions of the earth. It is by no means\nan uncommon sight, to see man upon his knees before an all-wise God,\nwhose conduct he is endeavouring to regulate; whose decrees he wishes to\navert; whose plan he is desirous to reform. These inconsistent objects\nhe is occupied with gaining, by means equally repugnant to sound sense;\nequally injurious to the dignity of the Divinity: adopting his own\nsensations as the criterion of the feelings of the Deity; in some places\nhe tries to win him to his interests by presents; sometimes we behold\neven the princes of the earth attempting to direct his views, by\noffering him splendid garments, upon which their own fatuity sets an\ninordinate value, merely because they have laboured at them themselves;\nsome strive to disarm his justice by the most splendid pageantry; others\nby practices the most revolting to humanity; some think his immutability\nwill yield to idle ceremonies; others to the most discordant prayers;\nit not unfrequently happens that to induce him to change in their favour\nhis eternal decrees, those who have opposite interests to promote, each\nreturns him thanks for that which the others consider as the greatest\ncurse that can befal them. In short, man is almost every where prostrate\nbefore an omnipotent God, who, if we were to judge by the discrepancy of\ntheir requests, never has rendered his creatures such as they ought\nto be; who to accomplish his divine views has never taken the proper\nmeasures, who to fulfil his wisdom has continual need of the admonitions\nof man, conveyed either in the form of thanks or prayers.\n\nWe see, then, that superstition is founded upon manifest contradictions,\nwhich man must always fall into when he mistakes the natural causes of\nthings--when he shall attribute the good or evil which he experiences to\nan intelligent cause, distinguished from nature, of which he will never\nbe competent to form to himself any certain ideas. Indeed, man will\nalways be reduced, as we have so frequently repeated, to the necessity\nof clothing his gods with his own imbecile qualities: as he is himself\na changeable being, whose intelligence is limited; who, placed in divers\ncircumstances, appears to be frequently in contradiction with himself;\nalthough he thinks he honours his gods in giving them his own peculiar\nqualities, he in fact does nothing more than lend them his own\ninconstancy, cover them with his own weakness, invest them with his own\nvices. It is thus that in reasoning, he is unable to account for the\nnecessity of things--that he imagines there is a confusion which his\nprayers will have a tendency to remove--that he thinks the evils of\nlife more than commensurate with the good: he does not perceive that an\nundeviating system, by operating upon beings diversely organized, whose\ncircumstances are different, whose modes of action are at variance, must\nof necessity sometimes appear to be inimical to the interests of\nthe individual, while it embraces the general good of the whole. The\ntheologian may subtilize, exaggerate, render as unintelligible as he\npleases, the attributes with which he clothes his divinities, he\nwill never be able to remove the contradictions which arise from the\ndiscordant qualities which he thus heaps together; neither will he be\nable to give man any other mode of judging than what arises from the\nexercise of his senses, such as they are actually found. He will never\nbe able to furnish the idea of an immutable being, while he shall\nrepresent this being as capable of being irritated and appeased by the\nprayers of mortals. He will never delineate the features of omnipotence\nunder the portrait of a being who cannot restrain the actions of his\ninferiors. He will never hold up a standard of justice, while he shall\nmingle it with mercy, however amiable the quality; or while he shall\nrepresent it as punishing those actions, which the perpetrators were\nunder the necessity of committing. Neither will he be able, under any\ncircumstances, to make a finite mind comprehend infinity; much less when\nhe shall represent this infinity as bounded by finity itself.\n\nFrom this it will be obvious, that immaterial substances, such as are\ndepicted by the theologians, can only be looked upon as the offspring\nof a metaphysical brain, unsupported by any of those proofs which are\nusually required to establish the propositions laid down among men;\nall the qualities which they ascribe to them, are only those which are\nsuitable to material substances; all the abstract properties with which\nthey invest them, are incomprehensible by material beings; the whole\ntaken together, is one confused mass of contradictions: they have held\nforth to man, that it highly imported to his interests to know, to\nunderstand these substances; he has consequently set his intellect\nin action to discover some means of compassing an end, said to be so\nconsequential to his welfare; he has, however, been unable to make any\nprogress, because no clue could be offered to him of the road he must\npursue; all was mere assertion unsupported by evidence; the whole was\nenveloped in complete darkness, into which the least scintillation of\nlight could never penetrate. Notwithstanding, as soon as man believes\nhimself greatly interested in knowing a thing, he labors to form to\nhimself an idea of that, the knowledge of which he thinks so important;\nif insuperable obstacles impede his inquiries--if difficulties of a\nmagnitude to alarm his industry intervene--if with immense labour he\nmakes but little progress, then the slender success that attends\nhis research, aided by a slothful disposition, while it wearies\nhis diligence disposes him to credulity. It was thus, that a crafty\nambitious Arab, subtle and knavish in his manners, insinuating in his\naddress, profiting by this credulous inclination, made his countrymen\nadopt his own fanciful reveries as permanent truths, of which it was not\npermitted them for an instant to doubt; following up these opinions with\nenthusiasm, he stimulated them on to become conquerors; obliging the\nconquered to lend themselves to his system, he gave currency to a creed,\ninvented solely for the purpose of enslaving mankind, which now spreads\nover immense regions inhabited by a numerous population, although like\nother systems it does not escape sectarianism, having above seventy\nbranches. Thus ignorance, despair, sloth, the want of reflecting habits,\nplace the human race in a state of dependance upon those who build up\nsystems, while upon the objects which are the foundations, they have\nno one settled idea: once adopted, however, whenever these systems are\nbrought into question, man either reasons in a very strange manner, or\nelse is the dupe of very deceitful arguments: when they are agitated,\nand he finds it impossible to understand what is said concerning them\nwhen his mind cannot embrace the ambiguity of these doctrines, he\nimagines those who speak to him are better acquainted with the\nobjects of their discourse than himself; these seizing the favourable\nopportunity, do not let it slip, they reiterate to him with Stentorian\nlungs, \"That the most certain way is to agree with what they tell him;\nto allow himself to be guided by them;\" in short, they persuade him to\nshut his eyes, that he may with greater perspicuity distinguish the\nroad he is to travel: once arrived at this influence, they indelibly fix\ntheir lessons; irrevocably chain him to the oar; by holding up to his\nview the punishments intended for him by these imaginary beings, in case\nhe refuses to accredit, in the most liberal manner, their marvellous\ninventions; this argument, although it only supposes the thing in\nquestion, serves to close his mouth--to put an end to his research;\nalarmed, confused, bewildered, he seems convinced by this victorious\nreasoning--attaches to it a sacredness that fills him with awe--blindly\nconceives that they have much clearer ideas of the subject than\nhimself--fears to perceive the palpable contradictions of the doctrines\nannounced to him, until, perhaps, some being, more subtle than those who\nhave enslaved him, by labouring the point incessantly, attacking him on\nthe weak side of his interest, arrives at throwing the absurdity of his\nsystem into light, and finally succeeds by inducing him to adopt that\nof another set of speculators. The uninformed man generally believes\nhis priests have more senses than himself; he takes them for superior\nbeings; for divine men. He only sees that which these priests inform\nhim he must contemplate; to every thing else his eyes are completely\nhoodwinked; thus the authority of the priests frequently decides,\nwithout appeal, that which is useful perhaps only to the priesthood.\n\nWhen we shall be disposed to recur to the origin of things, we shall\never find that it has been man's imagination, guided by his ignorance,\nunder the influence of fear, which gave birth to his gods; that\nenthusiasm or imposture have generally either embellished or disfigured\nthem; that credulity readily adopted the fabulous accounts which\ninterested duplicity promulgated respecting them; that these\ndispositions, sanctioned by time, became habitual. Tyrants finding their\nadvantage in sustaining them, have usually established their power upon\nthe blindness of mankind, and the superstitious fears with which it is\nalways accompanied. Thus, under whatever point of view it is considered,\nit will always be found that _error cannot be useful to the human\nspecies._\n\nNevertheless, the happy enthusiast, when his soul is sensible of its\nenjoyments, when his softened imagination has occasion to paint to\nitself a seducing object, to which he can render thanks for the kindness\nhe experiences, will ask, \"Wherefore deprive me of a being that I see\nunder the character of a sovereign, filled with wisdom, abounding in\ngoodness? What comfort do I not find in figuring to myself a powerful,\nintelligent, indulgent monarch, of whom I am the favorite; who\ncontinually occupies himself with my welfare--unceasingly watches over\nmy safety--who perpetually administers to my wants--who always consents\nthat under him I shall command the whole of nature? I believe I behold\nhim constantly showering his benefits on man; I see his Providence\nlabouring for his advantage without relaxation; he covers the earth\nwith verdure to delight him; he loads the trees with delicious fruits\nto gratify his palate; he fills the forests with animals suitable to his\nnourishment; he suspends over his head planets with innumerable stars,\nto enlighten him by day, to guide his erring steps by night; he extends\naround him the azure firmament to gladden his sight; he decorates the\nmeadows with flowers to please his fancy; he causes crystal fountains to\nflow with limpid streams to slake his thirst; he makes rivulets meander\nthrough his lands to fructify the earth; he washes his residence with\nnoble rivers, that yield him fish in abundance. Ah! suffer me to thank\nthee, Author of so many benefits: do not deprive me of my charming\nsensations. I shall not find my illusions so sweet, so consolatory in a\nsevere destiny--in a rigid necessity--in a blind inanimate matter--in a\nnature destitute of intelligence, devoid of feeling.\"\n\n\"Wherefore,\" will say the unfortunate, from whom his destiny has\nrigorously withheld those benefits which have been lavished on so many\nothers; \"wherefore ravish from me an error that is dear to me? Wherefore\nannihilate to me a being, whose consoling idea dries up the source of my\ntears--who serves to calm my sorrows? Wherefore deprive me of an object\nwhich I represent to myself as a compassionate, tender father; who\nreproves me in this world, but into whose arms I throw myself with\nconfidence, when the whole of nature appears to have abandoned me?\nSupposing it no more than a chimera, the unhappy have occasion for it,\nto guarantee them against frightful despair: is it not cruel, is it not\ninhuman, to be desirous of plunging them into a vacuum, by seeking to\nundeceive them? Is it not an useful error, preferable to those truths\nwhich deprive the mind of every consolation, which do not hold forth any\nrelief from its sorrows?\"\n\nThus will equally reason the Negro, the Mussulman, the Brachman, and\nothers. We shall reply to these enthusiasts, no! truth can never render\nyou unhappy; it is this which really consoles us; it is a concealed\ntreasure, much superior to all the superstitions ever invented by fear;\nit can cheer the heart; give it courage to support the burthens of\nlife; make us smile under adversity; elevate the soul; render it\nactive; furnishes it with means to resist the attacks of fate; to combat\nmisfortunes with success. This will shew clearly that the good and evil\nof life are distributed with an equal hand, without respect to man's\npeculiar comforts; that all beings are equally regarded in the universe;\nthat every thing is submitted to necessary laws; that man has no right\nwhatever to think himself a being peculiarly favoured--who is exempted\nfrom the common operations of the eternal routine; that it is folly to\nthink he is the only being considered--one for whose enjoyment alone\nevery thing is produced; an attention to facts will suffice to put an\nend to this delusion, however pleasant may be the indulgence of such\na notion; the most superficial glance of the eye will be sufficient\nto undeceive us in the idea, that he is the _final cause_ of the\ncreation--the constant object of the labours of nature, or of its\nAuthor. Let us seriously ask him, if he does not witness good constantly\nblended with evil? If he does not equally partake of them with the other\nbeings in nature? To be obstinately bent to see only the evil, is as\nirrational as to be willing only to notice the good. Providence seems to\nbe just as much occupied for one class of beings as for another. We see\nthe calm succeed the storm; sickness give place to health; the blessings\nof peace follow the calamities of war; the earth in every country\nbring forth roots necessary for the nourishment of man, produce others\nsuitable to his destruction. Each individual of the human species is\na compound of good and bad qualities; all nations present a varied\nspectacle of virtues, growing up beside vices; that which gladdens one\nbeing, plunges another into sadness--no event takes place that does not\ngive birth to advantages for some, to disadvantages for others. Insects\nfind a safe retreat in the ruin of the palace, which crushes man in\nits fall; man by his death furnishes food for myriads of contemptible\ninsects; animals are destroyed by thousands that he may increase his\nbulk; linger out for a season a feverish existence. We see beings\nengaged in perpetual hostility, each living at his neighbour's expence;\nthe one banquetting upon that which causes the desolation of the other;\nsome luxuriously growing into flesh upon the misery which wears others\ninto skeletons--profiting by misfortunes, rioting upon disasters, which\nultimately, reciprocally destroy them. The most deadly poisons spring up\nbeside the most wholesome fruits the earth equally nourishes the fatal\nsteel which terminates man's career, and the fruitful corn that prolongs\nhis existence; the bane and its antidote are near neighbours, repose on\nthe same bosom, ripen under the same sun, equally court the hand of the\nincautious stranger. The rivers which man believes flow for no other\npurpose than to irrigate his residence, sometimes swell their waters,\novertop their banks, inundate his fields, overturn his dwelling, and\nsweep away the flock and shepherd. The ocean, which he vainly imagines\nwas only collected together to facilitate his commerce supply him with\nfish, and wash his shores; often wrecks his ships, frequently bursts its\nboundaries, lays waste his lands, destroys the produce of his industry,\nand commits the most frightful ravages. The halcyon, delighted with the\ntempest, voluntarily mingles with the storm; rides contentedly upon the\nsurge; rejoiced by the fearful howlings of the northern blast, plays\nwith happy buoyancy upon the foaming billows, that have ruthlessly\ndashed in pieces the vessel of the unfortunate mariner; who, plunged\ninto an abyss of misery, with tremulous emotion clings to the wreck;\nviews with horrific despair, the premature destruction of his indulged\nhopes; sighs deeply at the thoughts of home; with aching heart, thinks\nof the cherished friends his streaming eyes will never more behold in an\nagony of soul dwells upon the faithful affection of an adored wife, who\nwill never again repose her drooping head upon his manly bosom; grows\nwild with the appalling remembrance of beloved children, his wearied\narms will never more encircle with parental fondness; then sinks for\never, the unhappy victim of circumstances that fill with glee the\nfluttering bird, who sees him yield to the overwhelming force of the\ninfuriate waves. The conqueror displays his military skill, fights a\nsanguinary battle, puts his enemy to the rout, lays waste his country,\nslaughters thousands of his fellows, plunges whole districts into tears,\nfills the land with the moans of the fatherless, the wailings of the\nwidow, in order that the crows may have a banquet--that ferocious beasts\nmay gluttonously gorge themselves with human gore--that worms may riot\nin luxury.\n\nThus when there is a question concerning an agent we see act so\nvariously; whose motives seem sometimes to be advantageous, sometimes\ndisadvantageous for the human race; at least each individual will judge\nafter the peculiar mode in which he is himself affected; there will\nconsequently be no fixed point, no general standard in the opinions\nmen will form to themselves. Indeed our mode of judging will always\nbe governed by our manner of seeing, by our way of feeling. This\nwill depend upon our temperament, which itself springs out of our\norganization, and the peculiarity of the circumstances in which we are\nplaced; these can never be the same for all the beings of our species.\nThese individual modes of being affected, then, will always furnish the\ncolours of the portrait which man may paint to himself of the Divinity;\nit must therefore be obvious they can never be determinate--can have\nno fixity--can never be reduced to any graduated scale; the inductions\nwhich they may draw from them, can never be either constant or uniform;\neach will always judge after himself, will never see any thing but\nhimself or his own peculiar situation in the picture he delineates.\n\nThis granted, the man who has a contented, sensible soul, with a lively\nimagination, will paint the Divinity under the most charming traits; he\nwill believe that he sees in the whole of nature nothing but proofs of\nbenevolence, evidence of goodness, because it will unceasingly cause him\nagreeable sensations. In his poetical extacy he will imagine he every\nwhere perceives the impression of a perfect intelligence--of an infinite\nwisdom--of a providence tenderly occupied with the welfare of man;\nself-love joining itself to these exalted qualities, will put the\nfinishing hand to his persuasion, that the universe is made solely for\nthe human race; he will strive in imagination to kiss with transport the\nhand from which he believes he receives so many benefits; touched with\nhis kindness, gratified with the perfume of roses whose thorns he does\nnot perceive, or which his extatic delirium prevents him from feeling,\nhe will think he can never sufficiently acknowledge the necessary\neffects, which he will look upon as indubitable testimony of the divine\npredilection for man. Completely inebriated with these feelings, this\nenthusiast will not behold those sorrows, will not notice that confusion\nof which the universe is the theatre: or if it so happens, he cannot\nprevent himself from being a witness, he will be persuaded that in the\nviews of an indulgent providence, these calamities are necessary to\nconduct man to a higher state of felicity; the reliance which he has in\nthe Divinity, upon whom he imagines they depend, induces him to believe,\nthat man only suffers for his good; that this being, who is fruitful in\nresources, will know how to make him reap advantage from the evils which\nhe experiences in this world: his mind thus pre-occupied, from thence\nsees nothing that does not elicit his admiration call forth his\ngratitude; excite his confidence; even those effects which are the most\nnatural, the most necessary, appear in his eyes miracles of benevolence;\nprodigies of goodness: he shuts his eyes to the disorders which could\nbring these amiable qualities into question: the most cruel calamities,\nthe most afflicting events, the most heart-rending circumstances, cease\nto be disorders in his eyes, and do nothing, more than furnish him with\nnew proofs of the divine perfections; he persuades himself that what\nappears defective or imperfect, is only so in appearance; he admires the\nwisdom, acknowledges the bounty of the Divinity, even in those effects\nwhich are the most terrible for his race--most suitable to discourage\nhis species--most fraught with misery for his fellow.\n\nIt is, without doubt, to this happy disposition of the human mind,\nin some beings of his order, that is to be ascribed the system of\n_Optimism_, by which enthusiasts, furnished with a romantic imagination,\nseem to have renounced the evidence of their senses: to find that even\nfor man every thing is good in nature, where the good has constantly its\nconcomitant evil, and where minds less prejudiced, less poetical, would\njudge that every thing is only that which it can be--that the good\nand the evil are equally necessary--that they have their source in\nthe nature of things; moreover, in order to attribute any particular\ncharacter to the events that take place, it would be needful to know the\naim of the whole: now the whole cannot have an aim, because if it had a\ntendency, an aim, or end, it would no longer be the whole, seeing that\nthat to which it tended would be a part not included.\n\nIt will be asserted by some, that the evils which we behold in this\nworld are only relative, merely apparent; that they prove nothing\nagainst the good: but does not man almost uniformly judge after his own\nmode of feeling; after his manner of co-existing with those causes\nby which he is encompassed; which constitute the order of nature with\nrelation to himself; consequently, he ascribes wisdom and goodness to\nall that which affects him pleasantly, disorder to that state of things\nby which he is injured. Nevertheless every thing which we witness in\nthe world conspires to prove to us, that whatever is, is necessary; that\nnothing is done by chance; that all the events, good or bad, whether\nfor us or for beings of a different order, are brought about by causes\nacting after certain and determinate laws; that nothing can he\na sufficient warrantry in us to clothe with any one of our human\nqualities, either nature or the motive-power which has been given to\nher.\n\nWith respect to those who pretend that supreme wisdom will know how\nto draw the greatest benefits for us, even out of the bosom of those\ncalamities which it is permitted we shall experience in this world; we\nshall ask them, if they are themselves the confidents of the Divinity;\nor upon what they found these assertions so flattering to their hopes?\nThey will, without doubt, tell us they judge by analogy; that from the\nactual proofs of goodness and wisdom, they have a just right to conclude\nin favour of future bounty. Would it not be a fair reply to ask, If they\nreason by analogy, and man has not been rendered completely happy in\nthis world, what analogy informs them he will be so in another? If,\naccording to their own shewing, man is sometimes made the victim of evil\nin his present existence, in order that he may attain a greater good,\ndoes not analogical reasoning, which they say they adopt, clearly\nwarrant a deduction, that the same afflictions, for the same purposes,\nwill be equally proper, equally requisite in the world to come?\n\nThus this language founds itself upon ruinous hypotheses, which have\nfor their bases only a prejudiced imagination. It, in fact, signifies\nnothing more than that man once persuaded, without any evidence, of his\nfuture happiness, will not believe it possible he can be permitted to be\nunhappy: but might it not be inquired what testimony does he find, what\nsubstantive knowledge has he obtained of the peculiar good that results\nto the human species from those sterilities, from those famines, from\nthose contagions, from those sanguinary conflicts, which cause so many\nmillions of men to perish; which unceasingly depopulate the earth,\nand desolate the world we inhabit? Is there any one who has sufficient\ncompass of comprehension to ascertain the advantages that result from\nthe evils that besiege us on all sides? Do we not daily witness beings\nconsecrated to misfortune, from the moment they quitted the womb of the\nparent who brought them into existence, until that which re-committed\nthem to the earth, to sleep in peace with their fathers; who with great\ndifficulty found time to respire; lived the constant sport of fortune;\noverwhelmed with affliction, immersed in grief, enduring the most cruel\nreverses? Who is to measure the precise quantity of misery required to\nderive a certain portion of good? Who is to say when the measure of evil\nwill be full which it is necessary to suffer?\n\nThe most enthusiastic Optimists, the _Theists_ themselves, the partizans\nof _Natural Religion_, as well as the most credulous and superstitious,\nare obliged to recur to the system of another life, to remedy the evils\nman is decreed to suffer in the present; but have they really any just\nfoundation to suppose the next world will afford him a happiness\ndenied him in this? If it is necessary to recur to a doctrine so little\nprobable as that of a future existence, by what chain of reasoning do\nthey establish their opinion, that when he shall no longer have organs,\nby the aid of which he is at present alone enabled either to enjoy or\nto suffer, he shall be able to compensate the evils he has endured; to\nenjoy a felicity, to partake of a pleasure this organic structure has\nrefused him while on his pilgrimage through the land of his fathers.\n\nFrom this it will be seen, that the proofs of a sovereign intelligence,\nor of a magnified human quality drawn from the order, from the harmony,\nfrom the beauty of the universe, are never more than those which are\nderived from men who are organized and modified after a certain mode;\nor whose cheerful imagination is so constructed as to give birth to\nagreeable chimeras which they embellish according to their fancy: these\nillusions, however, must be frequently dissipated even in themselves,\nwhenever their machine becomes deranged; when sorrows assail them, when\nmisfortune corrodes their mind; the spectacle of nature, which under\ncertain circumstances has appeared to them so delightful, so seducing,\nmust then give place to disorder, must yield to confusion. A man\nof melancholy temperament, soured by misfortunes, made irritable\nby infirmities, cannot view nature and her author under the same\nperspective, as the healthy man of a sprightly humour, who is contented\nwith every thing. Deprived of happiness, the fretful man can only find\ndisorder, can see nothing but deformity, can find nothing but subjects\nto afflict himself with; he only contemplates the universe as the\ntheatre of malice, as the stage for tyrants to execute their vengeance;\nhe grows superstitious, he gives way to credulity, and not unfrequently\nbecomes cruel, in order to serve a master whom he believes he has\noffended.\n\nIn consequence of these ideas, which have their growth in an unhappy\ntemperament, which originate in a peevish humour, which are the\noffspring of a disturbed imagination, the superstitious are constantly\ninfected with terror, are the slaves to mistrust, the creatures of\ndiscontent, continually in a state of fearful alarm. Nature cannot have\ncharms for them; her countless beauties pass by unheeded; they do\nnot participate in her cheerful scenes; they look upon this world, so\nmarvellous to the happy man, so good to the contented enthusiast, as a\n_valley of tears_, in which a vindictive fate has placed them only to\nexpiate crimes committed either by themselves or by their fathers; they\nconsider themselves as sent here for no other purpose than to be the\nsharers of calamity; the sport of a capricious fortune; that they are\nthe children of sorrow, destined to undergo the severest trials, to the\nend that they may everlastingly arrive at a new existence, in which they\nshall be either happy or miserable, according to their conduct towards\nthe ministers of a being who holds their destiny in his hands. These\ndismal notions have been the source of all the irrational systems\nthat have ever prevailed; they have given birth to the most revolting\npractices, currency to the most absurd customs. History abounds with\ndetails of the most atrocious cruelties, under the imposing name of\npublic worship; nothing has been considered either too fantastical or\ntoo flagitious by the votaries of superstition. Parents have immolated\ntheir children; lovers have sacrificed the objects of their affection;\nfriends have destroyed each other: the most bloody disputes have been\nfomented; the most interminable animosities have been engendered, to\ngratify the whim of implacable priests, who by crafty inventions have\nobtained an influence over the people; to please blind zealots, who have\nnever been able either to give fixity to their ideas, or to define\ntheir own feelings. Idle dreamers nourished with bile, intoxicated\nwith theologic fury--atrabilarians, whose melancholic humour frequently\ndisposes them to wickedness--visionaries, whose devious imaginations,\nheated with intemperate zeal, generally leads them to the extremes of\nfanaticism, working upon ignorance, whose usual bias is credulity,\nhave incessantly disturbed the harmony of mankind, kindled the\ninextinguishable flame of discord, and in an almost uninterrupted\nsuccession, strewed the earth with the mangled carcasses of the\nmultitudinous victims to mad-brained error, whose only crime has been\ntheir incapacity to dream according to the rules prescribed by these\ninfuriate maniacs; although these have never been uniform--never\nassimilated in any two countries--never borne the same features in\nany two ages, nor even had the united concurrence of the persecuting\ncontemporaries.\n\nIt is then in the diversity of temperament, arising from variety of\norganization--in the contrariety of passions, springing out of this\nmiscellany, modified by the most opposite circumstances, that must\nbe sought the difference we find in the opinions of the theist,\nthe optimist, the happy enthusiast, the zealot, the devotee, the\nsuperstitious of all denominations; they are all equally irrational--the\ndupes of their imagination--the blind children of error. What one\ncontemplates under a favorable point of view, the other never looks\nupon but on the dark side; that which is the object of the most sedulous\nresearch to one set, is that which the others most seek to avoid: each\ninsists he is right; no one offers the least shadow of substantive proof\nof what he asserts; each points out the great importance of his mission,\nyet cannot even agree with his colleagues in the embassy, either upon\nthe nature of their instructions, or the means to be adopted. It is thus\nwhenever man sets forth a false supposition, all the reasonings he makes\non it are only a long tissue of errors, which entail on him an endless\nseries of misfortunes; every time he renounces the evidence of\nhis senses, it is impossible to calculate the bounds at which his\nimagination will stop; when he once quits the road of experience, when\nhe travels out of nature, when he loses sight of his reason, to strike\ninto the labyrinths of conjecture, it is difficult to ascertain where\nhis folly will lead him--into what mischievous swamps this _ignis\nfatuus_ of the mind may beguile his wandering steps. It is certainly\ntrue, the ideas of the happy enthusiast will be less dangerous to\nhimself, less baneful to others, than those of the atrabilarious\nfanatic, whose temperament may render him both cowardly and cruel;\nnevertheless the opinions of the one and of the other will not be less\nchimerical; the only difference will be, that of the first will produce\nagreeable, cheerful dreams; while that of the second will present\nthe most appalling visions, terrific spectres, the fruit of a peevish\ntransport of the brain: there will, however, never be more than a step\nbetween them all; the smallest revolution in the machine, a slight\ninfirmity, an unforeseen affliction, suffices to change the course\nof the humours--to vitiate the temperament--to endanger the\norganization--to overturn the whole system of opinions of the happiest.\nAs soon as the portrait is found disfigured, the beautiful order\nof things is overthrown relatively to himself; melancholy grapples\nhim--pusillanimity benumbs his faculties--by degrees plunges, him into\nthe rankest depths of gloomy superstition; he then degenerates into all\nthose irregularities which are the dismal harvest of fanatic ignorance\nploughed with credulity.\n\nThose ideas, which have no archetype but in the imagination of man,\nmust necessarily take their complexion from his own character; must be\nclothed with his own passions; must constantly follow the revolutions of\nhis machine; be lively or gloomy; favourable or prejudicial; friendly\nor inimical; sociable or savage; humane or cruel; according as he whose\nbrain they inhabit shall himself be disposed; in fact, they can never be\nmore than the shadow of the substance he himself interposes between the\nlight and the ground on which they are thrown. A mortal plunged from a\nstate of happiness into misery, whose health merges into sickness, whose\njoy is changed into affliction, cannot in these vicissitudes preserve\nthe same ideas; these naturally depend every instant upon the\nvariations, which physical sensations oblige his organs to undergo.\nIt will not therefore appear strange that these opinions should be\nfluctuating, when they depend upon the state of the nervous fluid, upon\nthe greater or less portion of igneous matter floating in the sanguinary\nvessels.\n\n_Theism_, or what is called _Natural Religion_, cannot have certain\nprinciples; those who profess it must necessarily be subject to vary in\ntheir opinions--to fluctuate in their conduct, which flows out of\nthem. A system founded upon wisdom and intelligence, which can never\ncontradict itself, when circumstances change will presently be converted\ninto fanaticism; rapidly degenerate into superstition; such a system,\nsuccessively meditated by enthusiasts of very distinct characters,\nmust of necessity experience vicissitudes, and quickly depart from its\nprimitive simplicity. The greater part of those philosophers who have\nbeen disposed to substitute theism for superstition, have not felt\nthat it was formed to corrupt itself--to degenerate. Striking examples,\nhowever, prove this fatal truth. Theism is almost every where corrupted;\nit has by degrees given way to those superstitions, to those extravagant\nsects, to those prejudicial opinions with which the human species is\ndegraded. As soon as man consents to acknowledge invisible powers out\nof nature, upon which his restless mind will never be able invariably to\nfix his ideas--which his imagination alone will be capable of painting\nto him; whenever he shall not dare to consult his reason relatively to\nthose powers, it must necessarily be, that the first false step leads\nhim astray, that his conduct as well as his opinions becomes in the long\nrun perfectly absurd.\n\nThose are usually called Theists, who, undeceived upon the greater\nnumber of grosser errors to which the uninformed, the superstitiously\nignorant, tend the most determined support, simply hold the notion of\nunknown agents endowed with intelligence, wisdom, power and goodness, in\nshort, full of infinite perfections, whom they distinguish from nature,\nbut whom they clothe after their own fashion; to whom they ascribe their\nown limited views; whom they make act according to their own absurd\npassions. The religion of Abraham appears to have originally been a kind\nof theism, imagined to reform the superstition of the Chaldeans; Moses\nmodified it, and gave it the Judaical form. Socrates was a theist, who\nlost his life in his attack on polytheism; his disciple Aristocles, or\nPlato, as he was afterwards called from his large shoulders, embellished\nthe theism of his master, with the mystical colours which he borrowed\nfrom the Egyptian and Chaldean priests, which he modified in his own\npoetical brain, and preserved a remnant of polytheism. The disciples\nof Plato, such as Proclus, Ammonius, Jamblicus. Plotinus, Longinus,\nPorphyrus, and others, dressed it up still more fantastically, added a\ngreat deal of superstitious mummery, blended it with magic, and other\nunintelligible doctrines. The first doctors of Christianity were\nPlatonists, who combined the reformed Judaism with the philosophy taught\nin Academia. Mahomet, in combating the polytheism of his country, seems\nto have been desirous of restoring the primitive theism of Abraham, and\nhis son Ishmael; yet this has now seventy-two sects. Thus it will be\nobvious, that theism has no fixed point, no standard, no common measure\nmore than other systems: that it runs from one supposition to another,\nto find in what manner evil has crept into the world. Indeed it has been\nfor this purpose, which perhaps after all will never be satisfactorily\nexplained, that the doctrine of free-agency was introduced; that the\nfable of Prometheus and the box of Pandora was imagined; that the\nhistory of the Titanes was invented; notwithstanding, it must be evident\nthat these things as well as all the other trappings of superstition,\nare not more difficult of comprehension than the immaterial substances\nof the theists; the mind who can admit that beings devoid of parts,\ndestitute of organs, without bulk, can move matter, think like man, have\nthe moral qualities of human nature, need not hesitate to allow that\nceremonies, certain motions of the body, words, rites, temples, statues,\ncan equally contain secret virtues; has no occasion to withhold its\nfaith from the concealed powers of magic, theurgy, enchantments, charms,\ntalismans, &c.; can shew no good reason why it should not accredit\ninspirations, dreams, visions, omens, soothsayers, metamorphoses, and\nall the host of occult sciences: when things so contradictory to the\ndictates of reason, so completely opposed to good sense are freely\nadmitted, there can no longer be an thing which ought to possess the\nright to make credulity revolt; those who give sanction to the one,\nmay without much hesitation believe whatever else is offered to their\ncredence. It would be impossible to mark the precise point at which\nimagination ought to arrest itself--the exact boundary that should\ncircumscribe belief--the true dose of folly that may be permitted them;\nor the degree of indulgence that can with safety be extended to\nthose priests who are in the habit of teaching so variously, so\ncontradictorily, what man ought to think on the subjects they handle\nso advantageously to themselves; who when it becomes a question what\nremuneration is due from mankind for their unwearied exertions in\nhis favour, are, in spite of all their other differences, in the most\nperfect union; except perhaps when they come to the division of\nthe spoil: in this, indeed, the apple of discord sometimes takes a\ntremendous roll. Thus it will be clear that there can be no substantive\ngrounds for separating the theists from the most superstitious; that it\nbecomes impossible to fix the line of demarcation, which divides them\nfrom the most credulous of men; to shew the land-marks by which they\ncan be discriminated from those who reason with the least conclusive\npersuasion. If the theist refuses to follow up the fanatic in every step\nof his cullibility, he is at least more inconsequent than the last, who\nhaving admitted upon hearsay an inconsistent, whimsical doctrine, also\nadopts upon report the ridiculous, strange means which it furnishes him.\nThe first sets forth with an absurd supposition, of which he rejects\nthe necessary consequences; the other admits both the principle and the\nconclusion. There are no degrees in fiction any more than in truth. If\nwe admit the superstition, we are bound to receive every thing which\nits ministers promulgate, as emanating from its principle. None of\nthe reveries of superstition embrace any thing more incredible than\nimmateriality; these reveries are only corollaries drawn with more\nor less subtilty from unintelligible subjects, by those who have an\ninterest in supporting the system. The inductions which dreamers have\nmade, by dint of meditating on impenetrable materials, are nothing\nmore than ingenious conclusions, which have been drawn with wonderful\naccuracy, from unknown premises, that are modestly offered to the\nsanction of mankind by enthusiasts, who claim an unconditional assent,\nbecause they assure us no one of the human race is in a capacity either\nto see, feel, or comprehend the object of their contemplation. Does not\nthis somewhat remind us of what Rabelais describes as the employment of\nQueen Whim's officers, in his fifth book and twenty-second chapter?\n\nLet us then acknowledge, that the man who is this most credulously\nsuperstitious, reasons in a more conclusive manner, or is at least more\nconsistent in his credulity, than those, who, after having admitted a\ncertain position of which they have no one idea, stop short all at once,\nand refuse to accredit that system of conduct which is the immediate,\nthe necessary result of a radical and primitive error. As soon as they\nsubscribe to a principle fatally opposed to reason, by what right do\nthey dispute its consequences, however absurd they may be found? We\ncannot too often repeat, for the happiness of mankind, that the human\nmind, let it torture itself as much as it will, when it quits visible\nnature leads itself astray; for want of an intelligent guide it wanders\nin tracks that bewilder its powers, and is quickly obliged, to return\ninto that with which it has at least some, acquaintance. If man mistakes\nnature and her energies, it is because he does not sufficiently study\nher--because he does not submit to the test of experience the phenomena\nhe beholds; if he will obstinately deprive her of motion, he can\nno longer have any ideas of her. Does, he, however, elucidate his\nembarrassments, by submitting her action to the agency of a being of\nwhich he makes himself the model? Does he think he forms a god, when\nhe assembles into one heterogeneous mass, his own discrepant qualities,\nmagnified until his optics are no longer competent to recognize them,\nand then unites to them certain abstract properties of which he cannot\nform to himself any one conception? Does he, in fact, do more than\ncollect together that which becomes, in consequence of its association,\nperfectly unintelligible? Yet, strange as it may appear, when he no\nlonger understands himself--when his mind, lost in its own fictions,\nbecomes inadequate to decipher the characters he has thus promiscuously\nassembled--when he has huddled together a heap of incomprehensible,\nabstract qualities, which he is obliged to acknowledge are the mere\ncreatures of imagination, not within the reach of human intellect,\nhe firmly persuades himself he has made a most accurate and beautiful\nportrait of the Divinity; he ostentatiously displays his picture,\ndemands the eulogy of the spectator, and quarrels with all those who do\nnot agree to adulate his creative powers, by adopting the inconceivable\nbeing he holds forth to their worship; in short, to question the\nexistence of his extravaganza, rouses his most bitter reproaches;\nelicits his everlasting scorn; entails on the incredulous his eternal\nhatred.\n\nOn the other hand, what could we expect from such a being, as they have\nsupposed him to be? What could we consistently ask of him? How make\nan immaterial being, who has neither organs, space, point, or contact,\nunderstand that modification of matter called voice? Admit that this\nis the being who moves nature--who establishes her laws--who gives to\nbeings their various essences--who endows them with their respective\nproperties; if every thing that takes place is the fruit of his infinite\nprovidence--the proof of his profound wisdom, to what end shall we\naddress our prayers to him? Shall we solicit him to acknowledge that\nthe wisdom and providence with which we have clothed him, are in fact\nerroneous, by entreating him to alter in our favour his eternal laws?\nShall we give him to understand our wisdom exceeds his own, by asking,\nhim for our pleasure to change the properties of bodies--to annihilate\nhis immutable decrees--to trace back the invariable course of things--to\nmake beings act in opposition to the essences with which he has thought\nit right to invest them? Will he at our intercession prevent a body\nponderous and hard by its nature, such as a stone, for example, from\nwounding, in its fall a sensitive being such as the human frame? Again,\nshould we not, in fact, challenge impossibilities, if the discordant\nattributes brought into union by the theologians were correct; would\nnot immutability oppose itself to omnipotence; mercy to the exercise\nof rigid justice; omniscience, to the changes that might be required in\nforeseen plans? In physics, in consequence of the general research\nafter a perpetual motion, science has drawn forth the discovery, that\nby amalgamating metals of contrary properties, the contractile powers\nof one kind, under given circumstances which cause the dilation of the\nother, by their opposite tendencies neutralize the actual effects\nof each, taken separately, and thus produce an equality in the\noscillations, that, neither possessed individually.\n\nIt will perhaps, be insisted, that the infinite science of the Creator\nof all things, is acquainted with resources in the beings he has formed,\nwhich are concealed from imbecile mortals; that consequently without\nchanging any thing, either in the laws of nature, or in the essence\nof things, he is competent to produce effects which surpass the\ncomprehension of our feeble understanding; that these, effects will in\nno wise be contrary to that order which he himself has established in\nnature. Granted: but then I reply, _first_, that every thing which is\nconformable to the nature of things, can neither be called\nsupernatural nor miraculous: many things are, unquestionably, above\nour comprehension; but then all that is operated in the world is\nnatural--grows out of those immutable laws by which nature is regulated.\nIn the _second_ place, it will be requisite to observe, that by the\nword miracle an effect is designed, of which, for want of understanding\nnature, she is believed incapable. In the _third_ place, it is worthy of\nremark, that the theologians, almost universally, insist that by miracle\nis meant not an extraordinary effort of nature, but an effect directly\nopposite to her laws, which nevertheless they equally challenge to\nhave been prescribed by the Divinity. Buddaeus says, \"a miracle is an\noperation by which the laws of nature, upon which depend the order\nand the preservation of the universe, are suspended.\" If, however, the\nDeity, in those phenomena that most excite our surprise, does nothing\nmore than give play to springs unknown to mortals, there is, then,\nnothing in nature, which, in this sense, may not be looked upon as a\nmiracle; because the cause by which a stone falls is as unknown to us,\nas that which makes our globe turn on its own axis. Thus, to explain\nthe phenomena of nature by a miracle, is, in other words, to say we are\nignorant of the actuating causes; to attribute them to the Divinity,\nis to agree we do not comprehend the resources of nature: it is\nlittle better than accrediting magic. To attribute to a sovereignly\nintelligent, immutable, provident, wise being, those miracles by which\nhe derogates from his own laws, is at one blow to annihilate all these\nqualities: it is an inconsistency that would shame a child. It cannot be\nsupposed that omnipotence has need of miracles to govern the universe,\nnor to convince his creatures, whose minds and hearts must be in his\nown hands. The last refuge of the theologian, when driven off all other\nground, is the possibility of every thing he asserts, couched in the\ndogma, \"that nothing is impossible to the Divinity.\" He makes this\nasseveration with a degree of self-complacency, with an air of triumph,\nthat would almost persuade one he could not be mistaken; most assuredly,\nwith those who dip no further than the surface, he carries complete\nconviction. But we must take leave to examine a little the nature of\nthis proposition, and we do apprehend that a very slight degree of\nconsideration will shew that it is untenable. In the _first_ place, as\nwe have before observed, the possibility of a thing by no means proves\nits absolute existence: a thing may be extremely possible, and yet not\nbe. _Secondly_, if this was once to become an admitted argument, there\nwould be, in fact, an end of all morality and religion. The Bishop of\nChester, Doctor John Wilkins, says, \"would not such men be generally\naccounted out of their wits, who could please themselves by entertaining\nactual hopes of any thing, merely upon account of the possibility of\nit, or torment themselves with actual fears of all such evils as are\npossible? Is there any thing imaginable wore wild and extravagant\namongst those in bedlam than this would be?\" _Thirdly_, the\nimpossibility would reasonably appear to be on the other side, so far\nfrom nothing being impossible, every thing that is erroneous would seem\nto be actually so; the Divinity could not possibly either love vice,\ncherish crime, be pleased with depravity, or commit wrong; this\ndecidedly turns the argument against them; they must either admit the\nmost monstrous of all suppositions, or retire from behind the shield\nwith which they have imagined they rendered themselves invulnerable.\n\nTo those who may be inclined to inquire, whether it would not be better\nthat all things were operated by a good, wise, intelligent Being, than\nby a blind nature, in which not one consoling quality is found; by a\nfatal necessity always inexorable to human intreaty? It may be replied,\n_first_, that our interest does not decide the reality of things, and\nthat when this should be even wore advantageous than it is pointed out,\nit would prove nothing. _Secondly_, that as we are obliged to admit\nsome things are operated by nature, it is certainly on the side of\nprobability that she performs the others; especially as her capabilities\nare more substantively proved by every age as it advances. _Thirdly_,\nthat nature duly studied furnishes every thing necessary to render us\nas, happy as our essence admits. When, guided by experience, we shall\nconsult her, with cultivated reason; she will discover to us our\nduties, that is to say, the indispensable means to which her eternal and\nnecessary laws have attached our preservation, our own happiness,\nand that of society. It is decidedly in her bosom that we shall find\nwherewith to satisfy our physical wants; whatever is out of nature, can\nhave no existence relatively to ourselves.\n\nNature, then, is not a step-mother to us; we do not depend upon an\ninexorable destiny. Let us therefore endeavour to become more familiar\nwith her resources; she will procure us a multitude of benefits when we\nshall pay her the attention she deserves: when we shall feel disposed\nto consult her, she will supply us with the requisites to alleviate both\nour physical and moral evils: she only punishes us with rigour, when,\nregardless of her admonitions, we plunge into excesses that disgrace us.\nHas the voluptuary any reason to complain of the sharp pains inflicted\nby the gout, when experience, if he had but attended to its counsels,\nhas so often warned him, that the grossness of sensual indulgence must\ninevitably amass in his machine those humours which give birth to the\nagony he so acutely feels? Has the superstitious bigot any cause\nfor repining at the misery of his uncertain ideas, when an attentive\nexamination of that nature, he holds of such small account, would have\nconvinced him that the idols under whom he trembles, are nothing but\npersonifications of herself, disguised under some other name? It is\nevidently by incertitude, discord, blindness, delirium, she chastises\nthose who refuse to, acknowledge the justice of her claims.\n\nIn the mean time, it cannot be denied, that a pure Theism, or what is\ncalled Natural Religion, may not be preferable to superstition, in the\nsame manner as reform has banished many of the abuses of those countries\nwho have embraced it; but there is nothing short of an unlimited and\ninviolable liberty of thought, that can permanently assure the repose\nof the mind. The opinions of men are only dangerous when they are\nrestrained, or when it is imagined necessary to make others think as\nwe ourselves think. No opinions, not even those of superstition itself,\nwould be dangerous, if the superstitious did not think themselves\nobliged to enforce their adoption, or had not the power to persecute\nthose who refused. It is this prejudice, which, for the benefit\nof mankind, it is essential to annihilate; and if the thing be not\nachievable, then the next object which philosophy may reasonably propose\nto itself, will be to make the depositaries of power feel that\nthey never ought to permit their subjects to commit evil for either\nsuperstitious or religious opinions. In this case, wars would be almost\nunheard of amongst men: instead of beholding the melancholy spectacle of\nman cutting the throat of his fellow man, because this cannot see\nwith his eyes, we shall witness him essentially labouring to his own\nhappiness by promoting that of his neighbour; cultivating the earth\nin peace; quietly bringing forth the productions of nature, instead of\npuzzling his brain with theological disputes, which can never be of the\nsmallest advantage, except to the priests. It must be a self-evident\ntruth, that an argument by men, upon that which is not accessible to\nman, _could only have been invented by knaves, who, like the professors\nof legerdemain, were determined to riot luxuriously on the ignorance and\ncredulity of mankind._\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. VIII.\n\n_Examination of the Advantages which result from Man's Notions on\nthe Divinity.--Of their Influence upon Mortals;--upon Politics;--upon\nScience;--upon the Happiness of Nations, and that of Individuals._\n\n\nThe slender foundation of those ideas which men form to themselves of\ntheir gods, must have appeared obvious in what has preceded; the proofs\nwhich have been offered in support of the existence of immaterial\nsubstances, have been examined; the want of harmony that exists in the\nopinions upon this subject, which all concur in agreeing to be equally\nimpossible to be known to the inhabitants of the earth, has been shewn;\nthe incompatibility of the attributes with which, theology has clothed\nincorporeity, has been explained. It has been proved, that the idols\nwhich man sets up for adoration, have usually had their birth, either in\nthe bosom of misfortune, when ignorance was at a loss to account for the\ncalamities of the earth upon natural principles, or else have been the\nshapeless fruit of melancholy, working upon an alarmed mind, coupled\nwith enthusiasm and an unbridled imagination. It has been pointed out\nhow these prejudices, transmitted by tradition from father to son,\ngrafting themselves upon infant minds, cultivated by education,\nnourished by fear, corroborated by habit, have been maintained by\nauthority; perpetuated by example. In short, every thing must have\ndistinctly evidenced to us, that the ideas of the gods, so generally\ndiffused over the earth, has been little more than an universal delusion\nof the human race. It remains now to examine if this error has been\nuseful.\n\nIt needs little to prove error can never be advantageous for mankind;\nit is ever founded upon his ignorance, which is itself an acknowledged\nevil; it springs out of the blindness of his mind to acknowledged\ntruths, and his want of experience, which it must be admitted are\nprejudicial to his interests: the more importance, therefore, he\nshall attach to these errors, the more fatal will be the consequences\nresulting from their adoption. Bacon, the illustrious sophist, who first\nbrought philosophy out of the schools, had great reason when he said,\n\"The worst of all things is deified error.\" Indeed, the mischiefs\nspringing from superstition or religious errors, have been, and always\nwill be, the most terrible in their consequences--the most extensive in\ntheir devastation. The more these errors are respected, the more play\nthey give to the passions; the more value is attached to them, the\nmore the mind is disturbed; the more they are insisted upon, the\nmore irrational they render those, who are seized with the rage for\nproselytism; the more they are cherished, the greater influence they\nhave on the whole conduct of our lives. Indeed, there can he but little\nlikelihood that he who renounces his reason, in the thing which he\nconsiders as most essential to his happiness, will listen to it on any\nother occasion.\n\nThe slightest reflection will afford ample proof to this sad truth: in\nthose fatal notions which man has cherished on this subject, are to be\ntraced the true sources of all those prejudices, the fountain of all\nthose sorrows, to which he is the victim. Nevertheless, as we have\nelsewhere said, utility ought to be the only standard, the uniform\nscale, by which to form a judgment on either the opinions, the\ninstitutions, the systems, or the actions of intelligent beings; it is\naccording to the measure of happiness which these things procure for us,\nthat we ought either to cover them with our esteem, or expose them to\nour contempt. Whenever they are useless it is our duty to despise them;\nas soon as they become pernicious, it is imperative to reject\nthem; reason imperiously prescribes that our detestation should be\ncommensurate with the evils which they cause.\n\nTaking these principles for a land-mark, which are founded on our\nnature, which must appear incontestible to every reasonable being, with\nexperience for a beacon, let us coolly examine the effects which these\nnotions have produced on the earth. We have already, in more than one\npart of the work, given a glimpse of the doctrine of that morals, which\nhaving only for object the preservation of man, and his conduct in\nsociety, can have nothing, in common with imaginary systems: it has been\nshewn, that the essence of a sensitive, intelligent, rational being,\nproperly meditated, would discover motives competent to moderate\nthe fury of his passions--to induce him to resist his vicious\npropensities--to make him fly criminal habits--to invite him to render\nhimself useful to those beings for whom his own necessities have a\ncontinual occasion; thus, to endear himself to his, fellow mortals, to\nbecome respectable in his own esteem. These motives will unquestionably\nbe admitted to possess more solidity, to embrace greater, potency, to\ninvolve more truth, than those which are borrowed from systems that want\nstability; that assume more shapes than there are languages; that are\nnot tangible to the tact of humanity; that must of necessity present a\ndifferent perspective to all who shall view them through the medium of\nprejudice. From what has been advanced, it will be felt that education,\nwhich should make man in early life contract good habits, adopt\nfavorable dispositions, fortified by a respect for public opinion,\ninvigorated by ideas of decency, strengthened by wholesome laws,\ncorroborated by the desire of meriting the friendship of others,\nstimulated by the fear of losing his own esteem, would be fully adequate\nto accustom him to a laudable conduct, amply sufficient to divert\nhim from even those secret crimes, from which he is obliged to punish\nhimself by remorse; which costs him the most incessant labour to keep\nconcealed, by the dread of that shame, which must always follow their\npublicity. Experience demonstrates in the clearest manner, that the\nsuccess of a first crime disposes him to commit a second; impunity leads\non to the third, this to a lamentable sequel that frequently closes a\nwretched career with the most ignominious exhibition; thus the first\ndelinquency is the commencement of a habit: there is much less distance\nfrom this to the hundredth, than from innocence to criminality: the man,\nhowever, who lends himself to a series of bad actions, under even the\nassurance of impunity, is most woefully deceived, because he cannot\navoid castigating himself: moreover, he cannot know at what point of\niniquity he shall stop. It has been shewn, that those punishments which\nsociety, for its own preservation, has the right to inflict on those\nwho disturb its harmony, are more substantive, more efficacious, more\nsalutary in their effects, than all the distant torments held forth by\nthe priests; they intervene a more immediate obstacle to the stubborn\npropensities of those obdurate wretches, who, insensible to the charms\nof virtue, are deaf to the advantages that spring from its practice,\nthan can be opposed by the denunciations, held forth in an hereafter\nexistence, which he is at the same moment taught may be avoided by\nrepentance, that shall only take place when the ability to commit\nfurther wrong has ceased. In short, one would be led to think it obvious\nto the slightest reflection, that politics, founded upon the nature of\nman, upon the principles of society, armed with equitable laws, vigilant\nover morals, faithful in rewarding virtue, constant in visiting crime,\nwould be more suitable to clothe ethics with respectability, to throw a\nsacred mantle over moral goodness, to lend stability to public virtue,\nthan any authority that can be derived from contested systems, the\nconduct of whose professors frequently disgrace the doctrines they lay\ndown, which after all seldom do more than restrain those whose mildness\nof temperament effectually prevents them from running into excess; those\nwho, already given to justice, require no coercion. On the other hand,\nwe have endeavoured to prove that nothing can be more absurd, nothing\nactually more dangerous, than attributing human qualities to the\nDivinity which cannot but choose to find themselves in a perpetual\ncontradiction.\n\nPlato has said \"that virtue consists in resembling God.\" But how is man\nto resemble a being, who, it is acknowledged, is incomprehensible to\nmankind--who cannot be conceived by any of those means, by which he is\nalone capable of having perceptions? If this being, who is shewn to man\nunder such various aspects, who is said to owe nothing to his creatures,\nis the author of all the good, as well as all the evil that takes\nplace, how can he be the model for the conduct of the human race\nliving together in society? At most he can only follow one side of the\ncharacter, because among his fellows, he alone is reputed virtuous who\ndoes not deviate in his conduct from justice; who abstains from evil;\nwho performs with punctuality those duties he owes to his fellows. If it\nbe taken up, and insisted he is not the author of the evil, only of\nthe good, I say very well: that is precisely what I wanted to know;\nyou thereby acknowledge he is not the author of every thing; we are no\nlonger at issue; you are inconclusive to your own premises, consequently\nought not to demand an implicit reliance on what you choose to assert.\n\nBut, replies the subtle theologian, that is not the affair; you must\nseek it in the creed I have set forth--in the religion of which I am a\npillar. Very good: Is it then actually in the system of fanatics, that\nman should draw up his ideas of virtue? Is it in the doctrines which\nthese codes hold forth, that he is to seek for a model? Alas! do they\nnot pourtray their idols: under the most unwholesome colours; do they\nnot represent them as following their caprice in every thing, who love\nor hate, who choose or reject, who approve or condemn according to their\nwhim, who delight in carnage, who send discord amongst men, who act\nirrationally, who commit wantonness, who sport with their feeble\nsubjects, who lay continual snares for them, who rigorously interdict\nthe use of their reason? What, let us seriously ask, would become of\nmorality, if men proposed to themselves such portraits for models!\n\nIt was, however, for the most part, systems of this temper that nations\nadopted. At was in consequence of these principles that what has been\ncalled religion in most countries, was far removed from being\nfavourable to morality; on the contrary, it often shook it to its\nfoundation--frequently left no vestige of its existence. It divided\nman, instead of drawing closer the bonds of union; in the place of\nthat mutual love, that reciprocity of succour, which ought ever to\ndistinguish human society, it introduced hatred and persecution; it made\nthem seize every opportunity to cut each other's throat for speculative\nopinions, equally irrational; it engendered the most violent\nheart-burnings--the most rancorous animosities--the most sovereign\ncontempt. The slightest difference in their received opinions rendered\nthem the most mortal enemies; separated their interests for ever; made\nthem despise each other; and seek every means to render their existence\nmiserable. For these theological conjectures, nations become opposed to\nnations; the sovereign frequently armed himself against his subjects;\nsubjects waged war with their sovereign; citizens gave activity to the\nmost sanguinary hostility against each other; parents detested their\noffspring; children plunged the pointed steel, the barbed arrow,\ninto the bosoms of those who gave them existence; husbands and wives\ndisunited, became the scourges of each other; relations forgetting the\nties of consanguinity, tore each other to pieces, or else reciprocally\nconsigned them to oblivion; all the bonds of society were rent asunder;\nthe social compact was broken up; society committed suicide: whilst in\nthe midst of this fearful wreck--regardless of the horrid shrieks called\nforth by this dreadful confusion--unmindful of the havock going forward\non all sides--each pretended that he conformed to the views of his\nidol, detailed to him by his priest--fulminated by the oracles. Far\nfrom making himself any reproach, for the misery he spread abroad, each\nlauded his own individual conduct; gloried in the crimes he committed in\nsupport of his sacred cause.\n\nThe same spirit of maniacal fury pervaded the rites, the ceremonies,\nthe customs, which the worship, adopted by superstition, placed so much\nabove all the social virtues. In one country, tender mothers delivered\nup their children to moisten with their innocent blood the altars of\ntheir idols; in another, the people assembled, performed the ceremony\nof consolation to their deities, for the outrages they committed against\nthem, and finished by immolating to their anger human victims; in\nanother, a frantic enthusiast lacerated his body, condemned himself for\nlife to the most rigorous tortures, to appease the wrath of his gods.\nThe Jupiter of the Pagans was a lascivious monster; the Moloch of the\nPhenicians was a cannibal; the savage idol of the Mexican requires\nthousands of mortals to bleed on his shrine, in order to satisfy his\nsanguinary appetite.\n\nSuch are the models superstition holds out to the imitation of man; is\nit then surprising that the name of these despots became the signal for\nmad-brained enthusiasm to exercise its outrageous fury; the standard\nunder which cowardice wreaked its cruelty; the watchword for the\ninhumanity of nations to muster their barbarous strength; a sound which\nspreads terror wherever its echo could reach; a continual pretext for\nthe most barefaced breaches of public decorum; for the most shameless\nviolation of the moral duties? It was the frightful character men gave\nof their gods, that banished kindness from their hearts--virtue from\ntheir conduct--felicity from their habitations--reason from their mind:\nalmost every where it was some idol, who was disturbed by the mode in\nwhich unhappy mortals thought; this armed them with poignards against\neach other; made them stifle the cries of nature; rendered them\nbarbarous to themselves; atrocious to their fellow creatures: in short,\nthey became irrational, breathed forth vengeance, outraged humanity,\nevery time that, instigated by the priest, they were inclined to imitate\nthe gods of their idolatry, to display their zeal, to render themselves\nacceptable in their temples.\n\nIt is not, then, in such systems, man ought to seek either for models of\nvirtue, or rules of conduct suitable to live in society. He needs human\nmorality, founded upon his own nature; built upon invariable experience;\nsubmitted to reason. The ethics of superstition will always he\nprejudicial to the earth; cruel masters cannot be well served, but by\nthose who resemble them: what then becomes of the great advantages which\nhave been imagined resulted to man, from the notions which have\nbeen unceasingly infused into him of his gods? We see that almost\nall nations acknowledge them; yet, to conform themselves\nto their views, they trampled under foot the clearest rights of\nnature--the most evident duties of humanity; they appeared to act as\nif it was only by madness the most incurable--by folly the most\npreposterous--by the most flagitious crimes, committed with an unsparing\nhand, that they hoped to draw down upon themselves the favor of\nheaven--the blessings of the sovereign intelligence they so much boast\nof serving with unabated zeal; with the most devotional fervor; with the\nmost unlimited obedience. As soon, therefore, as the priests give them\nto understand their deities command the commission of crime, or whenever\nthere is a question of their respective creeds, although they are wrapt\nin the most impenetrable obscurity, they make it a duty with themselves\nto unbridle their rancour--to give loose to the most furious passions;\nthey mistake the clearest precepts of morality; they credulously\nbelieve the remission of their own sins will be the reward of their\ntransgressions against their neighbour. Would it not be better to be\nan inhabitant of Soldania in Africa, where never yet form of worship\nentered, or the name of God resounded, than thus to pollute the land\nwith superstitious castigation--with the enmity of priests against each\nother?\n\nIndeed, it is not generally in those revered mortals, spread over the\nearth to announce the oracles of the gods, that will be found the most\nsterling virtues. These men, who think themselves so enlightened, who\ncall themselves the ministers of heaven, frequently preach nothing but\nhatred, discord, and fury in its name: the fear of the gods, far from\nhaving a salutary influence over their own morals, far from submitting\nthem to a wholesome discipline, frequently do nothing more than increase\ntheir avarice, augment their ambition, inflate their pride, extend their\ncovetousness, render them obstinately stubborn, and harden their hearts.\nWe may see them unceasingly occupied in giving birth to the most lasting\nanimosities, by their unintelligible disputes. We see them hostilely\nwrestling with the sovereign power, which they contend is subordinate to\ntheir own. We see them arm the chiefs of nations against the legitimate\nmagistrates; distribute to the credulous multitude the most mortal\nweapons, to massacre each other in the prosecution of those futile\ncontroversies, which sacerdotal vanity clothes with the most interesting\nimportance. Do these men, who advance the beauty of their theories, who\nmenace the people with eternal vengeance, avail themselves of their own\nmarvellous notions to moderate their pride--to abate their vanity--to\nlessen their cupidity--to restrain their turbulence--to bring their\nvindictive humours under control? Are they, even in those countries\nwhere their empire is established upon pillars of brass, fixed on\nadamantine rocks, decorated with the most curious efforts of human\ningenuity--where the sacred mantle of public opinion shields them with\nimpunity--where credulity, planted in the hot-bed of ignorance, strikes\nthe roots of their authority into the very centre of the earth; are\nthey, I would ask, the enemies to debauchery, the foes to intemperance,\nthe haters of those excesses which they insist a severe God interdicts\nto his adorers? On the contrary, are they not seen to be emboldened in\ncrime; intrepid in iniquity; committing the most shameful atrocities;\ngiving free scope to their irregularities; indulging their hatred;\nglutting their vengeance; exercising the most savage cruelties on the\nmiserable victims to their cowardly suspicion? In short, it may be\nsafely advanced, without fear of contradiction, that scarcely any\nthing is more frequent, than that those men who announce these terrible\ncreeds--who make men tremble under their yoke--who are unceasingly\nharanguing upon the eternity and dreadful nature of their\npunishments--who declare themselves the chosen ministers of their\noracular laws--who make all the duties of morality centre in themselves;\nare those whom superstition least contributes to render virtuous; are\nmen who possess the least milk of human kindness; the fewest feelings\nof tenderness; who are the most intolerant to their neighbours; the most\nindulgent to themselves; the most unsociable in their habits; the most\nlicentious in their manners; the most unforgiving in their disposition.\nIn contemplating their conduct, we should be tempted to accredit, that\nthey were perfectly undeceived with respect to the idols whom they\nserve; that no one was less the dupe to those menaces which they so\nsolemnly pronounce in their name, than themselves. In the hands of the\npriests of almost all countries, their divinities resembled the head of\nMedusa, which, without injuring him who shewed it, petrified all others.\nThe priests are generally the most crafty of men, and many among them\nare substantively wicked.\n\nDoes the idea of these avenging, these remunerating systems, impose upon\nsome princes of the earth, who found their titles, who rest their power\nupon them; who avail themselves of their terrific power to intimidate\ntheir subjects; to make the people, often rendered unhappy by their\ncaprice, hold them in reverence? Alas! the theological, the supernatural\nideas, adopted by the pride of some sovereigns, have done nothing more\nthan corrupt politics--than metamorphose, them into an abject tyranny.\nThe ministers of these idols, always tyrants themselves, or the\ncherishers of despots, are unceasingly crying out to monarchs that\nthey are the images of the Divinity. Do they not inform the credulous\nmultitude that heaven is willing they should groan under the most cruel\nbondage; writhe under the most multifarious injustice; that to suffer\nis their inheritance; that their princes have the indubitable right\nto appropriate the goods, dispose of the persons, coerce the liberty;\ncommand the lives of their subjects? Do not some of these chiefs of\nnations, thus poisoned in the name of deified idols, imagine that every\nindulgence of their wayward humour is freely permitted to them? At once\ncompetitors, representatives, and rivals of the celestial powers, do\nthey not, in some instances, exercise after their example the most\narbitrary despotism? Do they not, in the intoxication into which\nsacerdotal flattery has plunged them, think that like their idols, they\nare not accountable to man for their actions, that they owe nothing\nto the rest of mortals, that they are bound by no bonds but their own\nunruly will, to their miserable subjects?\n\nThen it is evident that it is to theological notions, to the loose\nflattery of its ministers, that are to be ascribed the despotism,\nthe tyrannical injustice, the corruption, the licentiousness of some\nprinces, and the blindness of those people, to whom in heaven's name\nthey interdict the love of liberty; who are forbid to labour effectually\nto their own happiness; to oppose themselves to violence, however\nflagrant; to exercise their natural rights, however conducive to their\nwelfare. These intoxicated rulers, even while adoring their avenging\ngods, in the act of bending others to their worship, do not scruple to\noutrage them by their irregularities--by their want of moral virtue.\nWhat morality is this, but that of men who offer themselves as living\nimages, as animated representatives of the Divinity? Are those monarchs,\nthen, who are habitually unjust, who wrest without remorse the bread\nfrom the hands of a famished people, to administer to the profligacy of\ntheir insatiable courtiers--to pamper the luxury of the vile instruments\nof their enormities, atheists? Are, then, those ambitious conquerors,\nwho not contented with oppressing their own slaves, carry desolation,\nspread misery, deal out death among the subjects of others, atheists?\nDo we not witness in some of those potentates who rule over nations by\n_divine right_, (a patent of power, which every usurper claims as his\nown) ambitious mortals, whose exterminating fury nothing can arrest;\nwith hearts perfectly insensible to the sorrows of mankind; with minds\nwithout energy; with souls without virtue; who neglect their most\nevident duties, with which they do not even deign to become acquainted;\npowerful men, who insolently set themselves above the rules of equity;\nknaves who make a sport of honesty? Generally speaking, is there\nthe least sincerity in the alliances which these rulers form among\nthemselves? Do they ever last longer than for the season of their\nconvenience? Do we find substantive virtues adorn those who most\nabjectly submit themselves to all the follies of superstition? Do they\nnot tax each other as violators of property--as faithlessly aggrandizing\nthemselves at the expence of their neighbour; in fact, do we not see\nthem endeavouring to surprise, anxious to over-reach, ready to injure\neach other, without being arrested by the menaces of their creeds, or at\nall yielding to the calls of humanity? In general, they are too haughty\nto be humane; too inflated with ambition to be virtuous; they make a\ncode for themselves, which they cannot help violating. Charles the Fifth\nused to say, \"that being a warrior, it was impossible for him to have\neither conscience or religion.\" His general, the Marquis de Piscaire,\nobserved, that \"nothing was more difficult, than to serve at one and the\nsame time, the god _Mars_ and _Jesus Christ_.\" Indeed, nothing can be\nmore opposed to the true spirit of Christianity than the profession\nof arms; notwithstanding the Christian princes have the most numerous\narmies, and are in perpetual hostility with each other: perhaps the\nclergy themselves do not hold forth the most peaceable examples of the\ndoctrine they teach; they sometimes wrangle for tithes, dispute\nfor trifling enjoyments, quarrel for worldly opinion, with as much\ndetermined obstinacy, with as, much settled rancour, with as little\ncharity, as could possibly inhabit the bosom of the most unenlightened\nPagan, whose ignorance they despise--whose superstition they rank as the\ngrossest effort of idolatrous debasement. It might almost admit of\ndoubt whether they would be quite pleased to see the mild maxims of the\nEvangelists, the true Christian meekness, rigidly followed--whether they\nmight not think the complete working of their own system would clash\nwith their own immediate interests? Is it a demonstrable axiom that\nthe ministers of the Christian faith do not think soldiers are beings\nextremely well calculated to give efficacy to their doctrine--solidity\nto their advantages--durability to their claims? Be this as it may,\npriests as well as monarchs have occasionally waged war for the most\nfutile interests; impoverished a people from the anti-christian motives;\nwrested from each other with all the venom of furies, the bloody remnant\nof the nations they have laid waste; in fact, to judge by their conduct\non certain occasions, it might have been a question if they were not\ndisputing who should have the credit of making the greater number of\nmiserable beings upon earth. At length, either wearied with their own\nfury, exhausted by their own devouring passions, or compelled by the\nstern hand of necessity, they have permitted suffering humanity to take\nbreath; they have allowed the miseries concomitant on war, to cease for\nan instant their devastating havoc; they have made peace in the name of\nthat God, whose decrees, as attested by themselves, they have been so\nwantonly outraging,--still ready, however, to violate their most solemn\npledges, when the smallest interest could offer them a pretext.\n\nThus it will be obvious, in what manner the idea of the Divinity\noperates on the priest, as well as upon those who are called his images;\nwho insist they have no account to render but to him alone. Among these\nrepresentatives of the Divine Majesty, it is with difficulty during\nthousands of years we find some few who have equity, sensibility,\nvirtue, or even the most ordinary talent. History points out some\nof these vicegerents of the Deity, who in the exacerbation of their\ndelirious rage, have insisted upon displacing him, by exalting\nthemselves into gods; and exacting the most obsequious worship; who have\ninflicted the most cruel torments on those who have opposed themselves\nto their madness, and refused to acknowledge the Divinity of their\npersons. These men, whose licentiousness knew no limits, from the\nimpunity which attended their actions, notwithstanding they had learned\nto despise public opinion, to set decency at defiance, to indulge in the\nmost shameless vice: in spite of the power they possessed; of the homage\nthey received; of the terror they inspired: although they had learned\nto counterfeit, with great effect, the whole catalogue of human virtues;\nfound it impossible, even with the addition of their enormous wealth,\nwrenched from the necessities of laborious honesty, to counterfeit the\nanimating blush, which modest merit brings forth, when eulogized by some\nhappy being whose felicity he has occasioned, by following the great\nlaw of nature--which says, \"_love thy neighbour as thyself_.\" On the\ncontrary, we see them grow listless with satiety; disgusted with their\nown inordinate indulgences; obliged to recur to strange pleasures, to\nawaken their benumbed faculties; to run headlong into the most costly\nfollies, in the fruitless attempt to keep up the activity of their\nsouls, the spring of which they had for ever relaxed, by the profligacy\nof their enjoyment.\n\nHistory, although it describes a multitude of vicious rulers, whose\nirregular propensities were of the most mischievous consequence to the\nhuman race, nevertheless, shews us but few who have been atheists. The\nannals of nations, on the contrary, offer to our view great numbers of\nsuperstitious princes, governed by their mistresses, led by unworthy\nfavorites, leagued with priests, who passed their lives plunged in\nluxury; indulging the most effeminate pursuits; following the most\nchildish pleasures; pleased with ostentatious show; slaves even to the\nfashion of the vestments that covered them; but strangers to every manly\nvirtue; insensible to the sorrows of their subjects; although uniformly\ngood to their hungry courtiers, invariably kind to those cringing\nsycophants who surrounded their persons, and poisoned their ears with\nthe most fulsome flattery: in short, superstitious persecutors, who,\nto render themselves acceptable to their priests, to expiate their\nown shameful irregularities, added to all their other vices that of\ntyrannizing over the mind, of fettering the conscience, of destroying\ntheir subjects for their opinions, when they were in hostility with\ntheir own received doctrines. Indeed, superstition in princes frequently\nallied itself with the most horrid crimes; they have almost all\nprofessed religion, although very few of them have had a just knowledge\nof morality--have practiced any useful substantive virtue. Superstitious\nnotions, on the contrary, often serve to render them more blind, to\naugment their evil inclinations; to set them at a greater distance from\nmoral goodness. They for the most part believe themselves assured of the\nfavor of heaven; they think they faithfully serve their gods, that the\nanger of their divinities is appeased, if for a short season they\nshew themselves attached to futile customs--lend themselves to absurd\nrites--perform some ridiculous duties, which superstition imposes on\nthem, with a view to obtain their assistance in the prosecution of its\nown plans, very rarely in strict unison with their immediate interest.\nNero, the cruel, sanguinary, matricidal Nero, his hands yet reeking with\nthe blood of that unfortunate being who had borne him in her womb, who\nhad, with agonizing pains, given the monster to the world that\nplunged the dagger in her heart, was desirous to be initiated into the\n_Eleusinian Mysteries_. The odious Constantine himself, found in the\npriests, accomplices disposed to expiate his crimes. The infamous\nPhilip, whose ungovernable ambition caused him to be called the daemon\nof the south, whilst he assassinated his wife and son, caused the\nthroats of the wretched Batavians to be cut for their religious\nopinions. It is thus, that the priests of superstition sometimes\npersuade sovereigns they can atone for crimes, by committing others of a\nmore atrocious kind--of an increased magnitude.\n\nIt would be fair to conclude, from the conduct of so many princes, who\nhad so much superstition, but so slender a portion of virtue, that the\nnotion of their gods, far from being useful to them, only served to\nrender them wore corrupt--to make them more abominable than they already\nwere; that the idea of an avenging power, placed in the perspective\nof futurity, imposed but little restraint on the turbulence of deified\ntyrants, who were sufficiently powerful not to fear the reproaches of\ntheir subjects--who had the insensibility to be deaf to the censure of\ntheir fellows--who were gifted with an obduracy of soul, that prevented\ntheir having compassion for the miseries of mankind, from whom they\nfancied themselves so pre-eminently distinguished; which, in fact, they\nwere, if crime can be allowed for the standard of distinction. Neither\nheaven nor earth furnishes a balsam of sufficient efficacy to heal the\ninveterate wounds of beings cankered to this degree: for such chronic\ndiseases, there is \"no balm in Gilead:\" there is no curb sufficiently\ncoercive to rein in the passions, to which superstition itself\ngives activity; which only makes them more unruly; renders them more\ninveterately rash. Whenever men flatter themselves with easily expiating\ntheir sins--when they soothe themselves with the consolitary idea of\nappeasing the anger of the gods by a show of earnestness, they then\ndeliver themselves up, with the most unrestrained freedom, to the bent\nof their criminal pursuits. The most dissolute men are frequently in\nappearance extremely attached to superstition: it furnishes them with a\nmeans of compensating by ceremonies, that of which they are deficient\nin morals: it is much easier for them to adopt a faith, to believe in\na doctrine, to conform themselves to certain rituals, than to renounce\ntheir habits, resist their passions, or relinquish the pursuit of that\npleasure, which results to unprincipled minds from the prosecution of\nthe most diabolical schemes.\n\nUnder chiefs, depraved even by superstition, nations continued\nnecessarily to be corrupted. The great conformed themselves to the\nvices of their masters; the example of these distinguished men, whom the\nuninformed erroneously believe to be happy, was followed by the people;\ncourts thus became the sinks from whence issued the epidemic contagion\nof licentious indulgence. The law only held forth pictures of honesty;\nthe dispensers of jurisprudence were partial, partook of the mania of\nthe times, were labouring under the general disease; Justice suffered\nher balance to rust, occasionally removed her bandage, although she\nalways wore it in the presence of the poor; genuine ideas of equity\nhad grown into disuse; distinct notions of right and wrong became\ntroublesome and unfashionable; education was neglected; it served only\nto produce prejudiced beings, grounded in ignorance--devotees, always\nready to injure themselves--fanatics, eager to shew their zeal ever\nwilling to annoy their unfortunate neighbours. Superstition, sustained\nby tyranny, ousted every other feeling, hoodwinked its destined victims,\nrendered those tractable whom it had the intention to despoil. Whoever\ndoubts of these truisms, has only to turn over the pages of history,\nhe will find myriads of evidence to much more than is here stated.\nMachiavel, in his _Political Discourses upon Titus Livius_, labours the\npoint hard, to shew the utility of superstition to the Roman Republic:\nunfortunately, however, the examples he brings forward in its support,\nincontestibly prove that none but the senate profited by the infatuation\nof the people, who availed itself of their blindness more effectually to\nbend them to its yoke.\n\nThus it was that nations, destitute of equitable laws, deficient in the\nadministration of justice, submitted to irrational government, continued\nin slavery by the monarch, chained up in ignorance by the priest, for\nwant of enlightened institutions, deprived of reasonable education,\nbecame corrupt, superstitious, and flagitious. The nature of man, the\njust interests of society, the real advantage of the sovereign, the true\nhappiness of the people, once mistaken, were completely lost sight\nof; the morality of nature, founded upon the essence of man living\nin society, was equally unknown; lay buried under an enormous load\nof prejudice, that no common efforts were competent to remove. It was\nentirely forgotten that man has wants; that society was formed that he\nmight, with greater security, facilitate the means of satisfying\nthem; that government, to be legitimate, ought to have for object, the\nhappiness--for end, the means of maintaining the indivisibility of the\ncommunity; that consequently it ought to give activity to springs, full\nplay to motives suitable to have a favorable influence over sensible\nbeings. It was quite overlooked, that virtue faithfully rewarded,\nvice as regularly visited, had an elastic force, of which the public\nauthorities could efficaciously avail themselves, to determine their\ncitizens to blend their interests; to work out their own felicity, by\nlabouring to the happiness of the body of which they were members. The\nsocial virtues were unknown, the _amor patriae_ became a chimera. Men\nthus associated, thus blinded by their superstitious bias, credulously\nbelieved their own immediate interest consisted in injuring each other;\nthey were solely occupied with meriting the favor of those men, who\nfatally accreditted the doctrine of clerical flatterers, of silver-toned\ncourtiers, which taught that they wore distinctly interested in injuring\nthe whole.\n\nThis is the mode in which the human heart has become perverted; here\nis the genuine source of moral evil; the hot-bed of that epidemical\ndepravity, the cause of that hereditary corruption, the fountain of\nthat inveterate delinquency, which pervaded the earth; rendering the\nabundance of nature nothing better than a curse; blasting the fairest\nprospects of humanity; degrading man below the beast of the forest;\nsinking his intellectual faculties in the most savage barbarity;\nrendering him the vile instrument of lawless ambition; the wretched tool\nby which the fetters of his species were firmly rivetted; obliging him\nto moisten his harvest with the bitter tears of the most abject slavery.\nFor the purpose of remedying so many crying evils, grown insupportable,\nrecourse was had to new superstitions. Notwithstanding this alone had\nproduced them, it was still imagined, that the menaces of heaven would\nrestrain passions which every thing conspired to rouse in all hearts;\nfatuity persuaded monarchs that ideal, metaphysical barriers, terrible\nfables, distant phantoms, would be competent to curb those inordinate\ndesires, to rein in that impetuous propensity to crime, that rendered\nsociety incommodious to itself; credulity fancied that invisible powers\nwould be more efficacious, than those visible motives that evidently\ninvited mortals to the commission of mischief. Every thing was\nunderstood to be achieved, by occupying man's mind with gloomy chimeras,\nwith vague, undefinable terrors, with avenging angels; and politics\nmadly believed that its own interests grew out of the blind submission\nof its subjects, to the ministers of these delusive doctrines.\n\nWhat was the result? Nations had only sacerdotal laws; theological\nmorality; accommodated to the interests of the hierarchy--suitable to\nthe views of subtle priests: who substituted reveries for realities,\nopinions for reason, rank fallacies for sterling truths; who made\nceremonies supply the place of virtue; a pious blindness supersede the\nnecessity of an enlightened understanding; undermined the sacredness\nof oaths, and placed fanaticism on the altars of sociability. By a\nnecessary consequence of that confidence which the people were compelled\nto give to the ministers of superstition, two distinct authorities\nwere established in each state, who were substantially at variance, in\ncontinual hostility with each other. The priest fought the sovereign\nwith the formidable weapon of opinion; it generally proved sufficiently\npowerful to shake the most established thrones. Thus, although the\nhierarchy was unceasingly admonishing the people to submit themselves\nto the divine authority of their sovereigns, because it was derived\nimmediately from heaven, yet, whenever it so happened that the monarch\ndid not repay their advocacy, by blindly yielding his own authority to\nthe supervisance of the priests, these made no scruple of threatening\nhim with loss of his temporalities; fulminated their anathemas,\ninterdicted his dominions, and sometimes went the length of absolving\nhis subjects from allegiance. Superstition, in general, only upholds\ndespotism, that it may with greater certainty direct its blows against\nits enemies; it overthrows it whenever it is found to clash with its\ninterests. The ministers of invisible powers preach up obedience to\nvisible powers, only when they find these humbly devoted to themselves.\nThus the sovereign was never at rest, but when abjectly cringing to his\npriest, he tractably received his lessons--lent himself to his frantic\nzeal--and piously enabled him to carry on the furious occupation of\nproselytism. These priests, always restless, full of ambition, burning\nwith intolerance, frequently excited the sovereign to ravage his own\nstates--encouraged him to tyranny: when, pursuing this sacerdotal mania,\nhe feared to have outraged humanity, to have incurred the displeasure\nof heaven, he was quickly reconciled to himself, upon promise of\nundertaking some distant expedition, for the purpose of bringing some\nunfortunate nation within the pale of their own particular creed. When\nthe two rival powers united themselves, morality gained nothing by the\njunction; the people were neither more happy, nor more virtuous; their\nmorals, their welfare, their liberty, were equally overwhelmed by the\ncombined powers. Thus, superstitious princes always felt interested in\nthe maintenance of theological opinions, which were rendered flattering\nto their vanity, favorable to their power. Like the grateful perfumes\nof Arabia, that are used to cover the ill scent of a deadly poison, the\npriest lulled them into security by administering to their sensualities;\nthese, in return, made common cause with him: fully persuaded that the\nsuperstition which they themselves adopted, must be the most wholesome\nfor their subjects, most conducive to their interests, those who refused\nto receive the boon, thus gratuitously forced upon them, were treated\nas enemies, held up to public scorn, and rendered the victims of\npunishment. The most superstitious sovereign became, either politically\nor through piety, the executioner of one part of his slaves; he was\ntaught to believe it a sacred duty to tyrannize over the mind--to\noverwhelm the refractory--to crush the enemy of his priest, under an\nidea that he was therefore hostile to his own authority. In cutting the\nthroats of these unfortunate sceptics, he imagined he at once discharged\nhis obligations to heaven, and gave security to his own power. He did,\nnot perceive, that by immolating victims to his priest, he in fact\nstrengthened the arm of his most formidable foe--the real enemy to\nhis authority--the rival of his greatness--the least subjected of his\nsubjects.\n\nBut the prevalence of these false notions, with which both the minds of\nthe sovereign and the people were prepossessed, it was found that every\nthing in society concurred to gratify the avidity, to bolster the pride,\nto glut the vengeance of the sacerdotal order: every where, it was to be\nobserved, that the most turbulent, the most dangerous, the most useless\nmen, were those who were the most amply rewarded. The strange spectacle\npresented itself, of beholding those who were born the bitterest enemies\nto sovereign power, cherished by its fostering care--honoured at its\nhands: the most rebellious subjects were looked upon as the pillars of\nthe throne; the corrupters of the people were rendered the exclusive\nmasters of education; the least laborious of the citizens were richly\nrewarded for their idleness--munificently remunerated for the most\nfutile speculations--held in respect for their fatal discord--gorged\nwith benefits for their inefficacious prayers: they swept off the fat of\nthe land for their expiations, so destructive to morals, so calculated\nto give permanency to crime. Thus, by a strange fatuity, the viper that\ncould, and frequently did, inflict the most deadly sting on the bosom of\nconfiding credulity, was pampered and nourished by the unsuspecting hand\nof its destined victim.\n\nFor thousands of years, nations as well as sovereigns were emulously\ndespoiling themselves to enrich the expounders of superstition; to\nenable them to wallow in abundance: they loaded them with honors,\ndecorated them with titles, invested them with privileges, granted them\nimmunities, for no other purpose than to make them bad citizens, unruly\nsubjects, mischievous beings, who revenged upon society the advantages\nthey had received. What was the fruit that kings and people gathered\nfrom their imprudent kindness? What was the harvest these men yielded\nto their labour? Did princes really become more powerful; were nations\nrendered more happy; did they grow more flourishing; did men become more\nrational? No! Unquestionably, the sovereign lost the greater portion\nof his authority; he was the slave of his priest; and when he wished to\npreserve the remnant that was left, or to recover some part of what\nhad been wrested from him, he was obliged to be continually wrestling\nagainst the men his own indulgence, his own weakness, had furnished\nwith means, to set his authority at defiance: the riches of society were\nlavished to support the idleness, maintain the splendour, satiate the\nluxury of the most useless, the most arrogant, the most dangerous of its\nmembers.\n\nDid the morals of the people improve under the pastoral care of these\nguides, who were so liberally rewarded? Alas! the superstitious never\nknew them, their fanatic creed had usurped the place of every virtue;\nits ministers, satisfied with upholding the doctrines, with preserving\nthe ceremonies so useful to their own interests, only invented\nfictitious crimes--multiplied painful penances--instituted absurd\ncustoms; to the end, that they might turn even the transgressions of\ntheir slaves to their own immediate profit. Every where they exercised\na monopoly of expiatory indulgences; they made a lucrative traffic of\npretended pardons from above; they established a tariff, according to\nwhich crime was no longer contraband, but freely admitted upon paying\nthe customs. Those subjected to the heaviest impost, were always such as\nthe hierarchy judged most inimical to its own stability; you might at a\nvery easy rate obtain permission to attack the dignity of the sovereign,\nto undermine the temporal power, but it was enormously dear to be\nallowed to touch even the hem of the sacerdotal garments. Thus heresy,\nsacrilege, &c. were considered crimes of a much deeper dye, that fixed\nan indelible stain on the perpetrator, alarmed the mind of the priestly\norder, much more seriously than the most inveterate villainy, the\nmost determined delinquency, which more immediately involved the true\ninterests of society. Thence the ideas of the people were completely\noverturned, imaginary crimes terrified them, while real crimes had\nno effect upon their obdurate hearts. A man, whose opinions were at\nvariance with the received doctrines, whose abstract systems did not\nharmonize with those of his priest, was more loathed than a corrupter of\nyouth; more abhorred than an assassin; more hated than an oppressor; was\nheld in greater contempt than a robber; was punished with greater\nrigor than the seducer of innocence. The acme of all wickedness, was\nto despise that which the priest was desirous should be looked upon as\nsacred. The celebrated Gordon says, \"the most abominable of heresies,\nis to believe there is any other god than the clergy.\" The civil laws\nconcurred to aid this confusion of ideas; they inflicted the most\nserious penalties, punished in the most atrocious manner those unknown\ncrimes which imagination had magnified into the most flagitious actions;\nheretics, infidels, were brought to the stake, and publicly burnt with\nthe utmost refinement of cruelty; the brain was tortured to find means\nof augmenting the sufferings of the unhappy victims to sacerdotal fury;\nwhilst calumniators of innocence, adulterers, depredators of every\ndescription, knaves of all kinds, were at a trifling cost absolved from\ntheir past iniquity, and opened a new account of future delinquency.\n\nUnder such instructors what could become of youth? The period of\njuvenility was shamefully sacrificed to superstition. Man, from his\nearliest infancy, was poisoned with unintelligible notions; fed with\nmysteries; crammed with fables; drenched with doctrines, in which he was\ncompelled to acquiesce without being able to comprehend. His brain was\ndisturbed with phantoms, alarmed with chimeras, rendered frantic by\nvisions. His genius was cramped with puerile pursuits, mechanical\ndevotions, sacred trifles. Superstition at length so fascinated\nthe human mind, made such mere automata of mankind, that the people\nconsented to address their gods in a dialect they did not themselves\nunderstand: women occupied their whole lives in singing Latin,\nwithout comprehending a word of the language; the people assisted very\npunctually, without being competent to explain any part of the\nworship, under an idea that it was taken kindly they should thus weary\nthemselves; that it was sufficient to shew their persons in the sacred\ntemples, which were beautifully decorated to fascinate their senses.\nThus man wasted his most precious moments in absurd customs; spent his\nlife in idle ceremonies; his bead was crowded with sophisms, his mind\nwas loaded with errors; intoxicated with fanaticism, he was the declared\nenemy to reason; for ever prepossessed against truth, the energy of\nhis soul was resisted by shackles too ponderous for its elasticity;\nthe spring gave way, and he sunk into sloth and wretchedness: from this\nhumiliating state he could never again soar; he could no longer become\nuseful either to himself or to his associates: the importance he\nattached to his imaginary science, or rather the systematic ignorance\nwhich served for its basis, rendered it impossible for the most fertile\nsoil to produce any thing but thorns; for the best proportioned tree to\nyield any thing but crabs.\n\nDoes a superstitious, sacerdotal education, form intrepid citizens,\nintelligent fathers of families, kind husbands, just masters, faithful\nservants, loyal subjects, pacific associates? No! it either makes\npeevish enthusiasts or morose devotees, who are incommodious to\nthemselves, vexatious to others: men without principle, who quickly\npour the waters of Lethe over the terrors with which they have been\ndisturbed; who know no moral obligation, who respect no virtue. Thus\nsuperstition, elevated above every thing else, held forth the fanatical\ndogma, \"Better to obey the gods than men;\" in consequence, man believed\nhe must revolt against his prince, detach himself from his wife, detest\nhis children, estrange himself from his friends, cut the throats of his\nfellow-citizens, every time they questioned the veracity of his faith:\nin short, a superstitious education, when it had its effect, only served\nto corrupt the juvenile heart--to fascinate youthful winds with its\npageantry--to degrade the human soul--to make man mistake the duties\nhe owed to himself, his obligations to society, his relations with the\nbeings by whom he was surrounded.\n\nWhat advantages might not nations have reaped, if they would have\nemployed on useful objects, those riches, which ignorance has so\nshamefully lavished on the expounders of superstition; which fatuity has\nbestowed on the most useless ceremonies? What might not have been the\nprogress of genius, if it had enjoyed those ample remunerations, granted\nduring so many ages to those priests who at all times opposed its\nelevation? What perfection might not science have attained, what height\nmight not the arts have reached, if they had had the same succours that\nwere held forth with a prodigal hand to enthusiasm and futility? Upon\nwhat rocks might not morality have been rested, what solid foundations\nmight not politics have found, with what majestic grandeur might not\ntruth have illumined the human horizon, if they had experienced the\nsame fostering cares, the same animating countenance, the same\npublic sanction, which accompanied imposture--which was showered\nupon fanaticism--which shielded falsehood from the rude attack of\ninvestigation--which gave impunity to its ministers?\n\nIt is then obvious, that superstitious, theological notions, have not\nproduced any of those solid advantages that have been held forth; if may\nbe doubted whether they were not always, and ever will remain, contrary\nto healthy politics, opposed to sound morality; they frequently change\nsovereigns into restless, jealous, mischievous, divinities; they\ntransform their subjects into envious, wicked slaves, who by idle\npageantry, by futile ceremonies, by an exterior acquiescence in\nunintelligible opinions, imagine themselves amply compensated for\nthe evil they commit against each other. Those who have never had\nthe confidence to examine these sublimated opinions; those who feel\npersuaded that their duties spring out of these abstruse doctrines;\nthose who are actually commanded to live in peace, to cherish each\nother, to lend mutual assistance, to abstain from evil, and to do good,\npresently lose sight of these sterile speculations, as soon as present\ninterests, ungovernable passions, inveterate habits, or irresistible\nwhims, hurry them away. Where are we to look for that equity, that union\nof interest, that peace, that concord, which these unsettled notions,\nsupported by superstition, backed with the full force of authority,\npromise to the societies placed under their surveillance? Under the\ninfluence of corrupt courts, of time-serving priests, who, either\nimpostors or fanatics, are never in harmony with each other, are only\nto be discerned vicious men, degraded by ignorance--enslaved by\ncriminal habits--swayed by transient interests--guided by shameful\npleasures--sunk in a vortex of dissipation; who do not even think of\nthe Divinity. In despite of his theological ideas, the subtle courtier\ncontinues to weave his dark plots, labours to gratify his ambition,\nseeks to satisfy his avidity, to indulge his hatred, to wreak his\nvengeance, to give full swing to all the passions inherent to the\nperversity of his being: maugre that frightful hell, of which the idea\nalone makes her tremble, the woman of intrigue persists in her amours;\ncontinues her harlotry, revels in her adulteries. Notwithstanding their\ndissipated conduct, their dissolute manners, their entire want of moral\nprinciple, the greater part of those who swarm in courts, who crowd in\ncities, would recoil with horror, if the smallest doubt was exhibited of\nthe truth of that creed which they outrage every moment, of their\nlives. What advantage, then, has resulted to the human race from those\nopinions, so universal, at the same time so barren? They seem rarely to\nhave had any other kind of influence than to serve as a pretext for the\nmost dangerous passions--as a mantle of security for the most criminal\nindulgences. Does not the superstitious despot, who would scruple to\nomit the least part of the ceremonies of his persuasion, on quitting\nthe altars at which he has been sacrificing, on leaving the temple where\nthey have been delivering the oracles and terrifying crime in the name\nof heaven, return to his vices, reiterate his injustice, increase his\npolitical crimes, augment his transgressions against society? Issuing\nfrom the sacred fane, their ears still ringing with the doctrines they\nhave heard, the minister returns to his vexations, the courtier to\nhis intrigues, the courtezan to her prostitution, the publican to his\nextortions, the merchant to his frauds, the trader to his tricks.\n\nWill it be pretended that those cowardly assassins, those dastardly\nrobbers, those miserable criminals, whom evil institutions, the\nnegligence of government, the laxity of morals, continually multiply;\nfrom whom the laws, in many instances too sanguinary, frequently wrest\ntheir existence; will it, I say, be pretended that the malefactors who\nregularly furnish the gibbets, who daily crowd the scaffolds, are either\nincredulous or atheists? No! Unquestionably, these unfortunate beings,\nthese wretched outcasts, these children of turpitude, firmly believe in\nGod; his name has been repeated to them from their infancy; they have\nbeen informed of the punishment destined for sinners: they have been\nhabituated in early life to tremble at his judgments; nevertheless they\nhave outraged society; their unruly passions, stronger than their fears,\nnot having been coerced by visible motives, have not, for much more\ncogent reasons, been restrained by those which are invisible: distant,\nconcealed punishments will never be competent to arrest those excesses\nwhich present and assured torments are incapable of preventing.\n\nIn short, does not every day's experience furnish us the lesson,\nthat men, persuaded that an all-seeing Deity views them, hears them,\nencompasses them, do not on that account arrest their progress when\nthe furor exists, either for gratifying their licentious passions, or\ncommitting the most dishonest actions? The same individual who would\nfear the inspection of the meanest of his fellows, whom the presence of\nanother man would prevent from committing a bad action, from delivering\nhimself up to some scandalous vice, freely sins, cheerfully lends\nhimself to crime, when he believes no eyes beholds him but those of his\nGod. What purpose, then, does the conviction of the omniscience, the\nubiquity, the omnipotence of the Divinity answer, if it imposes\nmuch less on the conduct of the human being, than the idea of being\noverlooked by the least of his fellow men? He who would not have the\ntemerity to commit a crime, even in the presence of a child, will make\nno scruple of boldly committing it, when he shall have only his God for\na witness. These facts, which are indubitable, ill serve for a reply to\nthose who insist that the fear of God is more suitable to restrain the\nactions of men, than wholesome laws, with strict discipline. When man\nbelieves he has only his God to dread, he commonly permits nothing to\ninterrupt his course.\n\nThose persons who do not in the least suspect the power of superstitious\nnotions, who have the most perfect reliance on their efficacy, very\nrarely, however, employ them, when they are desirous to influence the\nconduct of those who are subordinate to them; when they are disposed\nto re-conduct them to the paths of reason. In the advice which a father\ngives to his vicious, criminal son, he rather represents to him the\npresent temporal inconveniencies to which his conduct exposes him, than\nthe danger he encounters in offending an avenging God; he points out to\nhim the natural consequences of his irregularities, his health damaged\nby debaucheries; the loss of his reputation by criminal pursuits; the\nruin of his fortune by gambling; the punishments of society, &c. Thus\nthe DEICOLIST himself, on the most important occasions of life, reckons\nmore stedfastly upon the force of natural motives, than upon those\nsupernatural inducements furnished by superstition: the same man, who\nvilifies the motives that an atheist can have to do good and abstain\nfrom evil, makes use of them himself on this occasion, because he feels\nthey are the most substantive he can employ.\n\nAlmost all men believe in an avenging and remunerating God; yet nearly\nin all countries the number of the wicked bears a larger proportion\nthan that of the good. If the true cause of this general corruption be\ntraced, it will be more frequently found in the superstitious notions\ninculcated by theology, than in those imaginary sources which the\nvarious superstitions have invented to account for human depravity. Man\nis always corrupt wherever he is badly governed; wherever superstition\ndeifies the sovereign, his government becomes unworthy: this perverted\nand assured of impunity, necessarily render his people miserable;\nmisery, when it exceeds the point of endurance, as necessarily renders\nthem wicked. When the people are submitted to irrational masters, they\nare never guided by reason. If they are blinded by priests, who are\neither deceived or impostors, their reason become useless. Tyrants, when\ncombined with priests, have generally been successful in their efforts\nto prevent nations from becoming enlightened--from seeking after\ntruth--from ameliorating their condition--from perfectioning their\nmorals; and never has the union smiled upon liberty: the people, unable\nto resist the mighty torrent produced by the confluence of two such\nrivers, have usually sunk into the most abject slavery. It is only by\nenlightening the mass of mankind, by demonstrating truth, that we can\npromise to render him better; that we can indulge the hope of making him\nhappy. It is by causing both sovereigns and subjects to feel their true\nrelations with each other, that their actual interests will be improved;\nthat their politics will be perfectioned: it will then be felt and\naccredited, that the true art of governing mortals, the sure method of\ngaining their affections, is not the art of blinding them, of deceiving\nthem, or of tyrannizing over them. Let us, then, good humouredly consult\nreason, avail ourselves of experience, interrogate nature; we shall,\nperhaps, find what is requisite to be done, in order to labour\nefficaciously to the happiness of the human race. We shall most\nassuredly perceive, that error is the true source of the evils\nwhich embitter our existence; that it is in cheering the hearts, in\ndissipating those vain phantoms which alarm the ignorant, in laying the\naxe to the root of superstition, that we can peaceably seek after truth;\nthat it is only in the conflagration of this baneful tree, we can ever\nexpect to light the torch which shall illumine the road to felicity.\nThen let man study nature; observe her immutable laws; let him dive into\nhis own essence; let him cure himself of his prejudices: these means\nwill conduct him by a gentle declivity to that virtue, without which he\nmust feel he can never be permanently happy in the world he inhabits.\n\nIf man could once cease to fear, from that moment he would be truly\nhappy. Superstition is a domestic enemy which he always carries within\nhimself: those who will seriously occupy themselves with this formidable\nphantom, must be content to endure continual agonies, to live in\nperpetual inquietude: if they will neglect the objects most worthy\nof interesting them, to run after chimeras, they will commonly pass\na melancholy existence, in groaning, in praying, in sacrificing,\nin expiating faults, either real or imaginary, which they believe\ncalculated to offend their priests; frequently in their irrational fury\nthey will torment themselves, they will make it a duty to inflict on\ntheir own persons the most barbarous punishments: but society will reap\nno benefit from these mournful opinions--from the tortures of these\npious irrationals; because their mind, completely absorbed by their\ngloomy reveries, their time dissipated in the most absurd ceremonies,\nwill leave them no opportunity of being really advantageous to the\ncommunity of which they are members. The most superstitions men are\ncommonly misanthropists, quite useless to the world, and very injurious\nto themselves: if ever they display energy, it is only to devise means\nby which they can increase their own affliction; to discover new methods\nto torture their mind; to find out the most efficacious means to deprive\nthemselves of those objects which their nature renders desirable. It is\ncommon in the world to behold penitents, who are intimately persuaded\nthat by dint of barbarous inflictions on their own persons, by means\nof a lingering suicide, they shall merit the favor of heaven. Madmen of\nthis species are to be seen every where; superstition has in all ages,\nin all places, given birth to the most cruel extravagances, to the most\ninjurious follies.\n\nIf, indeed, these irrational devotees only injure themselves, and\ndeprive society of that assistance which they owe to it, they without\ndoubt do less mischief than those turbulent, zealous fanatics, who,\ninfuriated with their superstitious ideas, believe themselves bound to\ndisturb the world, to commit actual crimes, to sustain the cause of\nwhat they denominate the true faith. It not unfrequently happens that in\noutraging morality, the zealous enthusiast supposes he renders himself\nagreeable to his God. He makes perfection consist either in tormenting\nhimself, or in rending asunder, in favour of his fanatical ideas, the\nmost sacred ties that connect mortals with each other.\n\nLet us, then, acknowledge, that the notions of superstition, are not\nmore suitable to procure the welfare, to establish the content, to\nconfirm the peace of individuals, than they are of the society of which\nthey are members. If some peaceable, honest, inconclusive enthusiasts,\nfind either comfort or consolation in them, there are millions who, more\nconclusive to their principles, are unhappy during their whole life;\nwho are perpetually assailed by the most melancholy ideas; to whom their\ndisordered imagination shews these notions, as every instant involving\nthem in the most cruel punishments. Under such formidable systems, a\ntranquil, sociable devotee, is a man who has not reasoned upon them.\n\nIn short, every thing serves to prove, that superstitious opinions have\nthe strongest influence over men; that they torment them unceasingly,\ndivide them from their dearest connections, inflame their minds, envenom\ntheir passions, render them miserable without ever restraining their\nactions, except when their own temperament proves too feeble to propel\nthem forward: all this holds forth one great lesson, that _superstition\nis incompatible with liberty, and can never furnish good citizens_.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. IX.\n\n_Theological Notions cannot be the Basis of Morality.--Comparison\nbetween Theological Ethics and Natural Morality.--Theology prejudicial\nto the human Mind._\n\n\nFelicity is the great end of human existence; a supposition therefore,\nto be actually useful to man, should render him happy. By what parity\nof reasoning can he flatter himself that an hypothesis, which does not\nfacilitate his happiness in his present duration, may one day conduct\nhim to permanent bliss? If mortals only sigh, tremble, and groan in this\nworld, of which they have a knowledge, upon what foundation is it they\nexpect a more felicitous existence hereafter, in a world of which they\nknow nothing? If man is every where the child of calamity, the victim to\nnecessary evil, the unhappy sufferer under an immutable system, ought he\nreasonably to indulge a greater confidence in future happiness?\n\nOn the other hand, a supposition which should throw light on every\nthing, which should supply an easy solution to all the questions to\nwhich it could be applied, when even it should not be competent to\ndemonstrate the certitude, would probably be true: but that system which\nshould only obscure the clearest notions, render more insoluble the\nproblems desired to be resolved by its means, would most assuredly\nbe looked upon as fallacious; as either useless or dangerous. To be\nconvinced of this principle, let us examine, without prejudice, if the\ntheological ideas of the Divinity have ever given the solution to any\none difficulty. Has the human understanding progressed a single step\nby the assistance of this metaphysical science? Has it not, on the\ncontrary, had a tendency to obscure the wore certain science of morals?\nHas it not, in many instances, rendered the most essential duties of\nour nature problematical? Has it not in a great measure confounded the\nnotions of virtue and vice, of justice and injustice? Indeed, what\nis virtue, in the eyes of the generality of theologians? They will\ninstantly reply, \"that which is conformable to the will of the\nincomprehensible beings who govern nature.\" But way it not be asked,\nwithout offence to the individual opinions of any one, what are these\nbeings, of whom they are unceasingly talking, without having the\ncapacity to comprehend them? How can we acquire a knowledge of their\nwill? They will forthwith reply, with a confidence that is meant to\nstrike conviction on uninformed minds, by recounting what they are not,\nwithout even attempting to inform us what they are. If they do undertake\nto furnish an idea of them, they will heap upon their hypothetical\nbeings a multitude, of contradictory, incompatible attributes, with\nwhich they will form a whole, at once impossible for the human mind to\nconceive or else they will refer to oracles, by which they insist their\nintentions have been promulgated to mankind. If, however, they are\nrequested to prove the authenticity of these oracles, which are at such\nvariance with each other, they will refer to miracles in support of what\nthey assert: these miracles, independent of the difficulty there must\nexist to repose in them our faith, when, as we have seen, they are\nadmitted even by the theologians themselves, to be contrary to the\nintelligence, the immutability, to the omnipotency of their immaterial\nsubstances, are, moreover, warmly disputed by each particular sect,\nas being impositions, practised by the others for their own individual\nadvantage. As a last resource, then, it will be necessary to accredit\nthe integrity, to rely on the veracity, to rest on the good faith of\nthe priests, who announce these oracles. On this again, there arises two\nalmost insuperable difficulties, in the _first_ place, who shall assure\nus of their actual mission? are we quite certain none of them may be\nmistaken? how shall we be justified in giving credence to their powers?\nare they not these priests themselves, who announce to us that they are\nthe infallible interpreters of a being whom they acknowledge they do\nnot at all know? In the _second_ place, which set of these oracular\ndevelopements are we to adopt? For to give currency to the whole, would,\nin point of fact, annihilate them entirely; seeing, that no two of them\nrun in unison with each other. This granted, the priests, that is to\nsay, men extremely suspicious, but little in harmony with each other,\nwill be the arbiters of morality; they will decide (according to their\nown uncertain knowledge, after their various passions, in conformity to\nthe different perspectives under which they view these things,) on the\nwhole system of ethics; upon which absolutely rests the repose of\nthe world--the sterling happiness of each individual. Would this be\na desirable state? would it be that from which humanity has the best\nfounded prospect of that felicity, which is the desired object of his\nresearch? Again; do we not see that either enthusiasm or interest is the\nonly standard of their decisions? that their morals are as variable as\ntheir caprice? those who listen to them, very rarely discover to what\nline they will adhere. In their various writings, we have evidence of\nthe most bitter animosities; we find continual contradictions; endless\ndisputes upon what they themselves acknowledge to be the most essential\npoints; upon those premises, in the substantive proof of which their\nwhole system depends; the very beings they depict as their source of\ntheir various creeds, are pourtrayed as variable as themselves; as\nfrequently changing their plans as these are their arguments. What\nresults from all this to a rational man? It will be natural for him to\nconclude, that neither inconstant gods, nor vacillating priests, whose\nopinions are more fluctuating than the seasons, can be the proper\nmodels of a moral system, which should be as regular, as determinate,\nas invariable as the laws of nature herself; as that eternal march, from\nwhich we never see her derogate.\n\nNo! Arbitrary, inconclusive, contradictory notions, abstract,\nunintelligible speculations, can never be the sterling bases of the\nethical science! They must be evident, demonstrable principles, deduced\nfrom the nature of man, founded upon his wants, inspired by rational\neducation, rendered familiar by habit, made sacred by wholesome laws,\nthat will flash conviction on our mind, render systems useful to\nmankind, make virtue dear to us--that will people nations with honest\nmen--fill up the ranks with faithful subjects--crowd them with\nintrepid citizens. Incomprehensible beings can present nothing to our\nimagination, save vague ideas, which will never embrace any common point\nof union amongst those who shall contemplate them. If these beings are\npainted as terrible, the mind is led astray; if changeable, it always\nprecludes us from ascertaining the road we ought to pursue. The menaces\nheld forth by those, who, in despite of their own assertions, say they\nare acquainted with the views, with the determination of these beings,\nwill seldom do more than render virtue unpleasant; fear alone will\nthen make us practise with reluctance, that which reason, which our\nown immediate interest, ought to make us execute with pleasure. The\ninculcation of terrible ideas will only serve to disturb honest persons,\nwithout in the least arresting the progress of the profligate, or\ndiverting the course of the flagitious: the greater number of men,\nwhen they shall be disposed to sin, to deliver themselves up to vicious\npropensities, will cease to contemplate these terrific ideas, will only\nbehold a merciful God, who is filled with goodness, who will pardon the\ntransgressions of their weakness. Man never views things but on that\nside which is most conformable to his desires.\n\nThe goodness of God cheers the wicked; his rigour disturbs the honest\nman. Thus, the qualities with which theology clothes its immaterial\nsubstances, themselves turn out disadvantageous to sound morality. It\nis upon this infinite goodness that the most corrupt men will have the\naudacity to reckon, when they are either hurried along by crime, or\ngiven up to habitual vice. If, then, they are reminded of their criminal\ncourses, they reply, \"God is good, his mercy is infinite, his clemency\nboundless:\" thus it may be said that religion itself is pressed into the\nservice of vice, by the children of turpitude. Superstition, above all,\nrather abets crime than represses it, by holding forth to mortals that\nby the assistance of certain ceremonies, the performance of certain\nrites, the repetition of certain prayers, aided by the payment of\ncertain sums of money, they can appease the anger of their gods, assuage\nthe wrath of heaven, wash out the stains of their sins, and be received\nwith open arms into the happy number of the elect--be placed in\nthe blissful abodes of eternity. In short, do not the priests of\nsuperstition universally affirm, that they possess infallible secrets,\nfor reconciling the most perverse to the pale of their respective\nsystems?\n\nIt must be concluded from this, that however these systems are viewed,\nin whatever manner they are considered, they cannot serve for the basis\nof morality, which in its very nature is formed to be invariably the\nsame. Irascible systems are only useful to those who find an interest in\nterrifying the ignorance of mankind, that they may advantage themselves\nof his fears--profit by his expiations. The nobles of the earth, who are\nfrequently men not gifted with the most exemplary morals--who do not\non all occasions exhibit the most perfect specimens of self-denial--who\nwould not, perhaps, be at all times held up as mirrors of virtue, will\nnot see these formidable systems, when they shall be inclined to listen\nto their passions; to lend themselves to the indulgence of their unruly\ndesires: they will, however, feel no repugnance to make use of them\nto frighten others, to the end that they may preserve unimpaired their\nsuperiority; that they may keep entire their prerogatives; that they may\nmore effectually bind them to servitude. Like the rest of mankind, they\nwill see their God under the traits of his benevolence; they will always\nbelieve him indulgent to those outrages they may commit against their\nfellows, provided they shew due respect for him themselves: superstition\nwill furnish them with easy means to turn aside his Wrath; its ministers\nseldom omit a profitable opportunity, to expiate the crimes of human\nnature.\n\nMorality is not made to follow the caprices of the imagination, the fury\nof the passions, the fluctuating interests of men: it ought to possess\nstability; to be at all times the same, for all the individuals of the\nhuman race; it ought neither to vary in one country, nor in one race\nfrom another: neither superstition nor religion, has a privilege to make\nits immutability subservient to the changeable laws of their systems.\nThere is but one method to give ethics this solidity; it has been more\nthan once pointed out in the course of this work: it is only to be\nfounded upon the nature of man, bottomed upon his duties, rested upon\nthe relations subsisting between intelligent beings, who are in love,\nwith their happiness, who are occupied with their own preservation, who\nlive together in society that they may With greater facility ascertain\nthese ends. In short we must take for the basis of morality the\nnecessity of things.\n\nIn weighing these principles, which are self evident, confirmed by\nconstant experience, approved by reason, drawn from nature herself, we\nshall have an undeviating tone of conduct; a sure system of morality,\nthat will never be in contradiction with itself. Man will have no\noccasion to recur to theological speculations to regulate his conduct\nin the visible world. We shall then be capacitated to reply to those who\npretend that without them there can be no morality. If we reflect upon\nthe long tissue of errors, upon the immense chain of wanderings, that\nflow from the obscure notions these various systems hold forth--of the\nsinister ideas which superstition in all countries inculcates; it would\nbe much more conformable to truth to say, that all sound ethics, all\nmorality, either useful to individuals or beneficial to society, is\ntotally incompatible with systems which never represent their gods\nbut under the form of absolute monarchs, whose good qualities are\ncontinually eclipsed by dangerous caprices. Consequently, we shall\nbe obliged to acknowledge, that to establish morality upon a steady\nfoundation, we must necessarily commence by at least quitting those\nchimerical systems upon which the ruinous edifice of supernatural\nmorality has hitherto been constructed, which during such a number\nof ages, has been so uselessly preached up to a great portion of the\ninhabitants of the earth.\n\nWhatever may have been the cause that placed man in his present abode,\nthat gave him the faculties he possesses; whether the human species be\nconsidered as the work of nature, or whether it be supposed that he owes\nhis existence to an intelligent being, distinguished from nature; the\nexistence of man, such as he is, is a fact; we behold in him a being who\nthinks, who feels, who has intelligence, who loves himself, who tends\nto his own conservation, who in every moment of his duration strives\nto render his existence agreeable; who, the more easily to satisfy\nhis wants and to procure himself pleasure, congregates in society with\nbeings similar to himself; of whom his conduct can either conciliate\nthe favour, or draw upon him the disaffection. It is, then, upon these\ngeneral sentiments, inherent in his nature, which will subsist as long\nas his race shall endure, that we ought to found morality; which is only\na science embracing, the duties of men living together in society.\n\nThese duties have their spring in our nature, they are founded upon our\nnecessities, because we cannot reach the goal of happiness, if we do not\nemploy the requisite means: these means constitute the moral science. To\nbe permanently felicitous, we must so comport ourselves as to merit the\naffection, so act as to secure the assistance of those, beings with whom\nwe are associated; these will only accord us their love, lend us their\nesteem, aid us in our projects, labour to our peculiar happiness, but in\nproportion as our own exertions shall be employed for their advantage.\nIt is this necessity, flowing naturally out of the relations of mankind,\nthat is called MORAL OBLIGATION. It is founded upon reflection, rested\nupon those motives competent to determine sensible, intelligent beings,\nto pursue that line of conduct, which in best calculated to achieve that\nhappiness towards which they are continually verging. These motives\nin the human species, never can be other than the desire, always\nregenerating, of procuring good and avoiding evil. Pleasure and pain,\nthe hope of happiness, or the fear of misery, are the only motives\nsuitable to have an efficacious influence on the volition of sensible\nbeings. To impel them towards this end, it is sufficient these motives\nexist and be understood to have a knowledge of them, it is only\nrequisite to consider our own constitution: according to this, we shall\nfind we can only love those actions, approve that conduct, from whence\nresult actual and reciprocal utility; this constitutes VIRTUE. In\nconsequence, to conserve ourselves, to make our own happiness, to enjoy\nsecurity, we are compelled to follow the routine which conducts to\nthis end; to interest others in our own preservation, we are obliged\nto display an interest in theirs; we must do nothing that can have a\ntendency to interrupt that mutual co-operation which alone can lead\nto the felicity desired. Such is the true establishment of moral\nobligation.\n\nWhenever it is attempted to give any other basis to morality than the\nnature of man, we shall always deceive ourselves; none other can have\nthe least stability; none can be more solid. Some authors, even of great\nintegrity, have thought, that to give ethics more respectability in the\neyes of man, to render more inviolable those duties which his nature\nimposes on him, it was needful to clothe them with the authority of a\nbeing whom they have made superior to nature--whom they have rendered\nmore powerful than necessity. Theology, seizing on these ideas, with its\nown general want of just inference, has in consequence invaded morality;\nhas endeavoured to connect it with its various systems. By some it has\nbeen imagined, this union would render virtue more sacred; that the fear\nattached to invisible powers, who govern nature, would lend more weight,\nwould give more efficacy to its laws; in short, it has been believed\nthat man, persuaded, of the necessity of the moral system, seeing it\nunited with superstition, would contemplate superstition itself as\nnecessary to his happiness. Indeed it is the supposition that these\nsystems are essential to morality, that sustains the theological\nideas--that gives permanency to the greater part of all the creeds on\nearth; it is erroneously imagined that without them man would neither\nunderstand nor practise the duties he owes to others. This prejudice\nonce established, gives currency to the opinion that the vague ideas\ngrowing out of these systems are in such a manner connected with\nmorality, are so linked with the actual welfare of society, that they\ncannot be attacked without overturning the social duties that bind man\nto his fellow. It is thought that the reciprocity of wants, the desire\nof happiness, the evident interests of the community, would be mere\nskeleton motives, devoid of all active energy, if they did not borrow\ntheir substance from these various systems; if they were not invested\nwith the force derived from these numerous creeds; if they were not\nclothed with the sanction of those ideas which have been made the\narbiters of all things.\n\nNothing, however, is more borne out by the evidence of experience,\nnothing has more thoroughly impressed itself on the minds of reflecting\nmen, than the danger always arising from connecting truth with fiction;\nthe known with the unknown; the delirium of enthusiasm, with the\ntranquillity of reason. Indeed what has resulted from the confused\nalliance, from the marvellous speculations, which theology has made with\nthe most substantive realities? of mixing up its evanescent conjectures\nwith the confirmed aphorisms of time? The imagination bewildered, has\nmistaken truth: superstition, by aid of its gratuitous suppositions, has\ncommanded nature--made reason bow, under its bulky yoke,--submitted man\nto its own peculiar caprices; very frequently in the name of its gods\nobliged him to stifle his nature, to piously violate the most sacred\nduties of morality. When these superstitions have been desirous of\nrestraining mortals whom they had previously hood-winked, whom they had\nrendered irrational, it gave them only ideal curbs, imaginary motives;\nit substituted unsubstantial causes, for those which were substantive;\nmarvellous supernatural powers, for those which were natural, and\nwell understood; it supplied actual realities, by ideal romances and\nvisionary fables. By this inversion of principle, morality had no\nlonger any fixed basis: nature, reason, virtue, demonstration, were laid\nprostrate before the most undefinable systems; were made to depend\nupon oracular promulgations, which never spake distinctly; indeed, they\ngenerally silenced reason, were often delivered by fanatics, which time\nproved to be impostors; by those who, always adopting the appellation\nof inspired beings, gave forth nothing but the wanderings of their own\ndelirium, or else were desirous of profiting by the errors which\nthey themselves instilled into mankind. Thus these men became\ndeeply interested in preaching abject submission, non-resistance,\npassive-obedience, factitious virtues, frivolous ceremonies; in short,\nan arbitrary morality, conformable to their own reigning passions;\nfrequently prejudicial to the rest of the human race.\n\nIt was thus, in making ethics flow from these various systems, they in\npoint of fact submitted it to the dominant passions of men, who had a\ndirect interest in moulding it to their own advantage. In being disposed\nto found it upon undemonstrated theories, they founded it upon nothing;\nin deriving it from imaginary sources, of which each individual forms to\nhimself his own notion, generally adverse to that of his neighbour;\nin resting it upon obscure oracles, always delivered ambiguously,\nfrequently interpreted by men in the height of delirium, sometimes\nby knaves, who had immediate interests to promote, they rendered it\nunsteady--devoid of fixed principle,--too frequently left it to the\nmercy of the most crafty of mankind. In proposing to man the changeable\ncreeds of the theologians for a model, they weakened the moral system\nof human actions; frequently annihilated that which was furnished by\nnature; often substituted in its place nothing but the most perplexing\nincertitude; the most ruinous inconsistency. These systems, by the\nqualities which are ascribed, to them, become inexplicable enigmas,\nwhich each expounds as best suits himself; which each explains after his\nown peculiar mode of thinking; in which the theologian ever finds that\nwhich most harmonizes with his designs; which he can bend to his own\nsinister purposes; which he offers as irrefragible evidence of the\nrectitude of those actions, which at bottom have nothing but his own\nadvantage in view. If they exhort the gentle, indulgent, equitable man,\nto be good, compassionate, benevolent; they equally excite the furious,\nwho is destitute of these qualities, to be intolerant, inhuman,\npitiless. The morality of these systems varies in each individual;\ndiffers in one country from another; in fact, those actions which\nsome men look upon as sacred, which they have learned to consider\nmeritorious, make others shudder with horror--fill them with the most\npainful recollections. Some see the Divinity filled with gentleness and\nmercy; others behold him as full of wrath and fury, whose anger is to be\nassuaged by the commission of the most shocking cruelties.\n\nThe morality of nature is clear, it is evident even to those who outrage\nit. It is not thus with superstitious morality; this is as obscure\nas the systems which prescribe it; or rather as fluctuating as the\npassions, as changeable as the temperaments, of those who expound them;\nif it was left to the theologians, ethics ought to be considered as the\nscience of all others the most problematical, the most unsteady, the\nmost difficult to bring to a point; it would require the most profound,\npenetrating genius, the most active, vigorous mind, to discover the\nprinciples of those duties man owes to himself, that he ought to\nexercise towards others; this would render the sources of the moral\nsystem attainable by a very small number of individuals; would\neffectually lock them up in the cabinets of the metaphysicians; place\nthem under the treacherous guardianship of priests: to derive it from\nthose systems, which are in themselves undefinable, with the foundations\nof which no one is actually acquainted, which each contemplates after\nhis own mode, modifies after his own peculiar ideas, is at once to\nsubmit it to the caprice of every individual; it is completely to\nacknowledge, we know not from whence it is derived, nor whence it has\nits principles. Whatever may be the agent upon whom they make nature, or\nthe beings she contains, to depend; with whatever power they way suppose\nhim invested, it is very certain that man either does, or does not\nexist; but as soon as his existence is acknowledged, as soon as it is\nadmitted to be what it actually is, when he shall be allowed to be a\nsensible being living in society, in love with his own felicity, they\ncannot without either annihilating him, or new modelling him, cause\nhim to exist otherwise than he does. Therefore, according to his actual\nessence, agreeable to his absolute qualities, conformable to those\nmodifications which constitute him a being, of the human species,\nmorality becomes necessary to him, and the desire of conserving himself\nwill make him prefer virtue to vice, by the same necessity that\nhe prefers pleasure to pain. If, following up the doctrine of the\ntheologians, \"that man hath occasion for supernatural grace to enable\nhim to do good,\" it must be very injurious to sound principles of\nmorality; because he will always wait for \"the call from above,\" to\nexercise that virtue, which is indispensable to his welfare. Tertullian,\nnevertheless says expressly, \"wherefore will ye trouble yourselves,\nseeking after the law of God, whilst ye have that which is common to all\nthe world, and which is written on the tablets of nature?\"\n\nTo say, that man cannot possess any moral sentiments without embracing\nthe discordant systems offered to his acceptance, is, in point of fact,\nsaying, that he cannot distinguish virtue from vice; it is to pretend\nthat without these systems, man would not feel the necessity of eating\nto live, would not make the least distinction, would be absolutely\nwithout choice in his food: it is to pretend, that unless he is fully\nacquainted with the name, character, and qualities of the individual\nwho prepares a mess for him, he is not competent to discriminate whether\nthis mess be agreeable or disagreeable, good or bad. He who does not\nfeel himself satisfied what opinions to adopt, upon the foundation and\nmoral attributes of these systems, or who even formally denies them,\ncannot at least doubt his own existence-his own functions--his own\nqualities--his own mode of feeling--his own method of judging; neither\ncan he doubt the existence of other organized beings similar to himself;\nin whom every thing discovers to him qualities analogous with his own;\nof whom he can, by certain actions, either gain the love or incur the\nhatred--secure the assistance or attract the ill-will--merit the esteem\nor elicit the contempt; this knowledge is sufficient to enable him\nto distinguish moral good and evil. In short, every man enjoying\na well-ordered organization, possessing the faculty of making true\nexperience, will only need to contemplate himself in order to discover\nwhat he owes to others: his own nature will enlighten him much more\neffectually upon his duties, than those systems in which he will consult\neither his own unruly passions, those of some enthusiast, or those of\nan impostor. He will allow, that to conserve himself, to secure his own\npermanent welfare, he is frequently obliged to resist the blind impulse\nof his own desires; that to conciliate the benevolence of others, he\nmust act in a mode conformable to their advantage; in reasoning thus,\nhe will find out what virtue actually is; if he puts his theory into\npractice, he will be virtuous; he will be rewarded for his conduct by\nthe harmony of his own machine; by the legitimate esteem of himself,\nconfirmed by the good opinion of others, whose kindness he will have\nsecured: if he acts in a contrary mode, the trouble that will ensue, the\ndisorder of his frame, will quickly warn him that nature, thwarted by\nhis actions, disapproves his conduct, which is injurious to himself;\nto which he will be obliged to add the condemnation of others, who will\nhate him. If the wanderings of his mind prevent him from seeing the more\nimmediate consequences of his irregularities, neither will he perceive\nthe distant rewards, the remote punishments, which these systems\nhold forth; because they will never speak to him so distinctly as his\nconscience, which will either reward or punish him on the spot. Theology\nhas never yet known how to give a true definition of virtue: according\nto it, it is an effort of grace, that disposes man to do that which is\nagreeable to the Divinity. But what is this grace? How doth it act\nupon man? How shall we know what is agreeable to a Divinity who is\nincomprehensible to all men?\n\nEvery thing that has been advanced evidently proves, that superstitious\nmorality is an infinite loser when compared with the morality of nature,\nwith which, indeed, it is found in perpetual contradiction. Nature\ninvites man to love himself, to preserve his existence, to incessantly\naugment the sum of his happiness: superstition teaches him to be in love\nonly with formidable doctrines, calculated to generate his dislike;\nto detest himself; to sacrifice to his idols his most pleasing\nsensations--the most legitimate pleasures of his heart. Nature counsels\nman to consult reason, to adopt it for his guide; superstition\npourtrays this reason as corrupted, as a treacherous director, that\nwill infallibly lead him astray. Nature warns him to enlighten his\nunderstanding, to search after truth, to inform himself of his duties;\nsuperstition enjoins him not to examine any thing, to remain in\nignorance, to fear truth; it persuades him there are no relations so\nimportant to his interest, as those which subsist between himself and\nsystems which he can never understand. Nature tells the being who is\nin love with his welfare, to moderate his passions, to resist them when\nthey are found destructive to himself, to counteract them by substantive\nmotives collected from experience; superstition desires a sensible being\nto have no passions, to be an insensible mass, or else to combat his\npropensities by motives borrowed from the imagination, which are as\nvariable as itself. Nature exhorts man to be sociable, to love his\nfellow creatures, to be just, peaceable, indulgent, benevolent, to\npermit his associates to freely enjoy their opinions; superstition\nadmonishes him to fly society, to detach himself from his fellow\nmortals, to hate them when their imagination does not procure them\ndreams conformable to his own; to break through the most sacred bonds,\nto maintain his own opinions, or to frustrate those of his neighbour; to\ntorment, to persecute, to massacre, those who will not be mad after his\nown peculiar manner. Nature exacts that man in society should cherish\nglory, labour to render himself estimable, endeavour to establish an\nimperishable name, to be active, courageous, industrious; superstition\ntells him to be abject, pusillanimous, to live in obscurity, to occupy\nhimself with ceremonies; it says to him, be useless to thyself, and do\nnothing for others. Nature proposes to the citizen, for his model, men\nendued with honest, noble, energetic souls, who have usefully served\ntheir fellow citizens; superstition recommends to his imitation mean,\ncringing sycophants; extols pious enthusiasts, frantic penitents,\nzealous fanatics, who for the most ridiculous opinions have disturbed\nthe tranquility of empires. Nature urges the husband to be tender, to\nattach himself to the company of his mate, to cherish her in his bosom;\nsuperstition makes a crime of his susceptibility, frequently obliges\nhim to look upon the conjugal bonds as a state of pollution, as the\noffspring of imperfection. Nature calls to the father to nurture his\nchildren, to cherish their affection, to make them useful members of\nsociety; superstition advises him to rear them in fear of its systems,\nto hoodwink them, to make them superstitious, which renders them\nincapable of actually serving society, but extremely well calculated to\ndisturb its repose. Nature cries out to children to honor their parents,\nto listen to their admonitions, to be the support of their old age;\nsuperstition says, prefer the oracles; in support of the systems of\nwhich you are an admitted member, trample father and mother under your\nfeet. Nature holds out to the philosopher that he should occupy\nhimself with useful objects, consecrate his cares to his country, make\nadvantageous discoveries, suitable to perfect the condition of mankind;\nsuperstition saith, occupy thyself with useless reveries; employ thy\ntime in endless dispute; scatter about with a lavish hand the seeds of\ndiscord, calculated to induce the carnage of thy fellows; obstinately\nmaintain opinions which thou thyself canst never understand. Nature\npoints out to the perverse man, that he should blush for his vices, that\nhe should feel sorrow for his disgraceful propensities, that he should\nbe ashamed of crime; it shews him, that his most secret irregularities\nwill necessarily have an influence over his own felicity; superstition\ncrieth to the most corrupt men, to the most flagitious mortals, \"do not\nirritate the gods, whom thou knowest not; but if, peradventure, against\ntheir express command, thou dost deliver thyself up to crime, remember\nthat their mercy is infinite, that their compassion endureth for ever,\nthat therefore they may be easily appeased; thou hast nothing more to\ndo than to go into their temples, prostrate thyself before their\naltars, humiliate thyself at the feet of their ministers; expiate thy\ntransgressions by largesses, by sacrifices, by offerings, by ceremonies,\nand by prayer; these things done with a willing spirit, and a contrite\nheart, will pacify thine own conscience, and cleanse thee in the eyes of\nheaven.\"\n\nThe rights of the citizen, or the man in society, are not less injured\nby superstition, which is always in contradiction with sound politics.\nNature says distinctly to man, \"thou art free; no power on earth can\njustly deprive thee of thy rights, without thine own consent; and even\nthen, thou canst not legitimately make thyself a slave to thy like.\"\nSuperstition tells him he is a slave, condemned to groan all his life\nunder the iron rod of the representatives of its system. Nature commands\nman to love the country which gave him birth, to serve it faithfully,\nto blend his interests with it, to unite against all those who shall\nattempt to injure it; superstition generally orders him to obey without\nmurmur the tyrants who oppress it, to serve them against its best\ninterests, to merit their favors by contributing to enslave their fellow\ncitizens to their ungovernable caprices: notwithstanding these general\norders, if the sovereign be not sufficiently devoted to the priest,\nsuperstition quickly changes its language, it then calls upon subjects\nto become rebels; it makes it a duty in them to resist their masters;\nit cries out to them, \"it is better to obey the gods than men.\" Nature\nacquaints princes that they are men: that it is not by their capricious\nwhims that they can decide what is just; that it is not their wayward\nhumours that can mark what is unjust; that the public will maketh the\nlaw. Superstition often insinuates to them that they are gods, to whom\nnothing in this world ought to offer resistance; sometimes, indeed, it\ntransforms them into tyrants, whom enraged heaven is desirous should be\nimmolated to its wrath.\n\nSuperstition corrupts princes; these corrupt the law, which, like\nthemselves, becomes unjust; from thence institutions are perverted;\neducation only forms men who are worthless, blinded with prejudice,\nsmitten with vain objects, enamoured of wealth, devoted to pleasures,\nwhich they must obtain by iniquitous means: thus nature, mistaken, is\ndisdained; virtue is only a shadow quickly sacrificed to the slightest\ninterest, while superstition, far from remedying these evils to which\nit has given birth, does nothing more than render them still more\ninveterate; or else engenders sterile regrets which it presently\neffaces: thus, by its operation, man is obliged to yield to the force of\nhabit, to the general example, to the stream of those propensities, to\nthose causes of confusion, which conspire to hurry all his species, who\nare not willing to renounce their own welfare, on to the commission of\ncrime.\n\nHere is the mode by which superstition, united with politics, exert\ntheir efforts to pervert, abuse, and poison the heart of man; the\ngenerality of human institutions appear to have only for their object to\nabase the human character, to render it more flagitiously wicked. Do\nnot then let us be at all astonished if morality is almost every where\na barren speculation, from which every one is obliged to deviate in\npractice, if he will not risk the rendering himself unhappy. Men can\nonly have sound morals, when, renouncing his prejudices, he consults\nhis nature; but the continued impulse which his soul is every moment\nreceiving, on the part of more powerful motives, quickly compels him\nto forget those ethical rules which nature points out to him. He is\ncontinually floating between vice and virtue; we behold him unceasingly\nin contradiction with himself; if, sometimes, he justly appreciates the\nvalue of an honest, upright conduct, experience very soon shews him,\nthat this cannot lead him to any thing, which he has been taught to\ndesire, on the contrary, that it may be an invincible obstacle to the\nhappiness which his heart never ceases for an instant to search after.\nIn corrupt societies it is necessary to become corrupt, in order to\nbecome happy.\n\nCitizens, led astray at the same time both by their spiritual and\ntemporal guides, neither knew reason nor virtue. The slaves both of\ntheir superstitious systems, and of men like themselves, they had all\nthe vices attached to slavery; kept in a perpetual state of infancy,\nthey had neither knowledge nor principles; those who preached virtue to\nthem, knew nothing of it themselves, and could not undeceive them\nwith respect to those baubles in which they had learned to make their\nhappiness consist. In vain they cried out to them to stifle those\npassions which every thing conspired to unloose: in vain they made the\nthunder of the gods roll to intimidate men whose tumultuous passions\nrendered them deaf. It was soon discovered that the gods of the heavens\nwere much less feared than those of the earth; that the favour of the\nlatter procured a much more substantive welfare than the promises of\nthe former; that the riches of this world were more tangible than the\ntreasures reserved for favorites in the next; that it was much more\nadvantageous for men to conform themselves to the views of visible\npowers than to those of powers who were not within the compass of their\nvisual faculties.\n\nThus society, corrupted by its priests, guided by their caprice, could\nonly bring forth a corrupt offspring. It gave birth to avaricious,\nambitious, jealous, dissolute citizens, who never saw any thing happy\nbut crime; who beheld meanness rewarded; incapacity honoured; wealth\nadored; debauchery held in esteem; who almost every where found talents\ndiscouraged; virtue neglected; truth proscribed; elevation of soul\ncrushed; justice trodden under foot; moderation languishing in misery;\nliberality of mind obligated to groan under the ponderous bulk of\nhaughty injustice.\n\nIn the midst of this disorder, in this confusion of ideas, the precepts\nof morality could only be vague declamations, incapable of convincing\nany one. What barrier could superstition, with its imaginary motives,\noppose to the general corruption? When it spake reason, it could not be\nheard; its gods themselves were not sufficiently powerful to resist the\ntorrent; its menaces failed of effect, on those hearts which every thing\nhurried along to crime; its distant promises could not counterbalance\npresent advantages; its expiations, always ready to cleanse mortals from\ntheir sins, emboldened them to persevere in their criminal pursuits; its\nfrivolous ceremonies calmed their consciences; its zeal, its disputes,\nits caprices, only multiplied the evils, with which society found itself\nafflicted; only gave them an inveteracy that rendered them more\nwidely mischievous; in short, in the most vitiated nations there was\na multitude of devotees, and but very few honest men. Great and small\nlistened to the doctrines of superstition, when they appeared favorable\nto their dominant passions; when they were desirous to counteract\nthem, they listened no longer. Whenever superstition was conformable to\nmorality, it appeared incommodious, it was only followed when it\neither combatted ethics or destroyed them. The despot himself found\nit marvellous, when it assured him he was a god upon earth; that his\nsubjects were born to adore him alone, to administer to his phantasms.\nHe neglected it when it told him to be just; from thence he saw it was\nin contradiction with itself, that it was useless to preach equity to\na deified mortal; besides, he was assured the gods would pardon every\nthing, as soon as he should consent to recur to his priests, always\nready to reconcile them; the most wicked of their subjects reckoned in\nthe same manner upon their divine assistance: thus superstition, far\nfrom restraining vice, assured its impunity; its menaces could not\ndestroy the effects which its unworthy flattery had produced in princes;\nthese same menaces could not annihilate the hope which its expiations\nhad furnished to all. Sovereigns, either inflated with pride, or always\nconfident of washing out their crimes by timely sacrifices, no longer\nactually feared their gods; become gods themselves, they believed they\nwere permitted any thing against poor pitiful mortals, whom they no\nlonger considered under any other light than as playthings destined for\ntheir earthly amusement.\n\nIf the nature of man was consulted in his politics which supernatural\nideas have so woefully depraved, it would completely rectify those false\nnotions that are entertained equally by sovereigns and by subjects;\nit would contribute more amply than all the superstitions existing,\nto render society happy, powerful, and flourishing under rational\nauthority. Nature would teach man, it is for the purpose of enjoying\na greater portion of happiness, that mortals live together in society;\nthat it is its own preservation, its own immediate felicity, that\nsociety should have for its determinate, unchangeable object: that\nwithout equity, a nation only resembles a congregation of enemies; that\nhis most cruel foe, is the man who deceives him in order that he may\nenslave him; that the scourges most to be feared, are those priests who\ncorrupt his chiefs, who, in the name of the gods assure them of\nimpunity for their crimes: she would prove to him that association is a\nmisfortune under unjust, negligent, destructive governments.\n\nThis nature, interrogated by princes, would teach them they are men and\nnot gods; that their power is only derived from the consent of other\nmen; that they themselves are citizens, charged by other citizens, with\nthe care of watching over the safety of the whole; that the law ought\nto be only the expression of the public will; that it is never permitted\nthem to counteract nature, or to thwart the invariable end of society.\nThis nature would make monarchs feel, that to be truly great, to be\ndecidedly powerful, they ought to command elevated, virtuous souls; not\nminds degraded by despotism, vitiated by superstition. This nature would\nteach sovereigns, that in order to be cherished by their subjects, they\nought to afford them succour; to cause them to enjoy those benefits\nwhich their wants render imperative, that they should at all times\nmaintain them, inviolably, in the possession of their rights, of which\nthey are the appointed defenders--of which they are the constituted\nguardians. This nature would prove to all those princes who should deign\nto consult her, that it is only by good actions, by kindness, they can\neither merit the love, or secure the attachment of the people; that\noppression does nothing more than raise up enemies against them; that\nviolence only makes their power unsteady; that force, however\nbrutally used, cannot confer on them any legitimate right; that beings\nessentially in love with happiness, must sooner or later finish by\nrevolting against an authority that establishes itself by injustice;\nthat only makes itself felt by the outrage it commits: this is the\nmanner in which nature, the sovereign of all beings, in whose system all\nare equal, would speak to one of these superb monarchs, whom flattery\nhas deified:--\"Untoward, headstrong child! Pigmy, so proud of commanding\npigmies! Have they then assured thee that thou art a god? Have they\nflattered thee that thou art something supernatural? Know there is\nnothing superior to myself. Contemplate thine own insignificance,\nacknowledge thine impotence against the slightest of my blows. I can\nbreak thy sceptre; I can take away thine existence; I can level thy\nthrone with the dust; I can scatter thy people; I can destroy even the\nearth which thou inhabitest; and yet thou hast the folly to believe thou\nart a god. Be then, again, thyself; honestly avow that thou art a man,\nformed to submit to my laws equally with the meanest of thy subjects.\nLearn then, and never let it escape thy memory, that thou art the man of\nthy people; the minister of thy nation; the interpreter of its laws;\nthe executer of its will; the fellow-citizen of those whom thou hast the\nright of commanding, only because they consent to obey thee, in view of\nthat well being which thou promisest to procure for them. Reign, then,\non these conditions; fulfil thy sacred engagements. Be benevolent: above\nall, equitable. If thou art willing to have thy power assured to thee,\nnever abuse it; let it be circumscribed by the immovable limits of\neternal justice. Be the father of thy people, and they will cherish thee\nas thy children. But, if unmindful of thy duties, thou neglectest them;\nif negligent of thine own interest, thou separatest them from those of\nthy great family, if thou refusest to thy subjects that happiness which\nthou owest them; if, heedless of thy own security, thou armest thyself\nagainst them; thou shall be like all tyrants, the slave to gloomy care,\nthe bondman of alarm, the vassal of cruel suspicion: thou wilt become\nthe victim to thine own folly. Thy people, reduced to despair, shorn of\ntheir felicity, will no longer acknowledge thy divine rights. In vain,\nthen, thou wouldst sue for aid to that superstition which hath deified\nthee; it can avail nothing with thy people, whom sharp misery had\nrendered deaf; heaven will abandon thee to the fury of those enemies\nto which thy frenzy shall have given birth. Superstitious systems can\neffect nothing against my irrevocable decrees, which will that man shall\never irritate himself against the cause of his sorrows.\"\n\nIn short, every thing would make known to rational princes, that they\nhave no occasion for superstition to be faithfully obeyed on earth; that\nall the powers contained in these systems will not sustain them when\nthey shall act the tyrant; that their true friends are those who\nundeceive the people in their delusions; that their real enemies are\nthose who intoxicate them with flattery--who harden them in crime--who\nmake the road to heaven too easy for them--who feed them with fanciful,\nchimerical doctrines, calculated to make them swerve from those cares,\nto divert them from those sentiments, which they justly owe to their\nnations.\n\nIt is then, I repeat it, only by re-conducting man to nature, that we\ncan procure him distinct notions, evident opinions, certain knowledge;\nit is only by shewing him his true relations with his fellows, that\nwe can place him on the road to happiness. The human mind, blinded\nby theology, has scarcely advanced a single step. Man's superstitious\nsystems have rendered him sceptical on the most demonstrable truths.\nSuperstition, while it pervaded every thing, while it had an universal\ninfluence, served to corrupt the whole: philosophy, dragged in its\ntrain, although it swelled its triumphant procession, was no longer any\nthing but an imaginary science: it quitted the real world to plunge into\nthe sinuosities of the ideal, inconceivable labyrinths of metaphysics;\nit neglected nature, who spontaneously opened her book to its\nexamination, to occupy itself with systems filled with spirits, with\ninvisible powers, which only served to render all questions more\nobscure; which, the more they were probed, the more inexplicable\nthey became; which took delight in promulgating that which no one was\ncompetent to understand. In all difficulties it introduced the Divinity;\nfrom thence things only became more and more perplexed, until nothing\ncould be explained. Theological notions appear only to have been\ninvented to put man's reason to flight; to confound his judgment; to\ndeceive his mind; to overturn his clearest ideas in every science. In\nthe hands of the theologian, logic, or the art of reasoning, was nothing\nmore than an unintelligible jargon, calculated to support sophism,\nto countenance falsehood, to attempt to prove the most palpable\ncontradictions. Morality, as we have seen, became wavering and\nuncertain, because it was founded on ideal systems, never in harmony\nwith themselves, which, on the contrary, were continually contradicting\ntheir own most positive assertions. Politics, as we have elsewhere said,\nwere cruelly perverted by the fallacious ideas given to sovereigns of\ntheir actual rights. Jurisprudence was determinately submitted to the\ncaprices of superstition, which shackled labour, chained down human\nindustry, controuled activity, and fettered the commerce of nations.\nEvery thing, in short, was sacrificed to the immediate interests of\nthese theologians: in the place of every rational science, they taught\nnothing but an obscure, quarrelsome metaphysics, which but too often\ncaused the blood of those unhappy people to flow copiously who were\nincapable of understanding its hallucinations.\n\nBorn an enemy to experience, theology, that supernatural science, was\nan invincible obstacle to the progress of the natural sciences, as\nit almost always threw itself in their way. It was not permitted to\nexperimental philosophy, to natural history, to anatomy, to see any\nthing but through the jaundiced eye of superstition. The most evident\nfacts were rejected with disdain, proscribed with horror, when ever they\ncould not be made to quadrate with the idle hypotheses of superstition.\nVirgil, the Bishop of Saltzburg, was condemned by the church, for having\ndared to maintain the existence of the antipodes; Gallileo suffered the\nmost cruel persecutions, for asserting that the sun did not make its\nrevolution round the earth. Descartes was obliged to die in a foreign\nland. Priests, indeed, have a right to be the enemies to the sciences;\nthe progress of reason must, sooner or later, annihilate superstitious\nideas. Nothing that is founded upon nature, that is bottomed upon truth,\ncan ever be lost; while the systems of imaginations, the creeds of\nimposture, must be overturned. Theology unceasingly opposed itself to\nthe happiness of nations--to the progress of the human mind--to useful\nresearches--to the freedom of thought; it kept man in ignorance; all\nhis steps being guided by it, he was no more than a tissue of errors.\nIndeed, is it resolving a question in natural philosophy, to say that\nan effect which excites our surprise, that an unusual phenomenon, that a\nvolcano, a deluge, a hurricane, a comet, &c. are either signs of divine\nwrath, or works contrary to the laws of nature? In persuading nations,\nas it has done, that the calamities, whether physical or moral, which\nthey experience, are the effects of the divine anger, or chastisements\nwhich his power inflicts on them, has it not, in fact, prevented them\nfrom seeking after remedies for these evils? Would it not have been more\nuseful to have studied the nature of things, to have sought in nature\nherself, or in human industry, for succours against those sorrows\nwith which mortals are afflicted, than to attribute the evil which\nman experiences to an unknown power, against whose will it cannot be\nsupposed there exists any relief? The study of nature, the search after\ntruth, elevates the soul, expands the genius, is calculated to render\nman active, to make him courageous. Theological notions appear to\nhave been made to debase him, to contract his mind, to plunge him into\ndespondence. In the place of attributing to the divine vengeance those\nwars, those famines, those sterilities, those contagions, that multitude\nof calamities, which desolate the earth; would it not have been more\nuseful, more consistent with truth, to have shewn man that these evils\nwere to be ascribed to his own folly, or rather to the unruly passions,\nto the want of energy, to the tyranny of some princes, who sacrifice\nnations to their frightful delirium? The irrational people, instead of\namusing themselves with expiations for their pretended crimes, seeking\nto render themselves acceptable to imaginary powers; should they not\nrather have sought in a more healthy administration, the true means of\navoiding those scourges, to which they were the victims? Natural evils\ndemand natural remedies: ought not experience then long since to\nhave convinced mortals of the inefficacy of supernatural remedies, of\nexpiatory sacrifices, of fastings, of processions, &c. which almost all\nthe people of the earth have vainly opposed to the disasters which they\nexperienced?\n\nLet us then conclude, that theology with its notions, far from being\nuseful to the human species, is the true source of all those sorrows\nwhich afflict the earth of all those errors by which man is blinded; of\nthose prejudices which benumb mankind; of that ignorance which renders\nhim credulous; of those vices which torment him; of those governments\nwhich oppress him. Let us be fully persuaded that those theological,\nsupernatural ideas, with which man is inspired from his infancy, are\nthe actual causes of his habitual folly; are the springs of his\nsuperstitious quarrels; of his sacred dissensions; of his inhuman\npersecutions. Let us, at length, acknowledge, that they are these fatal\nideas which have obscured morality; corrupted polities; retarded the\nprogress of the sciences; annihilated happiness; banished peace from the\nbosom of mankind, Then let it be no longer dissimulated, that all those\ncalamities, for which man turns his eyes towards heaven, bathed in\ntears, have their spring in the imaginary systems he has adopted:\nlet him, therefore, cease to expect relief from them; let him seek\nin nature, let him search in his own energies, those resources, which\nsuperstition, deaf to his cries, will never procure for him. Let him\nconsult the legitimate desires of his heart, and he will find that which\nhe oweth to himself, also that which he oweth to others; let him examine\nhis own essence, let him dive into the aim of society, from thence he\nwill no longer be a slave; let him consult experience, he will find\ntruth, and he will discover, that _error can never possible render him\nhappy._\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. X.\n\n_Man can form no Conclusion from the Ideas which are offered him of the\nDivinity.--Of their want of just Inference.--Of the Inutility of his\nConduct._\n\n\nIt has been already stated, that ideas to be useful, must be founded\nupon truth; that experience must at all times demonstrate their justice:\nif, therefore, as we have proved, the erroneous ideas which man has in\nalmost all ages formed to himself of the Divinity, far from being of\nutility, are prejudicial to morality, to politics, to the happiness of\nsociety, to the welfare of the individuals who compose it, in short, to\nthe progress of the human understanding; reason, and our interest, ought\nto make us feel the necessity of banishing from our mind these illusive,\nfutile opinions, which can never do more than confound it--which can\nonly disturb the tranquillity of our hearts. In vain should we flatter\nourselves with arriving at the correction of theological notions;\nerroneous in their principles, they are not susceptible of reform. Under\nwhatever shape an error presents itself, as soon as man shall attach an\nundue importance to it, it will, sooner or later, finish by producing\nconsequences dangerous in proportion to their extent. Besides, the\ninutility of those researches, which in all ages have been made after\nthe true nature of the Divinity, the notions that have hitherto been\nentertained, have done little more than throw it into greater obscurity,\neven to those who have most profoundly meditated on the subject; then,\nought not this very inutility to convince us that this subject is not\nwithin the reach of our capacity that this being will not be better\nknown to us, or by our descendants, than it hath been to our ancestors,\neither the most savage or the most ignorant? The object, which of all\nothers man has at all times reasoned upon the most, written upon the\nmost, nevertheless remains the least known; far from progressing in his\nresearch, time, with the aid of theological ideas, has only rendered\nit more impossible to be conceived. If the Divinity be such as dreaming\ntheology depicts, he must himself be a Divinity who is competent to form\nan idea of him. We know little of man, we hardly know ourselves, or our\nown faculties, yet we are disposed to reason upon a being inaccessible\nto our senses. Let us, then, travel in peace over the line described for\nus by nature, without having a wish to diverge from it, to hunt after\nvague systems; let us occupy ourselves with our true happiness; let us\nprofit of the benefits spread before us; let us labour to multiply them,\nby diminishing the number of our errors; let us quietly submit to those\nevils we cannot avoid, and not augment them by filling our mind with\nprejudices calculated to lead us astray. When we shall give it serious\nreflection, every thing will clearly prove that the pretended science of\ntheology is, in truth, nothing but presumptuous ignorance, masked under\npompous, unintelligible words. In short, let us terminate unfruitful\nresearches; be content at least to acknowledge our invincible ignorance;\nit will clearly be more substantively advantageous, than an arrogant\nscience, which has hitherto done little more than sow discord on the\nearth--affliction in the heart of man.\n\nIn supposing a sovereign intelligence who governs the world; in\nsupposing a Divinity who exacts from his creatures that they should\nhave a knowledge of him, that they should understand his attributes,\nhis wisdom, his power; who is desirous they should render him homage; it\nmust be allowed, that no man on earth in this respect completely fulfils\nthe views of providence. Indeed, nothing is more demonstrable than the\nimpossibility in which the theologians find themselves, to form to their\nmind any idea whatever of the Divinity. Procopius, the first bishop of\nthe Goths, says in the most solemn manner: \"I esteem it a very foolish\ntemerity to be disposed to penetrate into the knowledge of the nature of\nGod;\" and further on he acknowledges, \"that he has nothing more to say\nof him, except that he is perfectly good. He who knoweth more, whether\nhe be ecclesiastic or layman, has only to tell it.\" The weakness, the\nobscurity of the proofs offered, of the systems attributed to him, the\nmanifest contradictions into which they fall, the sophisms, the begging\nof the question, which are employed, evidently prove they are themselves\nin the greatest incertitude upon the nature of that being with whom it\nis their profession to occupy their thoughts: even the author of _A\nNew View of Society_ acknowledges, \"that up to this moment it is, not\npossible yet to say which is right or which is wrong: that had any one\nof the various opposing systems which until this day have governed the\nworld, and disunited man from man, been true, without any mixture of\nerror; that system, very speedily after its public promulgation, would\nhave pervaded society, and compelled all men to have acknowledged its\ntruth.\" But granting that they have a knowledge of this being, that\nhis essence, his attributes, his systems, were so fully demonstrated to\nthem, as no longer to leave any doubt in their mind, do the rest of the\nhuman race enjoy the same advantages? Are they, in fact, in a condition\nto be charged with this knowledge? Ingenuously, how many persons are\nto be found in the world, who have the leisure, the capacity, the\npenetration, necessary to understand what is meant to be designated\nunder the name of an immaterial being--of a pure spirit, who moveth\nmatter without being himself matter; who is the motive of all the powers\nof nature, without being contained in nature--without being able to\ntouch it? Are there, in the most religious societies, many persons who\nare competent to follow their spiritual guides, in the subtle proofs\nwhich they adduce in evidence of their creeds, upon which they bottom\ntheir systems of theology?\n\nWithout question very few men are capable of profound, connected\nmeditation; the exercise of intense thought is, for the greater number,\na species of labour as painful as it is unusual. The people, obliged\nto toil hard, in order to obtain subsistence, are commonly incapable of\nreflection; nobles, men of the world, women, young people, occupied with\ntheir own immediate affairs, taken up with gratifying their passions,\nemployed in procuring themselves pleasure, as rarely think deeply as the\nuninformed. There are not, perhaps, two men in an hundred thousand,\nwho have seriously asked themselves the question, _What it is they\nunderstand by the word God?_ Whilst it is extremely rare to find persons\nto whom the nature of God is a problem. Nevertheless, as we have said,\nconviction supposes that evidence alone has banished doubt from the\nmind. Where, then, are the web who are convinced of the rectitude\nof these systems? Who are those in whom we shall find the complete\ncertitude of these truths, so important to all? Who are the persons, who\nhave given themselves an accurate account of the ideas they have\nformed upon the Divinity, upon his attributes, upon his essence? Alas!\nthroughout the whole world, are only to be seen some speculators, who,\nby dint of occupying themselves with the idea, have, with great fatuity,\nbelieved they have discovered something decisive in the confused,\nunconnected wanderings of their own imagination; they have, in\nconsequence, endeavoured to form a whole, which, chimerical as it is,\nthey have accustomed themselves to consider as actually existing: by\nforce of musing upon it, they have sometimes persuaded themselves they,\nsaw it distinctly; these have not unfrequently succeeded in making\nothers believe, their reveries, although they may not have mused upon it\nquite so much as themselves.\n\nIt is seldom more than hearsay, that the mass of the people adopt\neither the systems of their fathers, or of their priests: authority,\nconfidence, submission, habit, take place of conviction--supersede\nproof; they prostrate themselves before idols, lend themselves to\ndifferent creeds, because their ancestors have taught them to fall down,\nand worship; but never do they inquire wherefore they bend the knee: it\nis only because, in times far distant, their legislators, their guides,\nhave imposed it upon them as a duty; these have said, \"adore and believe\nthose gods, whom ye cannot comprehend; yield yourselves in this\ninstance to our profound wisdom; we know more than ye do respecting\nthe Divinity.\" But wherefore, it might be inquired, should I take this\nsystem upon your authority? It is, they will reply, because the gods\nwill have it thus; because they will punish you, if you dare to resist.\nBut are not these gods the thing in question? Nevertheless, man has\nalways been satisfied with this circle of errors; the idleness of his\nmind made him find it most easy to yield to the judgment of others.\nAll superstitions are uniformly founded upon error, established by\nauthority; equally forbid examination; are equally indisposed to permit\nthat man should reason upon them; it is power that wills he should\nunconditionally accredit them: they are rested solely upon the influence\nof some few men, who pretend to a knowledge of things, which they admit\nare incomprehensible for all their species; who, at the same time,\naffirm they are sent as missionaries to announce them to the inhabitants\nof the earth: these inconceivable systems, formed in the brain of some\nenthusiastic persons, have most unquestionably occasion for men to\nexpound them to their fellows. Man is generally credulous as a child\nupon those objects which relate to superstition; he is told he must\nbelieve them; as he generally understands nothing of the matter, he\nimagines he runs no risk in joining sentiments with his priest, whom he\nsupposes has been competent to discover what he himself is not able to\ncomprehend. The most rational people argue thus: \"What shall I do? What\ninterest can so many persons have to deceive?\" But, seriously, does this\nprove that they do not deceive? They may do it from two motives: either\nbecause they are themselves deceived, or because they have a great\ninterest in deceiving. By the confession of the theologians themselves,\nman is, for the greater part, without _religion_: he has only\n_superstition_. Superstition, according to them, \"is a worship of the\nDivinity, either badly understood or irrational,\" or else, \"worship\nrendered to a false Divinity.\" But where are the people or the clergy\nwho will allow, either that their Divinity is false, or their worship\nirrational? How shall it be decided who is right, or who is wrong? It\nis evident that in this affair great numbers must be wrong. Indeed,\nBuddaeus, in his _Treatise on Atheism_, tells us, \"in order that a\nreligion may be true, not only the object of the worship must be true,\nbut we must also have a just idea of it. He, then, who adoreth God\nwithout knowing him, adoreth him in a perverse and corrupt manner, and\nis generally guilty of superstition.\" This granted, would it not be fair\nto demand of the theologians, if they themselves can boast of having a\n_just idea_ or real knowledge of the Divinity?\n\nAdmit for a moment they have, would it not then be evident, that it is\nfor the priest, for the inspired, for the metaphysician, that this\nidea, which is said to be so necessary for the whole human race, is\nexclusively reserved? If we examine, however, we shall not find any\nharmony among the theological notions of these various inspired men, or\nof that hierarchy which is scattered over the earth: even those who\nmake a profession of the same system, are not in unison upon the\nleading points. Are they ever contented with the proofs offered by their\ncolleagues? Do they unanimously subscribe to each other's ideas?\nAre they agreed upon the conduct to be adopted; upon the manner of\nexplaining their texts; upon the interpretation of the various oracles?\nDoes there exist one country upon the whole earth, where the science of\ntheology is actually perfectioned?--where the ideas of the Divinity are\nrendered so clear, as not to admit of cavil? Has this science obtained\nany of that steadiness, any of that consistency, any of that uniformity,\nwhich is found attached to other branches of human knowledge; even to\nthe most futile arts, or to those trades which are most despised?\nHas the multitude of subtle distinctions, with which theology in some\ncountries is filled throughout; have the words spirit, immateriality,\nincorporeity, predestination, grace, with other ingenious inventions,\nimagined by sublime thinkers, who during so many ages have succeeded\neach other, actually had any other effect than to perplex things; to\nrender the whole obscure; decidedly unintelligible? Alas! do, they not\noffer practical demonstration, that the science held forth as the most\nnecessary to man, has not, hitherto, been able to acquire the least\ndegree of stability; has remained in the most determined state of\nindecision; has entirely failed in obtaining solidity? For thousands of\nyears the most idle dreamers have been relieving each other, meditating\non systems, diving into concealed ways, inventing hypothesis suitable\nto develope this important enigma. Their slender success has not at all\ndiscouraged theological vanity; the priests have always spoken of it as\nof a thing with which they were most intimately acquainted; they have\ndisputed with all the pertinancy of demonstrated argument; they\nhave destroyed each other with the most savage barbarity; yet,\nnotwithstanding, to this moment, this sublime science remains entirely\nunauthenticated; almost unexamined. Indeed, if things were coolly\ncontemplated, it would be obvious that these theories are not formed for\nthe generality of mankind, who for the most part are utterly incompetent\nto comprehend the aerial subtilities upon which they rest. Who is the\nman, that understandeth any thing of the fundamental principles of\nthese systems? Whose capacity embraces spirituality, immateriality,\nincorporeity, or the mysteries of which he is every day informed? Are\nthere many persons who can boast of perfectly understanding the state of\nthe question, in those theological disputations, which have frequently\nhad the potency to disturb the repose of mankind? Nevertheless, even\nwomen believe themselves obliged to take part in the quarrels excited by\nthese idle speculators, who are of less actual utility, to society, than\nthe meanest artizan.\n\nMan would, perhaps, have been too happy, if confining himself to those\nvisible objects which interest him, he had employed half that energy\nwhich he has wasted in researches after incomprehensible systems, upon\nperfectioning the real sciences; in giving consistency to his laws; in\nestablishing his morals upon solid foundations; in spreading a wholesome\neducation among his fellows. He would, unquestionably, have been much\nwiser, more fortunate, if he had agreed to let his idle, unemployed\nguides quarrel among themselves unheeded; if he had permitted them\nto fathom those depths calculated to astound the mind, to amaze the\nintellect, without intermeddling with their irrational disputes. But it\nis the essence of ignorance, to attach great importance to every thing\nwhich it doth not understand. Human vanity makes the mind bear up\nagainst difficulties. The more an object eludes our inquiry, the more\nefforts we make to compass it; because from thence our pride is spurred\non, our curiosity is set afloat, our passions are irritated, and it\nassumes the character of being highly interesting to us. On the other\nhand, the more continued, the more laborious our researches have been,\nthe more importance we attach to either our real or our pretended\ndiscoveries; the more we are desirous not to have wasted our time;\nbesides, we are always ready warmly to defend the soundness of our own\njudgment. Do not let us then be surprised at the interest that ignorant\npersons have at all times taken in the discoveries of their priests; nor\nat the obstinate pertinacity which they have ever manifested in their\ndisputes. Indeed, in combating for his own peculiar system, each only\nfought for the interests of his own vanity, which of all human passions\nis the most quickly alarmed, the most calculated to lead man on to the\ncommission of great follies.\n\nTheology is truly the vessel of the Danaides. By dint of contradictory\nqualities, by means of bold assertions, it has so shackled its own\nsystems as to render it impossible they should act. Indeed, when even we\nshould suppose the existence of these theological systems, the reality\nof codes so discordant with each other and with themselves, we can\nconclude nothing from them to authorize the conduct, or sanction the\nmode of worship which they prescribe. If their gods are infinitely good,\nwherefore should we dread them? If they are infinitely wise, what reason\nhave we to disturb ourselves with our condition? If they are omniscient,\nwherefore inform them of our wants, why fatigue them with our requests?\nIf they are omnipresent, of what use can it be to erect temples to them?\nIf they are lords of all, why make sacrifices to them; why bring them\nofferings of what already belongs to them? If they are just, upon what\nfoundation believe that they will punish those creatures whom they have\nfilled with imbecility? If their grace works every thing in man, what\nreason can there be why he should be rewarded? If they are omnipotent,\nhow can they be offended; how can we resist them? If they are rational,\nhow can the enrage themselves against blind mortals, to whom they have\nleft the liberty of acting irrationally? If they are immutable, by what\nright shall we pretend to make them change their decrees? If they are\ninconceivable, wherefore should we occupy ourselves with them? If the\nknowledge of these systems be the most necessary thing, wherefore are\nthey not more evident, more consistent, more manifest?\n\nThis granted, he who can undeceive himself on the afflicting notions\nof these theories, hath this advantage over the credulous, trembling,\nsuperstitious mortal--that he establishes in his heart a momentary\ntranquility, which, at least, rendereth him happy in this life. If the\nstudy of nature hath banished from his mind, those chimeras with which\nthe superstitions man is infested, he, at least, enjoys a security of\nwhich this sees himself deprived. In consulting this nature, his\nfears are dissipated, his opinions, whether true or false, acquire a\nsteadiness of character; a calm succeeds the storm, which panic terror,\nthe result of wavering notions, excite in the hearts of all men who\noccupy themselves with these systems. If the human soul, cheered by\nphilosophy, had the boldness to consider things coolly; it would no\nlonger behold the universe submitted to implacable systems, under which\nman is continually trembling. If he was rational, he would perceive that\nin committing evil he did not disturb nature; that he either injureth\nhimself alone, or injures other beings capable of feeling the effects of\nhis conduct, from thence he would know the line of his duties; he would\nprefer virtue to vice, for his own permanent repose: he would, for\nhis own satisfaction, for his own felicity in this world, find himself\ndeeply interested in the practice of moral goodness; in rendering\nvirtue habitual; in making it dear to the feeling of his heart: his\nown immediate welfare would be concerned in avoiding vice, in detesting\ncrime, during the short season of his abode among intelligent, sensible\nbeings, from whom he expects his happiness. By attaching himself to\nthese rules, he would live contented with his own conduct; he would\nbe cherished by those who are capable of feeling the influence of his\nactions; he would expect without inquietude the term when his existence\nshould have a period; he would have no reason to dread the existence\nwhich _might_ follow the one he at present enjoys: he would not fear to\nbe deceived in his reasonings. Guided by demonstration, led gently along\nby honesty, he would perceive, that he could have nothing to dread from\na beneficent Divinity, who would not punish him for those involuntary\nerrors which depend upon the organization, which without his own consent\nhe has received.\n\nSuch a man so conducting himself, would have nothing to apprehend,\nwhether at the moment of his death, he falls asleep for ever; or whether\nthat sleep is only a prelude to another existence, in which he shall\nfind himself in the presence of his God. Addressing himself to the\nDivinity, he might with confidence say,\n\n\"O God! Father, who hath rendered thyself invisible to thy child!\nInconceivable, hidden Author of all, whom I could not discover! Pardon\nme, if my limited understanding hath not been able to know thee, in a\nnature, where every thing hath appeared to me to be necessary! Excuse\nme, if my sensible heart hath not discerned thine august traits among\nthose numerous systems which superstitious mortals tremblingly adore:\nif, in that assemblage of irreconcileable qualities, with which the\nimagination hath clothed thee, I could only see a phantom. How could my\ncoarse eyes perceive thee in nature, in which all my senses have\nnever been able to bring me acquainted but with material beings, with,\nperishable forms? Could I, by the aid of these senses, discover thy\nspiritual essence, of which no one could furnish me any idea? Could\nmy feeble brain, obliged to form its judgments after its own capacity,\ndiscern thy plans, measure thy wisdom, conceive thine intelligence,\nwhilst the universe presented to my view a continued mixture of order\nand confusion--of good and evil--of formation and destruction? Have I\nbeen able to render homage to the justice of thy priests, whilst I so\nfrequently beheld crime triumphant, virtue in tears? Could I possibly\nacknowledge the voice of a being filled with wisdom, in those ambiguous,\npuerile, contradictory oracles, published in thy name in the different\ncountries of the earth I have quitted? If I have not known thy peculiar\nexistence, it is because I have not known either what thou couldst be,\nwhere thou couldst be placed, or the qualities which could be assigned\nthee. My ignorance is excusable, because it was invincible: my mind\ncould not bend itself under the authority of men, who acknowledged they\nwere as little enlightened upon thine essence as myself; who were for\never disputing among themselves; who were in harmony only in imperiously\ncrying out to me, to sacrifice to them that reason which thou hadst\ngiven to me; But, oh God! If thou cherishest thy creatures, I also, like\nthee, have cherished them; I have endeavoured to render them happy, in\nthe sphere in which I have lived. If thou art the author of reason,\nI have always listened to it--have ever endeavoured to follow it; if\nvirtue pleaseth thee, my heart hath always honoured it; I have never\nwillingly outraged it: when my powers have permitted me, I have myself\npractised it; I was an affectionate husband, a tender father, a\nsincere friend, a faithful subject, a zealous citizen; I have held out\nconsolation to the afflicted; and if the foibles of my nature have been\neither injurious to myself or incommodious to others, I have not at\nleast made the unfortunate groan under the weight of my injustice. I\nhave not devoured the substance of the poor--I have not seen without\npity the widow's tears; I have not heard without commiseration the cries\nof the orphan. If thou didst render man sociable, if thou was disposed\nthat society should subsist, if thou wast desirous the community might\nbe happy, I have been the enemy to all who oppressed him, the decided\nfoe to all those who deceived him, in order that they might advantage\nthemselves of his misfortunes.\n\n\"If I have not thought properly of thee, it is because my understanding\ncould not conceive thee; if I have spoken ill of thy systems, it is\nbecause my heart, partaking too much of human nature, revolted against\nthe odious portrait under which they depicted thee. My wanderings have\nbeen the effect of the temperament which thou hast given me; of the\ncircumstances in which, without my consent, thou hast placed me; of\nthose ideas, which in despite of me, have entered into my mind. As thou\nart good, as thou art just, (as we are assured thou art) thou wilt not\npunish me for the wanderings of mine imagination; for faults caused by\nmy passions, which are the necessary consequence of the organization\nwhich I have received from thee. Thus I cannot doubt thy justice, I\ncannot dread the condition which thou preparest for me. Thy goodness\ncannot have permitted that I should incur punishment for inevitable\nerrors. Thou wouldst rather prevent my being born, than have called me\ninto the rank of intelligent beings, there to enjoy the fatal liberty of\nrendering myself eternally unhappy.\"\n\nIt is thus that a disciple of nature, who, transported all at once into\nthe regions of space, should find himself in the presence of his God,\nwould be able to speak, although he should not have been in a condition\nto lend himself to all the abstract systems of theology which appear to\nhave been invented for no other purpose than to overturn in his mind all\nnatural ideas. This illusory science seems bent an forming its systems\nin a manner the most contradictory to human reason; notwithstanding\nwe are obliged to judge in this world according to its dictates; if,\nhowever, in the succeeding world, there is nothing conformable to this,\nwhat can be of more inutility, than to think of it or reason upon it?\nBesides, wherefore should we leave it to the judgment of men, who are,\nthemselves, only enabled to act after our manner?\n\nWithout a very marked derangement of our organs, our sentiments hardly\never vary upon those objects which either our senses experience, or\nwhich reason has clearly demonstrated, In whatever circumstances we are\nfound, we have no doubt either upon the whiteness of snow, the light\nof day, or the utility of virtue. It is not so with those objects which\ndepend solely upon our imagination--which are not proved to us by the\nconstant evidence of our senses; we judge of them variously, according\nto the dispositions in which we find ourselves. These dispositions\nfluctuate by reason of the involuntary impulse which our organs every\ninstant receive, on the part of an infinity of causes, either exterior\nto ourselves, or else contained within our own frame. These organs are,\nwithout our knowledge, perpetually modified, either relaxed or braced\nby the density, more or less, of the atmosphere; by heat and by cold; by\ndryness and by humidity; by health and by sickness; by the heat of the\nblood; by the abundance of bile; by the state of the nervous system, &c.\nThese various causes have necessarily an influence upon the momentary\nideas, upon the instantaneous thoughts, upon the fleeting opinions of\nman, He is, consequently, obliged to see under a great variety of hues,\nthose objects which his imagination presents to him; without it all\ntimes having the capacity to correct them by experience: to compare them\nby memory. This, without doubt, is the reason why man is continually\nobliged to view his gods, to contemplate his superstitious systems,\nunder such a diversity of aspects, in different periods of his\nexistence. In the moment, when his fibres find themselves disposed to\nhe tremulous, he will be cowardly, pusillanimous; he will think of these\nsystems only with fear and trembling. In the moment, when these same\nfibres shall have more tension, he will possess more firmness, he will\nthen view these systems with greater coolness. The theologian will call\nhis pusillanimity, \"inward feeling;\" \"warning from heaven;\" \"secret\ninspiration;\" but he who knoweth man, will say that this is nothing\nmore than a mechanical motion, produced by a physical or natural cause.\nIndeed, it is by a pure physical mechanism, that we can explain all the\nrevolutions that take place in the system, frequently from one minute\nto another; all the fluctuations in the opinions of mankind; all the\nvariations of his judgment: in consequence of which we sometimes see him\nreasoning justly, sometimes in the most irrational manner.\n\nThis is the mode by which, without recurring to grace, to inspirations,\nto visions, to supernatural notions, we can render ourselves an account\nof that uncertain, that wavering state into which we sometimes behold\npersons fall, when there is a question respecting their superstition,\nwho are otherwise extremely enlightened. Frequently, in despite of all\nreasoning, momentary dispositions re-conduct them to the prejudices of\ntheir infancy, upon which on other occasions they appear to be\nentirely undeceived. These changes are very apparent, especially under\ninfirmities, in sickness, or at approach of death. The barometer of the\nunderstanding is then frequently obliged to fall. Those chimeras which\nhe despised, or which in a state of health, he set down at their true\nvalue, are then realized. He trembles, because his machine is enfeebled;\nhe is irrational because his brain is incapable of fulfilling its\nfunctions with exactitude. It is evident these are the actual causes\nof those changes which the priests well know how to make use of against\nwhat they call incredulity; from which they draw proofs of the reality\nof their sublimated opinions. Those conversions, or those alterations,\nwhich take place, in the ideas of man, have always their origin in some\nderangement of his machine; brought on either by chagrin or by some\nother natural or known cause.\n\nSubmitted to the continual influence of physical causes, our systems\ninvariably follow the variations of the body; we reason well when the\nbody is healthy--when it is soundly constituted; we reason badly when\nthe corporeal faculties are deranged; from thence our ideas become\ndisconnected, we are no longer equal to the task of associating them\nwith precision; we are incapable of finding principles, or to draw\nfrom them just inferences; the brain, in fact, is shaken; we no longer\ncontemplate any thing under its actual point of view. It is a man of\nthis kind, who does not see things in frosty weather, under the same\ntraits as when the season is cloudy, or when it is rainy; he does not\nview them in the same manner in sorrow as in gaiety; when in company\nas when alone. Good sense suggests to us, that it is when the body is\nsound, when the mind is undisturbed by any mist, that we can reason with\naccuracy; this state can furnish us with a general standard, calculated\nto regulate our judgment; even to rectify our ideas, when unexpected\ncauses shall make them waver.\n\nIf the opinions even of the same individual, are fluctuating, subject to\nvaccillate, how many changes must they experience in the various beings\nwho compose the human race? If there do not, perhaps, exist two persons\nwho see a physical object under the same exact form or colour, what much\ngreater variety must they not have in their mode of contemplating those\nthings which have existence only in their imagination? What an infinity\nof combinations, what a multitude of ideas, must not minds essentially\ndifferent, form to themselves when they endeavour to compose an ideal\nbeing, which each moment of their existence must present to them under\na different aspect? It would, then, be a most irrational enterprise,\nto attempt to prescribe to man what he ought to think of superstition,\nwhich is entirely under the cognizance of his imagination; for the\nadmeasurement of which, as we have very frequently repeated, mortals\nwill never have any common standard. To oppugn the superstitious\nopinions of man, is to commence hostilities with his imagination--to\nattack his fancy--to be at war with his organization--to enter the lists\nwith his habits, which are of themselves sufficient to identify with\nhis existence, the most absurd, the most unfounded ideas. The more\nimagination man has, the greater enthusiast he will be in matters of\nsuperstition; reason will have the less ability to undeceive him in\nhis chimeras. In proportion as his fancy is powerful, these chimeras\nthemselves will become food necessary to its ardency. In fine, to battle\nwith the superstitious notions of man, is to combat the passions he\nusually indulges for the marvellous; it is to assail him on that side\nwhere he is least vulnerable; to force him in that position where he\nunites all his strength--where he keeps the most vigilant guard. In\ndespite of reason, those persons who have a lively imagination, are\nperpetually re-conducted to those chimeras which habit renders dear to\nthem, even when they are found troublesome; although they should prove\nfatal. Thus a tender soul hath occasion for a God that loveth him;\nthe happy enthusiast needeth a God who rewardeth him; the unfortunate\nvisionary wants a God who taketh part in his sorrows; the melancholy\ndevotee requireth a God who chastiseth him, who maintaineth him in that\ntrouble which has become necessary to his diseased organization; the\nfrantic penitent exacteth a God, who imposes upon him an obligation to\nbe inhuman towards himself; whilst the furious fanatic would believe\nhimself unhappy, if he was deprived of a God who commanded him to make\nothers experience the effect of his inflamed humours, of his unruly\npassions.\n\nHe is, without question, a less dangerous enthusiast who feeds himself\nwith agreeable illusions, than he whose soul is tormented with odious\nspectres. If a placid, tender soul, does not commit ravages in society,\na mind agitated by incommodious passions, cannot fall to become, sooner\nor later, troublesome to his fellow creatures. The God of a Socrates, or\na Fenelon, may be suitable to souls as gentle as theirs; but he cannot\nbe that of a whole nation, in which it is extremely rare men of their\ntemper are found: if honest men only view their gods as fitted with\nbenefits; vicious, restless, inflexible individuals, will give them\ntheir own peculiar character, from thence will authorize themselves to\nindulge, a free course to their passions. Each will view his deities\nwith eyes only open to his own reigning prejudice; the number of those\nwho will paint them as afflicting will always be greater, much more to\nbe feared, than those who shall delineate them under seducing colors:\nfor one mortal that those ideas will render happy, there will be\nthousands who will be made miserable; they will, sooner or later,\nbecome an inexhaustible source of contention; a never failing spring of\nextravagant folly; they will disturb the mind of the ignorant, over whom\nimpostors will always gain ascendancy--over whom fanatics will ever\nhave an influence: they will frighten the cowardly, terrify the\npussillanimous, whose imbecility will incline them to perfidy, whose\nweakness will render them cruel; they will cause the most upright to\ntremble, who, even while practising virtue, will fear incurring the\ndivine displeasure; but they will not arrest the progress of the wicked,\nwho will easily cast them aside, that they may the more commodiously\ndeliver themselves up to crime; or who will even take advantage of these\nprinciples, to justify their transgression. In short, in the hands\nof tyrants, these systems will only serve to crush the liberty of the\npeople; will be the pretext for violating, with impunity, all equitable\nrights. In the hands of priests they will become talismans, suitable\nto intoxicate the mind; calculated to hoodwink the people; competent\nto subjugate equally the sovereign as the subject; in the hands of the\nmultitude, they will be a two-edged sword, with which they will inflict,\nat the same moment, the most dreadful wounds on themselves--the most\nserious injuries on their associates.\n\nOn the other hand, these theological systems, as we have seen, being\nonly an heap of contradictions, which represent the Divinity under the\nmost incompatible characters, seem to doubt his wisdom, when they invite\nmortals to address their prayers to him, for the gratification of their\ndesires; to pray to him to grant that which he has not thought it\nproper to accord to them. Is it not, in other words, to accuse him with\nneglecting his creatures? Is it not to ask him to alter the eternal\ndecrees of his justice; to change the invariable laws which he hath\nhimself determined? Is it not to say to him, \"O, my God! I acknowledge\nthy wisdom, thine omniscience, thine infinite goodness; nevertheless,\nthou forgettest thy servant; thou losest sight of thy creature; thou\nart ignorant, or thou feignest ignorance, of that which he wanteth: dost\nthou not see that I suffer from the marvellous arrangement, which thy\nwise laws have made in the universe? Nature, against thy commands,\nactually renders my existence painful: change then, I beseech thee, the\nessence which thy will has given to all beings. Grant that the elements,\nat this moment, lose in my favor their distinguishing properties; so\norder it, that heavy bodies shall not fall, that fire shall not burn,\nthat the brittle frame which I have received at thine hands, shall not\nsuffer those shocks which it every instant experiences. Rectify, I pray\nthee, for my happiness, the plan which thine infinite prudence hath\nmarked out from all eternity.\" Such is very nearly the euchology\nwhich man adopts; such are the discordant, absurd requests which he\ncontinually puts up to the Divinity, whose wisdom he extols; whose\nintelligence he holds forth to admiration; whose providence he\neulogizes; whose equity he applauds; whilst he is hardly ever contented\nwith the effects of the divine perfections.\n\nMan is not more consequent in those thanksgivings which he believes\nhimself obliged to offer to the throne of grace. Is it not just, he\nexclaims, to thank the Divinity for his kindness? Would it not be\nthe height of ingratitude to refuse our homage to the Author of our\nexistence; to withhold our acknowledgements from the Giver of every\nthing that contributes to render it agreeable? But does he not\nfrequently offer up his thanksgivings for actions that overwhelm his\nneighbour with misery? Does not the husbandman on the hill, return\nthanks for the rain that irrigates his lands parched with drought,\nwhilst the cultivator of the valley is imploring a cessation of those\nshowers which deluge his fields--that render useless the labour of his\nhands? Thus each becomes thankful for that which his own limited views\npoints out to him as his immediate interest, regardless of the general\neffect produced by those circumstances on the welfare of his fellows.\nEach believes that it is either a peculiar dispensation of providence\nin his own favor, or a signal of the heavenly wrath directed against\nhimself; whilst the slightest reflection would clearly evince it to\nbe nothing more than the inevitable order of things, which take place\nwithout the least regard to his individual comforts. From this it will\nbe obvious, that these systems do not teach their votaries, practically,\nto love their neighbour as themselves. But in matters of superstition,\nmortals never reason; they only follow the impulse of their fears; the\ndirection of their imagination; the force of their temperament; the\nbent of their own peculiar passions; or those of the guides, who have\nacquired the right of controling their understanding. Fear has generally\ncreated these systems; terror unceasingly accompanies them; it is\nimpossible to reason while we tremble.\n\nWe do not, however, flatter ourselves that reason will be capable, all\nat once, to deliver the human race from those errors with which so\nmany causes united have contributed to poison him. The vainest of\nall projects would be the expectation of curing, in an instant, those\nepidemical follies, those hereditary fallacies, rooted during so many\nages; continually fed by ignorance; corroborated by custom; borne along\nby the passions made inveterate by interest; grounded upon the fears,\nestablished upon the ever regenerating calamities of nations. The\nancient disasters of the earth gave birth to the first systems of\ntheology, new revolutions would equally produce others; even if the\nold ones should chance to be forgotton. Ignorant, miserable, trembling\nbeings, will always either form to themselves systems, or else adopt\nthose which imposture shall announce--which fanaticism shall be disposed\nto give them.\n\nIt would therefore be useless to propose more than to hold out reason to\nthose who are competent to understand it; to present truth to those who\ncan sustain its lustre; who can with serenity contemplate its refulgent\nbeauty; to undeceive those who shall not be inclined to oppose obstacles\nto demonstration; to enlighten those who shall not desire pertinaciously\nto persist in error. Let us, then, infuse courage into those who want\npower to break with their illusions; let us cheer up the honest man, who\nis much more alarmed by his fears than the wicked, who, in despite of\nhis opinions, always follows the rule of his passions: let us console\nthe unfortunate, who groans under a load of prejudices which he has not\nexamined: let us dissipate the incertitude of those whose doubts\nrender them unhappy; who ingenuously seek after truth, but who find in\nphilosophy itself only wavering opinions little calculated to determine\ntheir fluctuating minds. Let us banish from the man of genius those\nchimerical speculations which cause him to waste his time; let us wrest\nhis gloomy superstition from the intimidated mortal, who, duped by\nhis vain fears, becomes useless to society; let us remove from the\natrabilarious being those systems that afflict him, that exasperate his\nmind, that do nothing more than kindle his anger against his incredulous\nneighbour; let us tear from the fanatic those terrible ideas which arm\nhim with poniards against the happiness of his fellows; let us pluck\nfrom tyrants, let us snatch from impostors, those opinions which enable\nthem to terrify, to enslave, and to despoil the human species. In\nremoving from honest men their formidable notions let us not encourage\nthose of the wicked, who are the enemies of society; let us deprive the\nlatter of those illegitimate sources, upon which they reckon to expiate\ntheir transgressions; let us substitute actual, present terrors, to\nthose which are distant and uncertain to those which do not arrest the\nmost licentious excesses; let us make the profligate blush at beholding\nthemselves what they really are; let the ministers of superstition\ntremble at finding their conspiracies discovered; let them dread the\narrival of the day, when mortals, cured of those errors with which they\nhave abused them, will no longer be enslaved by their artifice.\n\nIf we cannot induce nations to lay aside their inveterate prejudices,\nlet us, at least, endeavour to prevent them from relapsing into those\nexcesses, to the commission of which superstition has so frequently\nhurried them; let mankind form to himself chimeras, if he cannot do\nwithout them; let him think as he may feel inclined, provided his\nreveries do not make him forget that he is a man; that he does not cease\nto remember that a sociable being is not formed to resemble the most\nferocious animals. Let us try to balance the fictitious interests\nof superstition, by the more immediate advantages of the earth. Let\nsovereigns, as well as their subjects, at length acknowledge that the\nbenefits resulting from truth, the happiness arising from justice,\nthe tranquillity springing out of wholesome laws, the blessings to be\nderived from a rational education, the superiority to be obtained from a\nphysical, peaceable morality, are much more substantive than those they\nvainly expect from their respective superstitious systems, Let them\nfeel, that advantages so tangible, benefits so precious, ought not to be\nsacrificed to uncertain hopes, so frequently contradicted by experience.\nIn order to convince themselves of these truths, let every rational man\nconsider the numberless crimes which superstition has caused upon our\nglobe; let them study the frightful history of theology: let them read\nover the biography of its more odious ministers, who have too often\nfanned the spirit of discord--kindled the flame of fury--stirred up\nthe raging fire of madness: let the prince and the people, at least,\nsometimes learn to resist the demoniacal passions of these interpreters\nof unintelligible systems, which they acknowledge they do not themselves\nat all understand, especially when they shall invoke them to be\ninhuman; when they shall preach up intolerance; when they invite them to\nbarbarity; above all, when they shall command them, in the name of their\ngods, to stifle the cries of nature; to put down the voice of equity; to\nbe deaf to the remonstrances of reason; to be blind to the interest of\nsociety.\n\nFeeble mortals! led astray by error, how long will ye permit your\nimagination, so active, so prompt to seize on the marvellous, to\ncontinue to seek out of the universe pretexts to render you baneful\nto yourselves, injurious to the beings with whom ye live in society?\nWherefore do ye not follow in peace, the simple, easy route marked out\nfor ye by nature? To what purpose do ye scatter thorns on the road\nof life? What avails it, that ye multiply those sorrows to which your\ndestiny exposes ye? What advantages can ye derive from systems with\nwhich the united efforts of the whole human species have not been\ncompetent to bring ye acquainted? Be content, then, to remain ignorant\nof that, which the human mind is not formed to comprehend; which human\nintellect is not adequate to embrace: occupy yourselves with truth;\nlearn the invaluable art of living happy; perfection your morals; give\nrationality to your governments; simplify your laws, and rest them on\nthe pillars of justice; watch over education, and see that it is of\nan invigorating quality; give attention to agriculture, and encourage\nbeneficial improvements; foster those sciences which are actually\nuseful, and place their professors in the most honorable stations; labor\nwith ardour, and munificently reward those whose assiduity promotes\nthe general welfare; oblige nature by your industry to open her immense\nstores, to become propitious to your exertions; do these things, and the\ngods will oppose nothing to your felicity. Leave to idle thinkers, to\nsoporific dreamers, to waking visionaries, to useless enthusiasts, the\nunproductive task, the unfruitful occupation, of fathoming depths,\nfrom which ye ought sedulously to divert your attention; enjoy with\nmoderation, the benefits attached to your present existence; augment\ntheir number when reason sanctions the multiplication; but never attempt\nto spring yourselves forward, beyond the sphere destined for your\naction. If you must have chimeras, permit your fellow creatures to have\ntheirs also; but never cut the throats of your brethren, when, they\ncannot rave in your own manner. If ye will have unintelligible\nsystems, if ye cannot be contented without marvellous doctrines, if the\ninfirmities of your nature require an invisible crutch, adopt such as\nmay best suit with your humour; select those which you may think most\ncalculated to support your tottering frame; if ye can, let your own\nimagination give birth to them; but do not insist on your neighbours\nmaking the same choice with yourself: do not suffer these imaginary\ntheories to infuriate your mind: let them not so far intoxicate your\nunderstandings, as to make ye mistake the duties ye owe to the real\nbeings with whom ye are associated. Always remember, that amongst these\nduties, the foremost, the most consequential, the most immediate in\nits bearing upon the felicity of the human race, stands, _a reasonable\nindulgence for the foibles of others_.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XI.\n\n_Defence of the Sentiments contained in this Work.--Of Impiety.--Do\nthere exist Atheists?_\n\n\nWhat has been said in the course of this work, ought sufficiently to\nundeceive those who are capable of reasoning on the prejudices to which\nthey attached so much importance. But the most evident truths frequently\ncrouch under fear; are kept at bay by habit; prove abortive against\nthe force of enthusiasm. Nothing is more difficult to remove from its\nresting place than error, especially when long prescription has given\nit full possession of the human mind. It is almost unassailable when\nsupported by general consent; when it is propagated by education; when\nit has acquired inveteracy by custom: it commonly resists every effort\nto disturb it, when it is either fortified by example, maintained\nby authority, nourished by the hopes, or cherished by the fears of a\npeople, who have learned to look upon these delusions as the most potent\nremedies for their sorrows. Such are the united forces which sustain\nthe empire of unintelligible systems over the inhabitants of this world;\nthey appear to give stability to their throne; to render their power\nimmoveable; to make their reign as lasting as the human race.\n\nWe need not, then, be surprised at seeing the multitude cherish their\nown blindness; encourage their superstitious notions; exhibit the most\nsensitive fear of truth. Every where we behold mortals obstinately\nattached to phantoms from which they expect their happiness;\nnotwithstanding these fallacies are evidently the source of all their\nsorrows. Deeply smitten with the marvellous, disdaining the simple,\ndespising that which is easy of comprehension, but little instructed in\nthe ways of nature, accustomed to neglect the use of their reason, the\nuninformed, from age to age, prostrate themselves before those invisible\npowers which they have been taught to adore. To these they address their\nmost fervent prayers; implore them in their misfortunes, offer them\nthe fruits of their labour; they are unceasingly occupied either with\nthanking their vain idols for benefits they have not received at their\nbands, or else in requesting from them favors which they can never\nobtain. Neither experience nor reflection can undeceive them; they do\nnot perceive these idols, the work of their own hands, have always been\ndeaf to their intreaties; they ascribe it to their own conduct; believe\nthem to be violently irritated: they tremble, groan out the most dismal\nlamentations; sigh bitterly in their temples; strew their altars with\npresents; load their priests with their largesses; it never strikes\ntheir attention that these beings, whom they imagine so powerful, are\nthemselves submitted to nature; are never propitious to their wishes,\nbut when nature herself is favourable. It is thus that nations are the\naccomplices of those who deceive them; are themselves as much opposed to\ntruth as those who lead them astray.\n\nIn matters of superstition, there are very few persons who do not\npartake, more or less, of the opinions of the illiterate. Every man who\nthrows aside the received ideas, is generally considered a madman; is\nlooked upon as a presumptuous being, who insolently believes himself\nmuch wiser than his associates. At the magical sound of superstition, a\nsudden panic, a tremulous terror takes possession of the human species:\nwhenever it is attacked, society is alarmed; each individual imagines\nhe already sees the celestial monarch lift his avenging arm against\nthe country in which rebellious nature has produced a monster with\nsufficient temerity to brave these sacred opinions. Even the most\nmoderate persons tax with folly, brand with sedition, whoever dares\ncombat with these imaginary systems, the rights of which good sense has\nnever yet examined. In consequence, the man who undertakes to tear the\nbandeau of prejudice, appears an irrational being--a dangerous citizen;\nhis sentence is pronounced with a voice almost unanimous; the public\nindignation, roused by fanaticism, stirred up by imposture, renders\nit impossible for him to be heard in his defence; every one believes\nhimself culpable, if he does not exhibit his fury against him; if he\ndoes not display his zeal in hunting him down; it is by such means man\nseeks to gain the favor of the angry gods, whose wrath is supposed to be\nprovoked. Thus the individual who consults his reason, the disciple of\nnature, is looked upon as a public pest; the enemy to superstition\nis regarded as the enemy to the human race; he who would establish a\nlasting peace amongst men, is treated as the disturber of society; the\nman who would be disposed to cheer affrighted mortals by breaking those\nidols, before whom prejudice has obliged them to tremble, is unanimously\nproscribed as an atheist. At the bare name of atheist the superstitious\nman quakes; the deist himself is alarmed; the priest enters the\njudgement chair with fury glaring in his eyes; tyranny prepares his\nfuneral pile, the vulgar applaud the punishments which irrational,\npartial laws, decree against the true friend of the human species.\n\nSuch are the sentiments which every man must expect to excite, who shall\ndare to present his fellow creatures with that truth which all appear to\nbe in search of, but which all either fear to find, or else mistake\nwhat we are disposed to shew it to them. But what is this man, who is\nso foully calumniated as an atheist? He is one who destroyeth chimeras\nprejudicial to the human race; who endeavours to re-conduct wandering\nmortals back to nature; who is desirous to place them upon the road\nof experience; who is anxious that they should actively employ their\nreason. He is a thinker, who, having meditated upon matter, its\nenergies, its properties, its modes of acting, hath no occasion to\ninvent ideal powers, to recur to imaginary systems, in order to explain\nthe phenomena of the universe--to develope the operations of nature; who\nneeds not creatures of the imagination, which far from making him better\nunderstand nature, do no more than render it wholly inexplicable, an\nunintelligible mass, useless to the happiness of mankind.\n\nThus, the only men who can have pure, simple, actual ideas of nature,\nare considered either as absurd or knavish speculators. Those who\nform to themselves distinct, intelligible notions of the powers of the\nuniverse, are accused of denying the existence of this power: those\nwho found every thing that is operated in this world, upon determinate,\nimmutable laws, are accused with attributing every thing to chance; are\ntaxed with blindness, branded with delirium, by those very enthusiasts\nthemselves, whose imagination, always wandering in a vacuum, regularly\nattribute the effects of nature to fictitious causes, which have no\nexistence but in their own heated brain; to fanciful beings of their\nown creation; to chimerical powers, which they obstinately persist in\npreferring to actual, demonstrable causes. No man in his proper senses\ncan deny the energy of nature, or the existence of a power by virtue of\nwhich matter acts; by which it puts itself in motion; but no man can,\nwithout renouncing his reason, attribute this power to an immaterial\nsubstance; to a power placed out of nature; distinguished from matter;\nhaving nothing in common with it. Is it not saying, this power does not\nexist, to pretend that it resides in an unknown being, formed by an heap\nof unintelligible qualities, of incompatible attributes, from\nwhence necessarily results a whole, impossible to have existence?\nIndestructible elements, the atoms of Epicurus, of which it is said the\nmotion, the collision, the combination, have produced all beings,\nare, unquestionably, much more tangible than the numerous theological\nsystems, broached in various parts of the earth. Thus, to speak\nprecisely, they are the partizans of imaginary theories, the advocates\nof contradictory beings, the defenders of creeds, impossible to be\nconceived, the contrivers of substances which the human mind\ncannot embrace on any side, who are either absurd or knavish; those\nenthusiasts, who offer us nothing but vague names, of which every thing\nis denied, of which nothing is affirmed, are the real _Atheists_; those,\nI say, who make such beings the authors of motion, the preservers of the\nuniverse, are either blind or irrational. Are not those dreamers, who\nare incapable of attaching any one positive idea to the causes of which\nthey unceasingly speak, true deniers? Are not those visionaries, who\nmake a pure nothing the source of all beings, men really groping in\nthe dark? Is it not the height of folly to personify abstractions, to\norganize negative ideas, and then to prostrate ourselves before the\nfigments of our own brain?\n\nNevertheless, they are men of this temper who regulate the opinions\nof the world; who hold up to public scorn, those who are consistent to\nprinciple; who expose to the most infuriate vengeance, those who are\nmore rational than themselves. If you will but accredit those profound\ndreamers, there is nothing short of madness, nothing on this side\nthe most complete derangement of intellect, that can reject a totally\nincomprehensible motive-power in nature. Is it, then, delirium to prefer\nthe known to the unknown? Is it a crime to consult experience, to call\nin the evidence of our senses, in the examination of that which we are\ninformed is the most important to be understood? Is it a horrid outrage\nto address ourselves to reason; to prefer its oracles to the sublime\ndecisions of some sophists, who themselves acknowledge they do not\ncomprehend any thing of the systems they announce? Nevertheless,\naccording to these men, there is no crime more worthy of\npunishment--there is no enterprize more dangerous to morals--no treason\nmore substantive against society, than to despoil these immaterial\nsubstances, which they know nothing about, of those inconceivable\nqualities which these learned doctors ascribe to them--of that equipage\nwith which a fanatical imagination has furnished them--of those\nmiraculous properties with which ignorance, fear, and imposture have\nemulated each other in surrounding them: there is nothing more impious\nthan to call forth man's reason upon superstitious creeds; nothing more\nheretical than to cheer up mortals against systems, of which the idea\nalone is the source of all their sorrows; there is nothing more pious,\nnothing more orthodox, than to exterminate those audacious beings who\nhave had sufficient temerity to attempt to break an invisible charm that\nkeeps the human species benumbed in error: if we are to put faith in the\nasseverations of the hierarchy, to be disposed to break man's chains is\nto rend asunder his most sacred bonds.\n\nIn consequence of these clamours, perpetually renovated by the disciples\nof imposture, kept constantly afloat by the theologians, reiterated\nby ignorance, those nations, which reason, in all ages, has sought to\nundeceive, have never dared to hearken to its benevolent lessons: they\nhave stood aghast at the very name of physical truth. The friends of\nmankind were never listened to, because they were the enemies to his\nsuperstition--the examiners of the doctrines of his priest. Thus the\npeople continued to tremble; very few philosophers had the courage to\ncheer them; scarcely any one dared brave public opinion; completely\ninoculated by superstition, they dreaded the power of imposture,\nthe menaces of tyranny, which always sought to uphold themselves\nby delusion. The yell of triumphant ignorance, the rant of haughty\nfanaticism, at all time stifled the feeble voice of the disciple of\nnature; his lessons were quickly forgotten; he was obliged to keep\nsilence; when he even dared to speak, it was frequently only in an\nenigmatical language, perfectly unintelligible to the great mass of\nmankind. How should the uninformed, who with difficulty compass the most\nevident truths, those that are the most distinctly announced, be able to\ncomprehend the mysteries of nature, presented under half words, couched\nunder intricate emblems.\n\nIn contemplating the outrageous language which is excited among\ntheologians, by the opinions of those whom they choose to call atheists;\nin looking at the punishments which at their instigation were frequently\ndecreed against them, should we not be authorized to conclude, that\nthese doctors either are not so certain as they say they are, of the\ninfallibility of their respective systems; or else that they do not\nconsider the opinions of their adversaries so absurd as they pretend?\nIt is always either distrust, weakness, or fear, frequently the whole\nunited, that render men cruel; they have no anger against those whom\nthey despise; they do not look upon folly as a punishable crime. We\nshould be content with laughing at an irrational mortal, who should deny\nthe existence of the sun; we should not think of punishing him, unless\nwe had, ourselves, taken leave of our senses. Theological fury never\nproves more than the imbecility of its cause. Lucian describes Jupiter,\nwho disputing with Menippus, is disposed to strike him to the earth with\nhis thunder; upon which the philosopher says to him, \"Ah! thou vexest\nthyself, thou usest thy thunder! then thou art in the wrong.\" The\ninhumanity of these men-monsters, whose profession it was to announce\nchimerical systems to nations, incontestibly proves, that they alone\nhave an interest in the invisible powers they describe; of which they\nsuccessfully avail themselves to terrify, mortals: they are these\ntyrants of the mind, however, who, but little consequent to their own\nprinciples, undo with one hand that which they rear up with the other:\nthey are these profound logicians who, after having formed a deity\nfilled with goodness, wisdom and equity, traduce, disgrace, and\ncompletely annihilate him, by saving he is cruel, capricious, unjust,\nand despotic: this granted, these men are truly impious; decidedly\nheretical.\n\nHe who knoweth not this system, cannot do it any injury, consequently\ncannot be called impious. \"To be impious,\" says Epicurus, \"is not\nto take away from the illiterate the gods which they have; it is to\nattribute to these gods the opinions of the vulgar.\" To be impious is to\ninsult systems which we believe; it is knowingly to outrage them. To be\nimpious, is to admit a benevolent, just God, at the same time we preach\nup persecution and carnage. To be impious, is to deceive men in the\nname of a Deity, whom we make use of as a pretext for our own unworthy\npassions. To be impious, is to speak falsely on the part of a God, whom\nwe suppose to be the enemy of falsehood. In fine, to be impious, is to\nmake use of the name of the Divinity in order to disturb society--to\nenslave it to tyrants--to persuade man that the cause of imposture\nis the cause of God; it is to impute to God those crimes which would\nannihilate his divine perfections. To be impious, and irrational, at\nthe same time, is to make, by the aggregation of discrepant qualities, a\nmere chimera of the God we adore.\n\nOn the other hand, to be pious, is to serve our country with fidelity;\nit is to be useful to our fellow creatures; to labour to the welfare of\nsociety. Every one can put in his claim to this piety, according to his\nfaculties; he who meditates can render himself useful, when he has the\ncourage to announce truth--to attack error--to battle those prejudices\nwhich everywhere oppose themselves to the happiness of mankind; it is to\nbe truly useful, it is even a duty, to wrest from the hands of mortals\nthose homicidal weapons which wretched fanatics so profusely distribute\namong them; it is highly praiseworthy to deprive imposture of its\ninfluence; it is loving our neighbour as ourself to despoil tyranny of\nits fatal empire over opinion, which at all times it so successfully\nemploys to elevate knaves at the expence of public happiness; to erect\nits power upon the ruins of liberty; to establish unruly passions upon\nthe wreck of public security. To be truly pious, is religiously to\nobserve the wholesome laws of nature; to follow up faithfully those\nduties which she prescribes to us; in short, to be pious is to be\nhumane, equitable, benevolent: it is to respect the rights of mankind.\nTo be pious and rational at the same time, is to reject those reveries\nwhich would be competent to make us mistake the sober counsels of\nreason.\n\nThus, whatever fanaticism, whatever imposture may say, he who denieth\nthe solidity of systems which have no other foundation than an alarmed\nimagination; he who rejecteth creeds continually in contradiction with\nthemselves; he who banisheth from his heart, doctrines perpetually\nwrestling with nature, always in hostility with reason, ever at war\nwith the happiness of man; he, I repeat, who undeceiveth himself on\nsuch dangerous chimeras, when his conduct shall not deviate from those\ninvariable rules which sound morality dictates, which nature approves,\nwhich reason prescribes, may be fairly reputed pious, honest, and\nvirtuous. Because a man refuseth to admit contradictory systems, as well\nas the obscure oracles, which are issued in the name of the gods, does\nit then follow, that such a man refuses to acknowledge the evident,\nthe demonstrable laws of nature, upon which he depends, of which he in\nobliged to fulfil the necessary duties, under pain of being punished in\nthis world; whatever he may be in the in the next? It is true, that if\nvirtue could by any chance consist in an ignominious renunciation of\nreason, in a destructive fanaticism, in useless customs, the atheist,\nas he is called, could not pass for a virtuous being: but if virtue\nactually consists in doing to society all the good of which we are\ncapable, this miscalled atheist may fairly lay claim to its practice:\nhis courageous, tender soul, will not be found guilty, for hurling his\nlegitimate indignation against prejudices, fatal to the happiness of the\nhuman species.\n\nLet us listen, however, to the imputations which the theologians lay\nupon those men they falsely denominate atheists; let us coolly, without\nany peevish humour, examine the calumnies which they vomit forth against\nthem: it appears to them that atheism, (as they call differing in\nopinion from themselves,) is the highest degree of delirium that can\nassail the human mind; the greatest stretch of perversity that can\ninfect the human heart; interested in blackening their adversaries, they\nmake incredulity the undeniable offspring of folly; the absolute effect\nof crime. \"We do not,\" say they to us, \"see those men fall into the\nhorrors of atheism, who have reason to hope the future state will be for\nthem a state of happiness.\" In short, according to these metaphysical\ndoctors, it is the interest of their passions which makes them seek to\ndoubt systems, at whose tribunals they are accountable for the abuses\nof this life; it is the fear of punishment which is alone known to\natheists; they are unceasingly repeating the words of a Hebrew prophet,\nwho pretends that nothing but folly makes men deny these systems;\nperhaps, however, if he had suppressed his negation, he would have\nmore closely aproximated the truth. Doctor Bentley, in his _Folly of\nAtheism_, has let loose the whole Billingsgate of theological spleen,\nwhich he has scattered about with all the venom of the most filthy\nreptiles: if he and other expounders are to be believed, \"nothing is\nblacker than the heart of an atheist; nothing is more false than his\nmind. Atheism,\" according to them, \"can only be the offspring of a\ntortured conscience, that seeks to disengage itself from the cause of\nits trouble. We have a right\", says Derham, \"to look upon an atheist\nas a monster among rational beings; as one of those extraordinary\nproductions which we hardly ever meet with in the whole human species;\nand who, opposing himself to all other men, revolts not only against\nreason and human nature, but against the Divinity himself.\"\n\nWe shall simply reply to all these calumnies by saying, it is for the\nreader to judge if the system which these men call atheism, be as absurd\nas these profound speculators (who are perpetually in dispute on the\nuninformed, ill organized, contradictory, whimsical productions of their\nown brain) would have it believed to be! It is true, perhaps, that the\nsystem of naturalism hitherto has not been developed in all its extent:\nunprejudiced persons however, will, at least, be enabled to know whether\nthe author has reasoned well or ill; whether or not he has attempted to\ndisguise the most important difficulties; distinctly to see if he has\nbeen disingenuous; they will be competent to observe if, like unto the\nenemies of human reason, he has recourse to subterfuges, to sophisms, to\nsubtle discriminations, which ought always to make it suspected of those\nwho use them, either that they do not understand or else that they\nfear the truth. It belongs then to candour, it is the province of\ndisinterestedness, it is the duty of reason to judge, if the natural\nprinciples which have been here ushered to the world be destitute of\nfoundation; it is to these upright jurisconsults that a disciple of\nnature submits his opinions: he has a right to except against the\njudgment of enthusiasm; he has the prescription to enter his caveat\nagainst the decision of presumptuous ignorance; above all, he is\nentitled to challenge the verdict of interested knavery. Those persons\nwho are accustomed to think, will, at least find reasons to doubt many\nof those marvellous notions, which appear as incontestable truths only\nto those, who have never assayed them by the standard of good sense.\n\nWe agree with Derham, that atheists are rare; but then we also say,\nthat superstition has so disfigured nature, so entangled her\nrights--enthusiasm has so dazzled the human mind-terror has so disturbed\nthe heart of man--imposture has so bewildered his imagination--tyranny\nhas so enslaved his thoughts: in fine, error, ignorance, and delirium\nhave so perplexed and confused the clearest ideas, that nothing is\nmore uncommon than to find men who have sufficient courage to undeceive\nthemselves on notions which every thing conspires to identify with their\nvery existence. Indeed, many theologians in despite of those bitter\ninvectives with which they attempt to overwhelm the men they choose\nto call atheists, appear frequently to have doubted whether any ever\nexisted in the world. Tertullian, who, according to modern systems,\nwould be ranked as an atheist, because he admitted a corporeal God,\nsays, \"Christianity has dissipated the ignorance in which the Pagans\nwere immersed respecting the divine essence, and there is not an artizan\namong the Christians who does not see God, and who does not know him.\"\nThis uncertainty of the theologic professors was, unquestionably,\nfounded upon those absurd ideas, which they ascribe to their\nadversaries, whom they have unceasingly accused with attributing every\nthing to chance--to blind causes--to dead, inert matter, incapable of\nself-action. We have, I think, sufficiently justified the partizans\nof nature against these ridiculous accusations; we have throughout the\nwhole proved, and we repeat it, that chance is a word devoid of sense,\nwhich as well as all other unintelligible words, announces nothing but\nignorance of actual causes. We have demonstrated that matter is not\ndead; that nature, essentially active and self-existent, has sufficient\nenergy to produce all the beings which she contains--all the phenomena\nwe behold. We have, throughout, made it evident that this cause is much\nmore tangible, more easy of comprehension, than the inconceivable theory\nto which theology assigns these stupendous effects. We have represented,\nthat the incomprehensibility of natural effects was not a sufficient\nreason for assigning to them a system still more incomprehensible than\nany of those of which, at least, we have a slight knowledge. In fine, if\nthe incomprehensibility of a system does not authorize the denial of\nits existence, it is at least certain that the incompatibility of the\nattributes with which it is clothed, authorizes the assertion, that\nthose which unite them cannot be any thing more than chimeras, of which\nthe existence is impossible.\n\nThis granted, we shall be competent to fix the sense that ought to be\nattached to the name of atheist; which, notwithstanding, the theologians\nlavish on all those who deviate in any thing from their opinions. If,\nby atheist, be designated a man who denieth the existence of a power\ninherent in matter, without which we cannot conceive nature, and if it\nbe to this power that the name of God is given, then there do not exist\nany atheists, and the word under which they are denominated would only\nannounce fools. But if by atheists be understood men without enthusiasm;\nwho are guided by experience; who follow the evidence of their senses;\nwho see nothing in nature but what they actually find to have existence,\nor that which they are capacitated to know; who neither do, nor can\nperceive any thing but matter essentially active, moveable, diversely\ncombined, in the full enjoyment of various properties, capable of\nproducing all the beings who display themselves to our visual faculties,\nif by atheists be understood natural philosophers, who are convinced\nthat without recurring to chimerical causes, they can explain every\nthing, simply by the laws of motion; by the relation subsisting between\nbeings; by their affinities; by their analogies; by their aptitude to\nattraction; by their repulsive powers; by their proportions; by their\ncombinations; by their decomposition: if by atheists be meant these\npersons who do not understand what _Pneumatology_ is, who do\nnot perceive the necessity of spiritualizing, or of rendering\nincomprehensible, those corporeal, sensible, natural causes, which\nthey see act uniformly; who do not find it requisite to separate the\nmotive-power from the universe; who do not see, that to ascribe\nthis power to an immaterial substance, to that whose essence is from\nthenceforth totally inconceivable, is a means of becoming more familiar\nwith it: if by atheists are to be pourtrayed those men who ingenuously\nadmit that their mind can neither receive nor reconcile the union of the\nnegative attributes and the theological abstractions, with the human\nand moral qualities which are given to the Divinity; or those men who\npretend that from such an incompatible alliance, there could only result\nan imaginary being; seeing that a pure spirit is destitute of the organs\nnecessary to exercise the qualities, to give play to the faculties of\nhuman nature: if by atheists are described those men who reject systems,\nwhose odious and discrepant qualities are solely calculated to disturb\nthe human species--to plunge it into very prejudicial follies: if,\nI repeat it, thinkers of this description are those who are called\natheists, it is not possible to doubt their existence; and their number\nwould be considerable, if the light of sound natural philosophy was more\ngenerally diffused; if the torch of reason burnt more distinctly; or\nif it was not obscured by the theological bushel: from thence, however,\nthey would be considered neither as irrational; nor as furious beings,\nbut as men devoid of prejudice, of whose opinions, or if they prefer it,\nwhose ignorance, would be much more useful to the human race, than those\nideal sciences, those vain hypotheses, which for so many ages have been\nthe actual causes of all man's tribulation.\n\nDoctor Cudworth, in his _Intellectual System_, reckons four species of\natheists among the ancients.\n\nFirst.--The disciples of Anaximander, called _Hylopathians_, who\nattributed every thing to matter destitute of feeling. His doctrine was,\nthat men were born of earth united with water, and vivified by the\nbeams of the sun; his crime seems to have been, that he made the first\ngeographical maps and sun-dials; declared the earth moveable and of a\ncylindrical form.\n\nSecondly.--The _Atomists_, or the disciples of Democritus, who attribute\nevery thing, to the concurrence of atoms. His crime was, having first\ntaught that the milky way was occasioned by the confused light from a\nmultitude of stars.\n\nThirdly.--The _Stoics_, or the disciples of Zeno, who admitted a blind\nnature acting after certain laws. His crime appears to be, that he\npractised virtue with unwearied perseverance, and taught that this\nquality alone would render mankind happy.\n\nFourthly.--The _Hylozoists_, or the disciples of Strato, who attributed\nlife to matter. His crime consisted in being one of the most acute\nnatural philosophers of his day, enjoying high favour with Ptolemy\nPhiladelphus, an intelligent prince, whose preceptor be was.\n\nIf, however, by atheists, are meant those men, who are obliged to avow,\nthat they have not one idea of the system they adore, or which they\nannounce to others; who cannot give any satisfactory account, either\nof the nature or of the essence of their immaterial substances; who\ncan never agree amongst themselves on the proofs which they adduce in\nsupport of their System; on the qualities or on the modes of action\nof their incorporeities, which by dint of negations they render a mere\nnothing; who either prostrate themselves, or cause others to bow\ndown, before the absurd fictions of their own delirium: if, I say,\nby atheists, be denominated men of this stamp, we shall be under the\nnecessity of allowing, that the world is filled with them: we shall even\nbe obliged to place in this number some of the most active theologians,\nwho are unceasingly reasoning upon that Which they do not understand;\nwho are eternally disputing upon points which they cannot demonstrate;\nwho by their contradictions very efficaciously undermine their own\nsystems; who annihilate all their own assertions of perfection, by the\nnumberless imperfections with which they clothe them; who rebel against\ntheir gods by the atrocious character under which they depict them. In\nshort, we shall be able to consider as true atheists, those credulous,\nweak persons, who upon hearsay and from tradition, bend the knee before\nidols, of whom they have no other ideas, than those which are furnished\nthem by their spiritual guides, who themselves acknowledge that they\ncomprehend nothing about the matter.\n\nWhat has been said amply proves that the theologians themselves have not\nalways known the sense they could affix to the word atheist; they have\nvaguely attacked, in an indistinct manner, calumniated with it, those\npersons whose sentiments and principles were opposed to their own.\nIndeed, we find that these sublime professors, always infatuated with\ntheir own particular opinions, have frequently been extremely lavish in\ntheir accusations of atheism, against all those whom they felt a\ndesire to injure; whose characters it was their pleasure to paint in\nunfavourable colours; whose doctrines they wished to blacken; whose\nsystems they sought to render odious: they were certain of alarming\nthe illiterate, of rousing the antipathies of the silly, by a loose\nimputation, or by a word, to which ignorance attaches the idea of\nhorror, merely because it is unacquainted with its true sense. In\nconsequence of this policy, it has been no uncommon spectacle to see the\npartizans of the same sect, the adorers of the same gods, reciprocally\ntreat each other as atheists, in the fervour of their theological\nquarrels; to be an atheist, in this sense, is not to have, in every\npoint, exactly the same opinions as those with whom we dispute, either\non superstitious or religious subjects. In all times the uninformed\nhave considered those as atheists, who did not think upon the Divinity\nprecisely in the same manner as the guides whom they were accustomed\nto follow. Socrates, the adorer of a unique God, was no more than an\natheist in the eyes of the Athenian people.\n\nStill more, as we have already observed, those persons have frequently\nbeen accused of atheism, who have taken the greatest pains to establish\nthe existence of the gods, but who have not produced satisfactory\nproofs: when their enemies wished to take advantage of them, it was easy\nto make them pass for atheists, who had wickedly betrayed their cause,\nby defending it too feebly. The theologians have frequently been very\nhighly incensed against those who believed they had discovered the most\nforcible proof of the existence of their gods, because they were obliged\nto discover that their adversaries could make very contrary inductions\nfrom their propositions; they did not perceive that it was next to\nimpossible not to lay themselves open to attack, in establishing\nprinciples visibly founded upon that which each man sees variously.\nThus Paschal says, \"I have examined if this God, of whom all the world\nspeaks, might not have left some marks of himself. I look every where,\nand every where I see nothing but obscurity. Nature offers one nothing,\nthat may not be a matter of doubt and inquietude. If I saw nothing in\nnature which indicated a Divinity, I should determine with myself, to\nbelieve nothing about it. If every where I saw the sign of a creator, I\nshould repose myself in peace, in the belief of one. But seeing too\nmuch to deny, and too little to assure me of his existence, I am in a\nsituation that I lament, and in which I have an hundred times wished,\nthat if a God doth sustain nature, he would give unequivocal marks of\nit, and that if the signs which he hath given be deceitful, that he\nwould suppress them entirely; that he said all or nothing, to the end\nthat I might see which side I ought to follow.\"\n\nIn a word, those who have most vigorously taken up the cause of the\ntheological systems, have been taxed with atheism and irreligion; the\nmost zealous partizans have been looked upon as deserters, have been\ncontemplated as traitors; the most orthodox theologians have not been\nable to guarantee themselves from this reproach; they have mutually\nbespatered each other; prodigally lavished, with malignant reciprocity,\nthe most abusive terms: nearly all have, without doubt, merited these\ninvectives, if in the term atheist be included those men who have\nnot any idea of their various systems, that does not destroy itself,\nwhenever they are willing to submit it to the touchstone of reason. From\nwhence we may conclude, without subjecting ourselves to the reproach of\nbeing hasty, that error will not stand the test of investigation; that\nit will not pass the ordeal of comparison; that it is in its hues a\nperfect chamelion; that consequently it can never do more than lead to\nthe most absurd deductions: that the most ingenious systems, when they\nhave their foundations in hallucination, crumble like dust under the\nrude band of the assayer; that the most sublimated doctrines, when they\nlack the substantive quality of rectitude, evaporate under the scrutiny\nof the sturdy examiner, who tries them in the crucible; that it is\nnot by levelling abusive language against those who investigate\nsophisticated theories, they will either be purged of their absurdities,\nacquire solidity, or find an establishment to give them perpetuity; that\nmoral obliquities, can never be made rectilinear by the mere application\nof unintelligible terms, or by the inconsiderate jumble of discrepant\nproperties, however gaudy the assemblage: in short, that the only\ncriterion of truth is, _that it is ever consistent with itself_.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XII.\n\n_Is what is termed Atheism compatible with Morality?_\n\n\nAfter having proved the existence of those whom the superstitious bigot,\nthe heated theologian, the inconsequent theist, calls _atheists_, let us\nreturn to the calumnies which are so profusely showered upon them by\nthe deicolists. According to Abady, in his _Treatise on the Truth of the\nChristian Religion_, \"an atheist cannot be virtuous: to him virtue is\nonly a chimera; probity no more than a vain scruple; honesty nothing\nbut foolishness;--he knoweth no other law than his interest: where this\nsentiment prevails, conscience is only a prejudice; the law of nature\nonly an illusion; right no more than an error; benevolence hath no\nlonger any foundation; the bonds of society are loosened; the ties of\nfidelity are removed; friend is ready to betray friend; the citizen to\ndeliver up his country; the son to assassinate his father, in order\nto enjoy his inheritance, whenever they shall find occasion, and that\nauthority or silence shall shield them from the arm of the secular\npower, which alone is to be feared. The most inviolable rights, and\nmost sacred laws, must no longer be considered, except as dreams\nand visions.\" Such, perhaps, would be the conduct, not of a feeling,\nthinking, reflecting being, susceptible of reason; but of a ferocious\nbrute, of an irrational wretch, who should not have any idea of the\nnatural relations which subsist between beings, reciprocally necessary\nto each other's happiness. Can it actually be supposed, that a man\ncapable of experience, furnished with the faintest glimmerings of sound\nsense, would lend himself to the conduct which is here ascribed to the\natheist; that is to say, to a man who is conversant with the evidence of\nfacts; who ardently seeks after truth; who is sufficiently susceptible\nof reflection, to undeceive himself by reasoning upon those prejudices\nwhich every one strives to shew him as important; which all voices\nendeavour to announce to him as sacred? Can it, I repeat, be supposed,\nthat any enlightened, any polished society, contains a citizen so\ncompletely blind, not to acknowledge his most natural duties; so very\nabsurd, not to admit his dearest interests; so completely besotted not\nto perceive the danger he incurs in incessantly disturbing his fellow\ncreatures; or in following no other rule, than his momentary appetites?\nIs not every human being who reasons in the least possible manner,\nobliged to feel that society is advantageous to him; that he hath need\nof assistance; that the esteem of his fellows is necessary to his own\nindividual happiness; provoked, that he has every thing to fear from\nthe wrath of his associates; that the laws menace whoever shall dare to\ninfringe them? Every man who has received a virtuous education, who\nhas in his infancy experienced the tender cares of a parent; who has in\nconsequence tasted the sweets of friendship; who has received kindness;\nwho knows the worth of benevolence; who sets a just value upon equity;\nwho feels the pleasure which the affection of our fellow creatures\nprocures for us; who endures the inconveniences which result from their\naversion who smarts under the sting which is inflicted by their\nscorn, is obliged to tremble at losing, by his measures, such manifest\nadvantages--at incurring such, imminent danger. Will not the hatred of\nothers, the fear of punishment, his own contempt of himself, disturb his\nrepose every time that, turning, inwardly upon his own conduct, he shall\ncontemplate it under the same perspective as does his neighbour? Is\nthere then no remorse but for those who believe in incomprehensible\nsystems? Is the idea that we are tinder the eye of beings of whom we\nhave but vague notions, more forcible than the thought that we are\nviewed by our fellow men; than the fear of being detected by ourselves;\nthan the dread of exposure; than the cruel necessity of becoming\ndespicable in our own eyes; than the wretched alternative, to be\nconstrained to blush guiltily, when we reflect on our wild career, and\nthe sentiments which it must infallibly inspire?\n\nThis granted, we shall reply deliberately to this Abady, that an atheist\nis a man who understands nature, who studies her laws; who knows his own\nnature; who feels what it imposes upon him. An atheist hath experience;\nthis experience proves to him every moment that vice can injure him;\nthat his most concealed faults, his most secret dispositions, may be\ndetected--may display his character in open day; this experience proves\nto him that society is useful to his happiness; that his interest\nauthoritatively demands he should attach himself to the country that\nprotects him, which enables him to enjoy in security the benefits of\nnature; every thing shews him that in order to be happy he must make\nhimself beloved; that his parent is for him the most certain of friends;\nthat ingratitude would remove him from his benefactor; that justice is\nnecessary to the maintenance of every association; that no man, whatever\nway he his power, can be content with himself, when he knows he is an\nobject of public hatred. He who has maturely reflected upon himself,\nupon his own nature, upon that of his associates, upon his own wants,\nupon the means of procuring them, cannot prevent himself from becoming\nacquainted with his duties--from discovering the obligations he owes to\nhimself, as well as those which he owes to others; from thence he has\nmorality, he has actual motives to confirm himself to its dictates; he\nis obliged to feel, that these duties are imperious: if his reason be\nnot disturbed by blind passions, if his mind be not contaminated by\nvicious habits, he will find that virtue is the surest road to felicity.\nThe atheists, as they are styled, or the fatalists, build their system\nupon necessity: thus, their moral speculations, founded upon the nature\nof things, are at least much more permanent, much more invariable, than\nthose which only rest upon systems that alter their aspect according\nto the various dispositions of their adherents--in conformity with the\nwayward passions of those who contemplate, them. The essence of things,\nand the immutable laws of nature, are not subject to fluctuate; it\nis imperative with the atheist, as he is facetiously called by the\ntheologian, to call whatever injures himself either vice or folly; to\ndesignate that which injures others, crime; to describe all that is\nadvantageous to society, every thing which contributes to its permanent\nhappiness, virtue.\n\nIt will be obvious, then, that the principles of the miscalled atheist\nare much less liable to be shaken, than those of the enthusiast, who\nshall have studied a baby from his earliest Infancy; who should have\ndevoted not only his days, but his nights, to gleaning the scanty\nportion of actual information that he scatters through his volumes;\nthey will have a much more substantive foundation than those of the\ntheologian, who shall construct his morality upon the harlequin scenery\nof systems that so frequently change, even in his own distempered brain.\nIf the atheist, as they please to call those who differ in opinion with\nthemselves, objects to the correctness, of--their systems, he cannot\ndeny his own existence, nor that of beings similar to himself, by whom\nhe is surrounded; he cannot doubt the reciprocity of the relations that\nsubsist between them; he cannot question the duties which spring out\nof these relations; Pyrrhonism, then, cannot enter his mind upon the\nactual principles of morality; which is nothing more than the science of\nthe relations of beings living together in society.\n\nIf, however, satisfied with a barren, speculative knowledge of his\nduties, the atheist of the theologian should not apply them in\nhis conduct--if, hurried along by the current of his ungovernable\npassions--if, borne forward by criminal habits--if, abandoned to\nshameful vices-if, possessing a vicious temperament, which he has\nnot been sedulous to correct--if, lending himself to the stream of\noutrageous desires, he appears to forget his moral obligations, it by no\nmeans follows, either that he hath no principles, or that his principles\nare false: it can only be concluded from such conduct, that in the\nintoxication of his passions, in the delirium of his habits, in the\nconfusion of his reason, he does not give activity to doctrines grounded\nupon truth; that he forgets to give currency to ascertained principles;\nthat he may follow those propensities which lead him astray. In this,\nindeed, he will have dreadfully descended to the miserable level of\nthe theologian, but he will nevertheless find him the partner of his\nfolly--the partaker of his insanity--the companion of his crime.\n\nNothing is, perhaps, more common among men, than a very marked\ndiscrepancy between the mind and the heart; that is to say, between the\ntemperament, the passions, the habits the caprices, the imagination, and\nthe judgment, assisted by reflection. Nothing is, in fact, more rare,\nthan to find these harmoniously running upon all fours with each other;\nit is, however, only when they do, that we see speculation influence\npractice. The most certain virtues are those which are founded upon\nthe temperament of man. Indeed, do we not every day behold mortals\nin contradiction with themselves? Does not their more sober judgment\nunceasingly condemn the extravagancies to which their undisciplined\npassions deliver them up? In short, doth not every thing prove to us\nhourly, that men, with the very best theory, have sometimes the very\nworst practice; that others with the most vicious theory, frequently\nadopt the most amiable line of conduct? In the blindest systems, in\nthe most atrocious superstitions, in those which are most contrary to\nreason, we meet with virtuous men, the mildness of whose character, the\nsensibility of whose hearts, the excellence of whose temperament, re\nconducts them to humanity, makes them fall back upon the laws of nature,\nin despite of their furious theories. Among the adorers of the most\ncruel, vindictive, jealous gods, are found peaceable, souls, who are\nenemies to persecution; who set their faces against violence; who are\ndecidedly opposed to cruelty: among the disciples of a God filled with\nmercy, abounding in clemency, are seen barbarous monsters; inhuman\ncannibals: nevertheless, both the one and the other acknowledge, that\ntheir gods ought to serve them for a model. Wherefore, then, do they not\nin all things conform themselves? It is because the most wicked systems\ncannot always corrupt a virtuous soul; that those which are most bland,\nmost gentle in their precepts, cannot always restrain hearts driven\nalong by the impetuosity of vice. The organization will, perhaps, be\nalways more potential than either superstition or religion. Present\nobjects, momentary interests, rooted habits, public opinion, have much\nmore efficacy than unintelligible theories, than imaginary systems,\nwhich themselves depend upon the organic structure of the human frame.\n\nThe point in question then is, to examine if the principles of the\natheist, as he is erroneously called, be true, and not whether his\nconduct be commendable? An atheist, having an excellent theory, founded\nupon nature, grafted upon experience, constructed upon reason, who\ndelivers himself up to excesses, dangerous to himself, injurious to\nsociety, is, without doubt, an inconsistent man. But he is not more to\nbe feared than a superstitious bigot; than a zealous enthusiast; or\nthan even a religious man who, believing in a good, confiding in an\nequitable, relying on a perfect God, does not scruple to commit the\nmost frightful devastations in his name. An atheistical tyrant would\nassuredly not be more to be dreaded than a fanatical despot. An\nincredulous philosopher, however, is not so mischievous a being as an\nenthusiastic priest, who either fans the flame of discord among his\nfellow subjects, or rises in rebellion against his legitimate monarch.\nWould, then, an atheist clothed with power, be equally dangerous as a\npersecuting priest-ridden king; as a savage inquisitor; as a whimsical\ndevotee; or, as a morose bigot? These are assuredly more numerous in the\nworld than atheists, as they are ludicrously termed, whose opinions, or\nwhose vices are far from being in a condition to have an influence\nupon society; which is ever too much hoodwinked by the priest, too much\nblinded by prejudice, too much the slave of superstition, to be disposed\nto give them a patient hearing.\n\nAn intemperate, voluptuous atheist, is not more dangerous to society\nthan a superstitions bigot, who knows how to connect licentiousness,\npunic faith, ingratitude, libertinism, corruption of morals, with his\ntheological notions. Can it, however, be ingeniously imagined, that a\nman, because he is falsely termed an atheist, or because he does not\nsubscribe to the vengeance of the most contradictory systems, will\ntherefore be a profligate debauche\u00e9, malicious, and persecuting; that he\nwill corrupt the wife of his friend; will turn his own wife adrift;\nwill consume both his time and his money in the most frivolous\ngratifications; will be the slave to the most childish amusements; the\ncompanion of the most dissolute men; that he will discard all his\nold friends; that he will select his bosom confidents from the brazen\nbetrayers of their native land--from among the hoary despoilers of\nconnubial happiness--from out of the ranks of veteran gamblers; that he\nwill either break into his neighbour's dwelling, or cut his throat;\nin short, that he will lend himself to all those excesses, the most\ninjurious to society, the most prejudicial to himself, the most\ndeserving public castigation? The blemishes of an atheist, then, as the\ntheologian styles him, have not any thing more extraordinary in them\nthan those of the superstitious man; they possess nothing with which his\ndoctrine can be fairly reproached. A tyrant, who should be incredulous,\nwould not be a more incommodious scourge to his subjects, than a\ntheological autocrat, who should wield his sceptre to the misery of his\npeople. Would the nation of the latter feel more happy, from the\nmere circumstance that the tyger who governed it believed in the most\nabstract systems, heaped the most sumptuous presents on the priests, and\nhumiliated himself at their shrine? At least it must be acknowledged,\naccording to the shewing of the theologian himself, that under\nthe dominion of the atheist, a nation would not have to apprehend\nsuperstitious vexations; to dread persecutions for opinion; to fear\nproscriptions for ill-digested systems; neither would it witness those\nstrange outrages that have sometimes been Committed for the interests\nof heaven, even under the mildest monarchs. If it was the victim to the\nturbulent passions of an unbelieving prince, the sacrifice to the folly\nof a sovereign who should be an infidel, it would not, at least, suffer\nfrom his blind infatuation, for theological systems which he does not\nunderstand; nor from his fanatical zeal, which of all the passions\nthat infest monarchs, is ever the most destructive, always the most\ndangerous. An atheistical tyrant, who should persecute for opinions,\nwould be a man not consistent with his own principles; he could not\nexist; he would not, indeed, according to the theologian, be an atheist\nat most, he would only furnish one more example, that mortals much\nmore frequently follow the blind impulse of their passions, the more\nimmediate stimulus of their interest, the irresistible torrent of their\ntemperament, than their speculations, however grave, however wise.\nIt is, at least, evident, that an atheist has one pretext less than a\ncredulous prince, for exercising his natural wickedness.\n\nIndeed, if men condescended to examine things coolly, they would find\nthat on this earth the name of God is but too frequently made use of as\na motive to indulge the worst of human passions. Ambition, imposture,\nand tyranny, have often formed a league to avail themselves of its\ninfluence, to the end that they might blind the people, and bend them\nbeneath a galling yoke: the monarch sometimes employs it to give a\ndivine lustre to his person--the sanction of heaven to his rights--the\nconfidence of its votaries to his most unjust, most extravagant whims.\nThe priest frequently uses it to give currency to his pretensions, to\nthe end that he may with impunity gratify his avarice, minister to his\npride, secure his independence. The vindictive, enraged, superstitious\nbeing, introduces the cause of his gods, that he may give free scope to\nhis fury, which he qualifies with zeal. In short, superstition becomes\ndangerous, because it justifies those passions, lends legitimacy to\nthose crimes, holds forth as commendable those excesses, of which it\ndoes not fail to gather the fruit: according to its ministers, every\nthing is permitted to revenge the most high: thus the name of the\nDivinity is made use of to authorize the most baneful actions, to\npalliate the most injurious transgressions. The atheist, as he is\ncalled, when he commits crimes, cannot, at least, pretend that it is\nhis gods who command them, or who clothe them with the mantle of their\napproval, this is the excuse the superstitious being offers for his\nperversity; the tyrant for his persecutions; the priest for his cruelty,\nand for his sedition; the fanatic for the ebullition of his boiling\npassions; the penitent for his inutility.\n\n\"They are not,\" says Bayle, \"the general opinions of the mind, but the\npassions, which determine us to act.\" Atheism, as it is called, is a\nsystem which will not make a good man wicked but it may, perhaps, make\na wicked man good. \"Those,\" says the same author, \"who embraced the\nsect of Epicurus, did not become debauche\u00e9s because they had adopted\nthe doctrine of Epicurus; they only lent themselves to the system, then\nbadly understood, because they were debauche\u00e9s.\" In the same manner, a\nperverse man may embrace atheism, because he will flatter himself, that\nthis system will give full scope to his passions: he will nevertheless\nbe deceived. Atheism, as it is called, if well understood, is founded\nupon nature and upon reason, which never can, like superstition, either\njustify or expiate the crimes of the profligate.\n\nFrom the diffusion of doctrines which make morality depend upon\nunintelligible, incomprehensible systems, that are proposed to man for\na model, there has unquestionably resulted very great inconvenience.\nCorrupt souls, in discovering, how much each of these suppositions\nare erroneous or doubtful, give loose to the rein of their vices, and\nconclude there are not more substantive motives for acting well; they\nimagine that virtue, like these fragile systems, is merely chimerical;\nthat there is not any cogent solid reason for practising it in this\nworld. Nevertheless, it must be evident, that it is not as the disciples\nof any particular tenet, that we are bound to fulfil the duties of\nmorality; it is as men, living together in society, as sensible beings\nseeking to secure to ourselves a happy existence, that we should feel\nthe moral obligation. Whether these systems maintain their ground, or\nwhether the do not, our duties will remain the same; our nature, if\nconsulted, will incontestibly prove, that _vice is a decided evil, that\nvirtue is an actual, a substantial good_.\n\nIf, then, there be found atheists who have denied the distinction\nof good and evil, or who have dared to strike at the foundations of\nmorality; we ought to conclude, that upon this point they have reasoned\nbadly; that they have neither been acquainted with the nature of man,\nnor known the true source of his duties; that they have falsely imagined\nthat ethics, as well as theology, was only an ideal science; that the\nfleeting systems once destroyed, there no longer remained any bonds\nto connect mortals. Nevertheless, the slightest reflection would have\nincontestibly proved, that morality is founded upon immutable relations\nsubsisting between sensible, intelligent, sociable beings; that without\nvirtue, no society can maintain itself; that without putting the curb on\nhis desires, no mortal can conserve himself: man is constrained from\nhis nature to love virtue, to dread crime, by the same necessity that\nobliges him to seek happiness, and fly from sorrow: thus nature compels\nhim to place a distinction between those objects which please, and those\nobjects Which injure him. Ask a man, who is sufficiently irrational to\ndeny the difference between virtue and vice, if it would be indifferent\nto him to be beaten, robbed, calumniated, treated with ingratitude,\ndishonoured by his wife, insulted by his children, betrayed by his\nfriend? His answer will prove to you, that whatever he may say, he\ndiscriminates the actions of mankind; that the distinction between good\nand evil, does not depend either upon the conventions of men, or\nupon the ideas which they may have of particular systems; upon the\npunishments or upon the recompenses which attend mortals in a future\nexistence.\n\nOn the contrary, an atheist, as he is denominated, who should reason\nwith justness, would feel himself more interested than another in\npractising those virtues to which he finds his happiness attached in\nthis world. If his views do not extend themselves beyond the limits of\nhis present existence, he must, at least, desire to see his days roll\non in happiness and in peace. Every man, who during the calm of his\npassions, falls back upon himself, will feel that his interest invites\nhim to his own preservation; that his felicity rigorously demands he\nshould take the necessary means to enjoy life peaceably that it becomes\nan imperative duty to himself to keep his actual abode free from alarm;\nhis mind untainted by remorse. Man oweth something to man, not merely\nbecause he would offend any particular system, if he was to injure his\nfellow creature; but because in doing him an injury he would offend a\nman; would violate the laws of equity; in the maintenance of which every\nhuman being finds himself interested.\n\nWe every day see persons who are possessed of great talents, who have\nvery extensive knowledge, who enjoy very keen penetration, join to\nthese advantages a very corrupt heart; who lend, themselves to the most\nhideous vices: their opinions may be true in some respects, false in a\ngreat many others; their principles may be just, but their inductions\nare frequently defective; very often precipitate. A man may embrace\nsufficient knowledge to detect some of his errors, yet command too\nlittle energy to divest himself of his vicious propensities. Man is\na being whose character depends upon his organization, modified\nby habit--upon his temperament, regulated by education--upon his\npropensities, marshalled by example--upon his; passions, guided by\nhis government; in short, he is only what transitory or permanent\ncircumstances make him: his superstitious ideas are obliged to yield to\nthis temperament; his imaginary systems feel a necessity to accommodate\nthemselves to his propensities; his theories give way to his interests.\nIf the system which constitutes man an atheist in the eyes of this\ntheologic friend, does not remove him from the vices with which he was\nanteriorly tainted, neither does it tincture him with any new ones;\nwhereas, superstition furnishes its disciples with a thousand pretexts\nfor committing evil without repugnance; induces them even to applaud\nthemselves for the commission of crime. Atheism, at least, leaves men\nsuch as they are; it will neither increase a man's intemperance, nor\nadd to his debaucheries, it will not render him more cruel than his\ntemperament before invited him to be: whereas superstition either\nlacks the rein to the most terrible passions, gives loose to the most\nabominable suggestions, or else procures easy expiations for the most\ndishonourable vices. \"Atheism,\" says Chancellor Bacon, \"leaves to man\nreason, philosophy, natural piety, laws, reputation, and every thing\nthat can serve to conduct him to virtue; but superstition destroys all\nthese things, and erects itself into a tyranny over the understandings\nof men: this is the reason why atheism never disturbs the government,\nbut renders man more clear-sighted, as seeing nothing beyond the bounds\nof this life.\" The same author adds, \"that the times in which men\nhave turned towards atheism, have been the most tranquil; whereas\nsuperstition has always inflamed their minds, and carried them on to\nthe greatest disorders; because it infatuates the people with novelties,\nwhich wrest from and carry with them all the authority of government.\"\n\nMen, habituated to meditate, accustomed to make study a pleasure, are\nnot commonly dangerous citizens: whatever may be their speculations,\nthey never produce sudden revolutions upon the earth. The winds of the\npeople, at all times susceptible to be inflamed by the marvellous, their\ndormant passions liable to be aroused by enthusiasm, obstinately resist\nthe light of simple truths; never heat themselves for systems that\ndemand a long train of reflection--that require the depth of the\nmost acute reasoning. The system of atheism, as the priests choose to\ndenominate it, can only be the result of long meditation; the fruit of\nconnected study; the produce of an imagination cooled by experience: it\nis the child of reason. The peaceable Epicurus never disturbed Greece;\nhis philosophy was publicly taught in Athens during many centuries; he\nwas in incredible favour with his countrymen, who caused statues to be\nerected to him; he had a prodigious number of friends, and his school\nsubsisted for a very long period. Cicero, although a decided enemy\nto the Epicureans, gives a brilliant testimony to the probity both\nof Epicurus and his disciples, who were remarkable for the inviolable\nfriendship they bore each other. In the time of Marcus Aurelius, there\nwas at Athens a public professor of the philosophy of Epicurus, paid\nby that emperor, who was himself a stoic. Hobbes did not cause blood to\nflow in England, although in his time, religious fanaticism made a king\nperish on the scaffold. The poem of Lucretius caused no civil wars\nin Rome; the writings of Spinosa did not excite the same troubles in\nHolland as the disputes of Gomar and D'Arminius. In short, we can defy\nthe enemies to human reason to cite a single example, which proves in a\ndecisive manner that opinions purely philosophical, or directly contrary\nto superstition, have ever excited disturbances in the state. Tumults\nhave generally arisen from theological notions, because both princes and\npeople have always foolishly believed they ought to take a part in\nthem. There is nothing so dangerous as that empty philosophy, which\nthe theologians have combined with their systems. It is to philosophy,\ncorrupted by priests, that it peculiarly belongs to blow up the embers\nof discord; to invite the people to rebellion; to drench the earth with\nhuman blood. There is, perhaps, no theological question, which has not\nbeen the source of immense mischief to man; whilst all the writings of\nthose denominated atheists, whether ancient or modern, have never caused\nany evil but to their authors; whom dominant imposture has frequently\nimmolated at his deceptive shrine.\n\nThe principles of atheism are not formed for the mass of the people,\nwho are commonly under the tutelage of their priests; they are\nnot calculated for those frivolous capacities, not suited to those\ndissipated minds, who fill society with their vices, who hourly afford\nevidence of their own inutility; they will not gratify the ambitious;\nneither are they adapted to intriguers, nor fitted for those restless\nbeings who find their immediate interest in disturbing the harmony\nof the social compact: much less are they made for a great number of\npersons, who, enlightened in other respects, have not sufficient courage\nto divorce themselves from the received prejudices.\n\nSo many causes unite themselves to confirm man in those errors which he\ndraws in with his mother's milk, that every step that removes him from\nthese endeared fallacies, costs him uncommon pain. Those persons who\nare most enlightened, frequently cling on some side to the general\nprepossession. By giving up these revered ideas, we feel ourselves, as\nit were, isolated in society: whenever we stand alone in our opinions,\nwe no longer seem to speak the language of our associates; we are apt\nto fancy ourselves placed on a barren, desert island, in sight of a\npopulous, fruitful country, which we can never reach: it therefore\nrequires great courage to adopt a mode of thinking that has but few\napprovers. In those countries where human knowledge has made some\nprogress; where, besides, a certain freedom of thinking is enjoyed, may\neasily be found a great number of deicolists, theists, or incredulous\nbeings, who, contented with having trampled under foot the grosser\nprejudices of the illiterate, have not dared to go back to the\nsource--to cite the more subtle systems before the tribunal of reason.\nIf these thinkers did not stop on the road, reflection would quickly\nprove to them that those systems which they have not the fortitude\nto examine, are equally injurious to sound ratiocination, fully\nas revolting to good sense, quite as repugnant to the evidence\nof experience, as any of those doctrines, mysteries, fables, or\nsuperstitious customs, of which they have already acknowledged the\nfutility; they would feel, as we have already proved, that all these\nthings are nothing more than the necessary consequences of those\nprimitive errors which man has indulged for so many ages in succession;\nthat in admitting these errors, they no longer have any rational cause\nto reject the deductions which the imagination has drawn from them. A\nlittle attention would distinctly shew them, that it is precisely these\nerrors that are the true cause of all the evils of society; that those\nendless disputes, those sanguinary quarrels, to which superstition and\nthe spirit of party every instant give birth, are the inevitable effects\nof the importance they attach to errors which possess all the means of\ndistraction, that scarcely ever fail to put the mind of man into a state\nof combustion. In short, nothing is more easy than to convince ourselves\nthat imaginary systems, not reducible to comprehension, which are always\npainted under terrific aspects, must act upon the imagination in a\nvery lively manner, must sooner or later produce disputes--engender\nenthusiasm--give birth to fanaticism--end in delirium.\n\nMany persons acknowledge, that the extravagances to which superstition\nlends activity, are real evils; many complain of the abuse of\nsuperstition, but there are very few who feel that this abuse, together\nwith the evils, are the necessary consequences of the fundamental\nprinciples of all superstition; which are founded upon the most grievous\nnotions, which rest themselves on the most tormenting opinions. We\ndaily see persons undeceived upon superstitious ideas, who nevertheless\npretend that this superstition \"is salutary for the people;\" that\nwithout its supernatural magic, they could not be kept within due\nbounds; in other words, could not be made the voluntary slaves of the\npriest. But, to reason thus, is it not to say, poison is beneficial to\nmankind, that therefore it is proper to poison them, to prevent them\nfrom making an improper use of their power? Is it not in fact to pretend\nit is advantageous to render them absurd; that it is a profitable course\nto make them extravagant; wholesome to give them an irrational bias;\nthat they have need of hobgoblins to blind them; require the most\nincomprehensible systems to make them giddy; that it is imperative\nto submit them either to impostors or to fanatics, who will avail\nthemselves of their follies to disturb the repose of the world? Again,\nis it an ascertained fact, does experience warrant the conclusion, that\nsuperstition has a useful influence over the morals of the people? It\nappears much more evident, is much better borne out by observation,\nfalls more in with the evidence of the senses, that it enslaves them\nwithout rendering them better; that it constitutes an herd of ignorant\nbeings, whom panic terrors keep under the yoke of their task-masters;\nwhom their useless fears render the wretched instruments of towering\nambition--of rapacious tyrants; of the subtle craft of designing\npriests: that it forms stupid slaves, who are acquainted with no other\nvirtue, save a blind submission to the most futile customs, to which\nthey attach a much more substantive value than to the actual virtues\nspringing out of the duties of morality; or issuing from the social\ncompact which has never been made known to them. If by any chance,\nsuperstition does restrain some few individuals, it has no effect on\nthe greater number, who suffer themselves to be hurried along by the\nepidemical vices with which they are infected: they are placed by it\nupon the stream of corruption, and the tide either sweeps them away,\nor else, swelling the waters, breaks through its feeble mounds, and\ninvolves the whole in one undistinguished mass of ruin. It is in those\ncountries where superstition has the greatest power, that will always\nbe found the least morality. Virtue is incompatible with ignorance; it\ncannot coalesce with superstition; it cannot exist with slavery: slaves\ncan only be kept in subordination by the fear of punishment; ignorant\nchildren are for a moment intimidated by imaginary terrors. But freemen,\nthe children of truth, have no fears but of themselves; are neither to\nbe lulled into submission by visionary duties, nor coerced by fanciful\nsystems; they yield ready obedience to the evident demonstrations of\nvirtue; are the faithful, the invulnerable supporters of solid systems;\ncling with ardour to the dictates of reason; form impenetrable\nramparts round their legitimate sovereigns; and fix their thrones on an\nimmoveable basis, unknown to the theologian; that cannot be touched with\nunhallowed hands; whose duration will be commensurate with the existence\nof time itself. To form freemen, however, to have virtuous citizens,\nit is necessary to enlighten them; it is incumbent to exhibit truth to\nthem; it is imperative to reason with them; it is indispensable to make\nthem feel their interests; it is paramount to learn them to respect\nthemselves; they must be instructed to fear shame; they must be excited\nto have a just idea of honour; they must be made familiar with the value\nof virtue, they must be shewn substantive motives for following its\nlessons. How can these happy effects ever be expected from the polluted\nfountains of superstition, whose waters do nothing more than degrade\nmankind? Or how are they to be obtained from the ponderous, bulky yoke\nof tyranny, which proposes nothing more to itself, than to vanquish them\nby dividing them; to keep them in the most abject condition by means of\nlascivious vices, and the most detestable crimes?\n\nThe false idea, which so many persons have of the utility of\nsuperstition, which they, at least, judge to be calculated to restrain\nthe licentiousness of the illiterate, arise from the fatal prejudice\nthat it is a useful error; that truth may be dangerous. This principle\nhas complete efficacy to eternize the sorrows of the earth: whoever\nshall have the requisite courage to examine these things, will without\nhesitation acknowledge, that all the miseries of the human race are to\nbe ascribed to his errors; that of these, superstitious error must he\nthe most prejudicial, from the importance which is usually attached to\nit; from the haughtiness with which it inspires sovereigns; from the\nworthless condition which it prescribes to subjects; from the phrenzy\nwhich it excites among the vulgar. We shall, therefore, be obliged to\nconclude, that the superstitious errors of man, rendered sacred by time,\nare exactly those which for the permanent interest of mankind, for the\nwell-being of society, for the security of the monarch himself,\ndemand the most complete destruction; that it is principally to their\nannihilation, the efforts of a sound philosophy ought to be directed. It\nis not to be feared, that this attempt will produce either disorders or\nrevolutions: the more freedom shall accompany the voice of truth, the\nmore convincing it will appear; although the more simple it shall\nbe, the less it will influence men, who are only smitten with the\nmarvellous; even those individuals who most sedulously seek after truth,\nwho pursue it with the greatest ardour, have frequently an irresistible\ninclination, that urges them on, and incessantly disposes them to\nreconcile error with its antipode. That great master of the art of\nthinking, who holds forth to his disciples such able advice, says, with\nabundant reason, \"that there is nothing but a good and solid philosophy,\nwhich can, like another Hercules, exterminate those monsters called\npopular errors: it is that alone which can give freedom to the human\nmind.\"\n\nHere is, unquestionably, the true reason why atheism, as it is called,\nof which hitherto the principles have not been sufficiently developed,\nappears to alarm even those persons who are the most destitute of\nprejudice. They find the interval too great between vulgar superstition\nand an absolute renunciation of it; they imagine they take a wise medium\nin compounding with error; they therefore reject the consequences, while\nthey admit the principle; they preserve the shadow and throw away the\nsubstance, without foreseeing that, sooner or later, it must, by its\nobstetric art, usher into the world, one after another, the same\nfollies which now fill the heads of bewildered human beings, lost in\nthe labyrinths of incomprehensible systems. The major part of the\nincredulous, the greater number of reformers, do no more than prune a\ncankered tree, to whose root they dare not apply the axe; they do\nnot perceive that this tree will in the end produce the same fruit.\nTheology, or superstition, will always be an heap of combustible matter:\nbrooded in the imagination of mankind, it will always finish by causing\nthe most terrible explosions. As long as the sacerdotal order shall have\nthe privilege of infecting youth--of habituating their minds to tremble\nbefore unmeaning words--of alarming nations with the most terrific\nsystems, so long will fanaticism be master of the human mind; imposture\nwill, at its pleasure, cast the apple of discord among the members of\nthe state. The most simple error, perpetually fed, unceasingly modified,\ncontinually exaggerated by the imagination of man, will by degrees\nassume a collossal figure, sufficiently powerful to upset every\ninstitution; amply competent to the overthrow of empires. Theism is a\nsystem at which the human mind cannot make a long sojourn; founded upon\nerror, it will, sooner or later, degenerate into the most absurd, the\nmost dangerous superstition.\n\nMany incredulous beings, many theists, are to be met with in those\ncountries where freedom of opinion reigns; that is to say, where the\ncivil power has known how to balance superstition. But, above all,\natheists as they are termed, will be found in those nations where,\nsuperstition, backed by the sovereign authority, most enforces the\nponderosity of its yoke; most impresses the volume of its severity;\nimprudently abuses its unlimited power. Indeed, when in these kind of\ncountries, science, talents, the seeds of reflection, are not entirely\nstifled, the greater part of the men who think, revolt at the crying\nabuses of superstition; are ashamed of its multifarious follies; are\nshocked at the corruption of its professors; scandalized at the tyranny\nof its priests: are struck with horror at those massive chains which\nit imposes on the credulous. Believing with great reason, that they can\nnever remove themselves too far from its savage principles, the system\nthat serves for the basis of such a creed, becomes as odious as the\nsuperstition itself; they feel that terrific systems can only be\ndetailed by cruel ministers; these become detestable objects to every\nenlightened, to every honest mind, in which either the love of equity,\nor the sacred fire of freedom resides; to every one who is the advocate\nof humanity--the indignant spurner of tyranny. Oppression gives a spring\nto the soul; it obliges man to examine closely into the cause of his\nsorrows; misfortune is a powerful incentive, that turns the mind to\nthe side of truth. How formidable a foe must not outraged reason be to\nfalsehood? It at least throws it into confusion, when it tears away its\nmask; when it follows it into its last entrenchment; when it proves,\nbeyond contradiction, that _nothing is so dastardly as delusion\ndetected, or tyrannic power held at bay._\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XIII.\n\n_Of the motives which lead to what is falsely called Atheism.--Can this\nSystem be dangerous?--Can it be embraced by the Illiterate?_\n\n\nThe reflections, as well as the facts which have preceded, will furnish\na reply to those who inquire what interest man has in not admitting\nunintelligible systems? The tyrannies, the persecutions, the numberless\noutrages committed under these systems; the stupidity, the slavery,\ninto which their ministers almost every where plunge the people; the\nsanguinary disputes to which they give birth; the multitude of unhappy\nbeings with which their fatal notions fill the world; are surely\nabundantly sufficient to create the most powerful, the most interesting\nmotives, to determine all sensible men, who possess the faculty of\nthought, to examine into the authenticity of doctrines, which cause so\nmany serious evils to the inhabitants of the earth.\n\nA theist, very estimable for his talents, asks, \"if there can be any\nother cause than an evil disposition, which can make men atheists?\" I\nreply to him, yes, there are other causes. There is the desire, a very\nlaudable one, of having a knowledge of interesting truths; there is the\npowerful interest of knowing what opinions we ought to hold upon the\nobject which is announced to us as the most important; there is the fear\nof deceiving ourselves upon systems which are occupied with the opinions\nof mankind, which do not permit he should deceive himself respecting\nthem with impunity. But when these motives, these causes, should not\nsubsist, is not indignation, or if they will, an evil disposition, a\nlegitimate cause, a good and powerful motive, for closely examining the\npretensions, for searching into the rights of systems, in whose name so\nmany crimes are perpetrated? Can any man who feels, who thinks, who\nhas any elasticity in his soul, avoid being incensed against austere\ntheories, which are visibly the pretext, undeniably the source, of all\nthose evils, which on every side assail the human race? Are they not\nthese fatal systems which are at once the cause and the ostensible\nreason of that iron yoke that oppresses mankind; of that wretched\nslavery in which he lives; of that blindness which hides from him\nhis happiness; of that superstition, which disgraces him; of those\nirrational customs which torment him; of those sanguinary quarrels which\ndivide him; of all the outrages which he experiences? Must not every\nbreast in which humanity is not extinguished, irritate itself against\nthat theoretical speculation, which in almost every country is made to\nspeak the language of capricious, inhuman, irrational tyrants?\n\nTo motives so natural, so substantive, we shall join those which are\nstill more urgent, more personal to every reflecting man: namely, that\nbenumbing terror, that incommodious fear, which must be unceasingly\nnourished by the idea of capricious theories, which lay man open to the\nmost severe penalties, even for secret thoughts, over which he himself\nhas not any controul; that dreadful anxiety arising out of inexorable\nsystems, against which he may sin without even his own knowledge; of\nmorose doctrines, the measure of which he can never be certain of having\nfulfilled; which so far from being equitable, make all the obligations\nlay on one side; which with the most ample means of enforcing restraint,\nfreely permit evil, although they hold out the most excruciating\npunishments for the delinquents? Does it not then, embrace the best\ninterests of humanity, become of the highest importance to the welfare\nof mankind, of the greatest consequence to the quiet of his existence,\nto verify the correctness of these systems? Can any thing be more\nrational than to probe to the core these astounding theories? Is it\npossible that any thing can be more just, than to inquire rigorously\ninto the rights, sedulously to examine the foundations, to try by\nevery known test, the stability of doctrines, that involve in their\noperations, consequences of such colossal magnitude; that embrace, in\ntheir dictatory mandates, matters of such high behest; that implicate\nthe eternal felicity of such countless millions in the vortex of their\naction? Would it not be the height of folly to wear such a tremendous\nyoke without inquiry; to let such overwhelming notions pass current\nunauthenticated; to permit the soi-disant ministers of these terrific\nsystems to establish their power, without the most ample verification\nof their patents of mission? Would it, I repeat, be at all wonderful, if\nthe frightful qualities of some of these systems, as exhibited by\ntheir official expounders, whom the accredited functionaries of similar\nsystems, do not scruple, in the face of day, to brand as impostors,\nshould induce rational beings to drive them entirely from their hearts;\nto shake off such an intolerable burden of misery; to even deny the\nexistence of such appalling doctrines, of such petrifying systems,\nwhich the superstitious themselves, whilst paying them their homage,\nfrequently curse from the very bottom of their hearts?\n\nThe theist, however, will not fail to tell the atheist, as he calls him,\nthat these systems are not such as superstition paints them; that the\ncolours are coarse, too glaring, ill assorted, the perspective out of\nall keeping; he will then exhibit his own picture, in which the tints\nare certainly blended with more mellowness, the colouring of a more\npleasing hue, the whole more harmonious, but the distances equally\nindistinct: the atheist, in reply, will say, that superstition itself,\nwith all the absurd prejudices, all the mischievous notions to which it\ngives birth, are only corollaries drawn from the fallacious ideas, from\nthose obscure principles, which the deicolist himself indulges. That his\nown incomprehensible system authorizes the incomprehensible absurdities,\nthe inconceivable mysteries, with which superstition abounds; that they\nflow consecutively from his own premises; that when once the mind of\nmortals is bewildered in the dark, inextricable mazes of an ill-directed\nimagination, it will incessantly multiply its chimeras. To assure the\nrepose of mankind, fundamental errors must be annihilated; that he may\nunderstand his true relations, be acquainted with his imperative duties,\nprimary delusions must be rectified; to procure him that serenity of\nsoul, without which there can be no substantive happiness, original\nfallacies must be undermined. If the systems of the superstitious\nbe revolting, if their theories be gloomy, if their dogmas are\nunintelligible, those of the theist will always be contradictory; will\nprove fatal, when he shall be disposed to meditate upon them; will\nbecome the source of illusions, with which, sooner or later, imposture\nwill not omit to abuse his credulity. Nature alone, with the truths she\ndiscovers, is capable of lending to the human mind that firmness\nwhich falsehood will never be able to shake; to the human heart that\nself-possession, against which imposture will in vain direct its\nattacks.\n\nLet us again reply to those who unceasingly repeat that the interest of\nthe passions alone conduct man to what is termed atheism: that it is the\ndread of future punishment that determines corrupt individuals to make\nthe most strenuous efforts to break up a system they have reason to\ndread. We shall, without hesitation, agree that it is the interest of\nman's passions which excites him to make inquiries; without interest,\nno man is tempted to seek; without passion, no man will seek vigorously.\nThe question, then, to be examined, is, if the passions and interests,\nwhich determine some thinkers to dive into the stability or the systems\nheld forth to their adoption, are or are not legitimate? These interests\nhave, already been exposed, from which it has been proved, that every\nrational man finds in his inquietudes, in his fears, reasonable motives\nto ascertain, whether or not it be necessary to pass his life in\nperpetual dread; in never ceasing agonies? Will it be said, that an\nunhappy being, unjustly condemned to groan in chains, has not the right\nof being willing to render them asunder; to take some means to liberate\nhimself from his prison; to adopt some plan to escape from those\npunishments, which every instant threaten him? Will it be pretended that\nhis passion for liberty has no legitimate foundation, that he does an\ninjury to the companions of his misery, in withdrawing himself from the\nshafts of tyrannical infliction; or in furnishing, them also with means\nto escape from its cruel strokes? Is, then, an incredulous man, any\nthing more than one who has taken flight from the general prison,\nin which despotic superstition detains nearly all mankind? Is not an\natheist, as he is called, who writes, one who has broken his fetters,\nwho supplies to those of his associates who have sufficient courage to\nfollow him, the means of setting themselves free from the terrors that\nmenace them? The priests unceasingly repeat that it is pride, vanity,\nthe desire of distinguishing himself from the generality of mankind,\nthat determines man to incredulity. In this they are like some of those\nwealthy mortals, who treat all those as insolent who refuse to cringe\nbefore them. Would not every rational man have a right to ask the\npriest, where is thy superiority in matters of reasoning? What motives\ncan I have to submit my reason to thy delirium? On the other hand, way\nit not be said to the hierarchy, that it is interest which makes them\npriests; that it is interest which renders them theologians; that it is\nfor the interest of their passions, to inflate their pride, to gratify\ntheir avarice, to minister to their ambition, &c. that they attach\nthemselves to systems, of which they alone reap the benefits? Whatever\nit may be, the priesthood, contented with exercising their power over\nthe illiterate, ought to permit those men who do think, to be excused\nfrom bending the knee before their vain, illusive idols.\n\nWe also agree, that frequently the corruption of morals, a life of\ndebauchery, a licentiousness of conduct, even levity of mind, may\nconduct man to incredulity; but is it not possible to be a libertine, to\nbe irreligious, to make a parade of incredulity, without being on that\naccount an atheist? There is unquestionably a difference between those\nwho are led to renounce belief in unintelligible systems by dint of\nreasoning, and those who reject or despise superstition, only because\nthey look upon it as a melancholy object, or an incommodious restraint.\nMany persons, no doubt, renounce received prejudices, through vanity or\nupon hearsay; these pretended strong minds have not examined any thing\nfor themselves; they act upon the authority of others, whom they suppose\nto have weighed things more maturely. This kind of incredulous beings,\nhave not, then, any distinct ideas, any substantive opinions, and are\nbut little capacitated to reason for themselves; they are indeed hardly\nin a state to follow the reasoning of others. They are irreligious in\nthe same manner as the majority of mankind are superstitious, that is to\nsay, by credulity like the people; or through interest like the\npriest. A voluptuary devoted to his appetites; a debauche\u00e9 drowned\nin drunkenness; an ambitious mortal given up to his own schemes of\naggrandizement; an intriguer surrounded by his plots; a frivolous,\ndissipated mortal, absorbed by his gewgaws, addicted to his puerile\npursuits, buried in his filthy enjoyments; a loose woman abandoned to\nher irregular desires; a choice spirit of the day: are these I say,\npersonages, actually competent to form a sound judgment of superstition,\nwhich they have never examined? Are they in a condition to maturely\nweigh theories that require the utmost depth of thought? Have they the\ncapabilities to feel the force of a subtle argument; to compass the\nwhole of a system: to embrace the various ramifications of an extended\ndoctrine? If some feeble scintillations occasionally break in upon the\ncimmerian darkness of their minds; if by any accident they discover\nsome faint glimmerings of truth amidst the tumult of their passions; if\noccasionally a sudden calm, suspending, for a short season, the tempest\nof their contending vices, permits the bandeau of their unruly desires\nby which they are blinded, to drop for an instant from their hoodwinked\neyes, these leave on them only evanescent traces; scarcely sooner\nreceived than obliterated. Corrupt men only attack the gods when they\nconceive them to be the enemies to their vile passions. Arrian says,\n\"that when men imagine the gods are in opposition to their passions,\nthey abuse them, and overturn their altars.\" The Chinese, I believe, do\nthe same. The honest man makes war against systems which he finds are\ninimical to virtue--injurious to his own happiness--baneful to that of\nhis fellow mortals--contradictory to the repose, fatal to the interests\nof the human species. The bolder, therefore, the sentiments of the\nhonest atheist, the more strange his ideas, the more suspicious they\nappear to other men, the more strictly he ought to observe his own\nobligations; the more scrupulously he should perform his duties;\nespecially if he be not desirous that his morals shall calumniate his\nsystem; which duly weighed, will make the necessity of sound ethics, the\ncertitude of morality, felt in all its force; but which every species of\nsuperstition tends to render problematical, or to corrupt.\n\nWhenever our will is moved by concealed and complicated motives, it is\nextremely difficult to decide what determines it; a wicked man may be\nconducted to incredulity or to scepticism by those motives which he dare\nnot avow, even to himself; in believing he seeks after truth, he\nmay form an illusion to his mind, only to follow the interest of his\npassions; the fear of an avenging system will perhaps determine him to\ndeny their existence without examination; uniformly because he feels\nthem incommodious. Nevertheless, the passions sometimes happen to be\njust; a great interest carries us on to examine things more minutely;\nit may frequently make a discovery of the truth, even to him who seeks\nafter it the least, or who is only desirous to be lulled to sleep, who\nis only solicitous to deceive himself. It is the same with a perverse\nman who stumbles upon truth, as it is with him, who flying from an\nimaginary danger, should encounter in his road a dangerous serpent,\nwhich in his haste he should destroy; he does that by accident, without\ndesign, which a man, less disturbed in his mind, would have done with\npremeditated deliberation.\n\nTo judge properly of things, it is necessary to be disinterested; it\nis requisite to have an enlightened mind, to have connected ideas to\ncompass a great system. It belongs, in fact, only to the honest man\nto examine the proofs of systems--to scrutinize the principles of\nsuperstition; it belongs only to the man acquainted with nature,\nconversant with her ways, to embrace with intelligence the cause of the\nSYSTEM OF NATURE. The wicked are incapable of judging with temper;\nthe ignorant are inadequate to reason with accuracy; the honest, the\nvirtuous, are alone competent judges in so weighty an affair. What do\nI say? Is not the virtuous man, from thence in a condition to ardently\ndesire the existence of a system that remunerates the goodness of men?\nIf he renounces those advantages, which his virtue confers upon him\nthe right to hope, it is, undoubtedly, because he finds them imaginary.\nIndeed, every man who reflects will quickly perceive, that for one timid\nmortal, of whom these systems restrain the feeble passions, there are\nmillions whose voice they cannot curb, of whom, on the contrary, they\nexcite the fury; for one that they console, there are millions whom they\naffright, whom they afflict; whom they make unhappy: in short, he finds,\nthat against one inconsistent enthusiast, which these systems, which\nare thought so excellent, render happy, they carry discord, carnage,\nwretchedness into vast countries; plunge whole nations into misery;\ndeluge them with tears.\n\nHowever this may be, do not let us inquire into motives which may\ndetermine a man to embrace a system; let us rather examine the system\nitself; let us convince ourselves of its rectitude; if we shall find\nthat it is founded upon truth, we shall never, be able to esteem it\ndangerous. It is always falsehood that is injurious to man; if error be\nvisibly the source of his sorrows, reason is the true remedy for them;\nthis is the panacea that can alone carry consolation to his afflictions.\nDo not let us farther examine the conduct of a man who presents us with\na system; his ideas, as we have already said, may be extremely sound,\nwhen even his actions are highly deserving of censure. If the system of\natheism cannot make him perverse, who is not so by his temperament, it\ncannot render him good, who does not otherwise know the motives\nthat should conduct him to virtue. At least we have proved, that the\nsuperstitious man, when he has strong passions, when he possesses a\ndepraved heart, finds even in his creed a thousand pretexts more than\nthe atheist, for injuring the human species. The atheist has not, at\nleast, the mantle of zeal to cover his vengeance; he has not the command\nof his priest to palliate his transports; he has not the glory of his\ngods to countenance his fury; the atheist does not enjoy the faculty of\nexpiating, at the expence of a sum of money, the transgressions of his\nlife; of availing himself of certain ceremonies, by the aid of which he\nmay atone for the outrages he may have committed against society; he\nhas not the advantage of being able to reconcile himself with heaven, by\nsome easy custom; to quiet the remorse of his disturbed conscience, by\nan attention to outward forms: if crime has not deadened every feeling\nof his heart, he is obliged continually to carry within himself an\ninexorable judge, who unceasingly reproaches him for his odious conduct;\nwho forces him to blush for his own folly; who compels him to hate\nhimself; who imperiously obliges him to fear examination, to dread the\nresentment of others. The superstitious man, if he be wicked, gives\nhimself up to crime, which is followed by remorse; but his superstition\nquickly furnishes him with the means a getting rid of it; his life is\ngenerally no more than a long series of error and grief, of sin and\nexpiation, following each other in alternate succession; still more, he\nfrequently, as we have seen, perpetrates crimes of greater magnitude,\nin order to wash away the first. Destitute of any permanent ideas on\nmorality, he accustoms himself to look upon nothing as criminal, but\nthat which the ministers, the official expounders of his system, forbid\nhim to commit: he considers actions of the blackest dye as virtues, or\nas the means of effacing those transgressions, which are frequently held\nout to him as faithfully executing the duties of his creed. It is thus\nwe have seen fanatics expiate their adulteries by the most atrocious\npersecutions; cleanse their souls from infamy by the most unrelenting\ncruelty; make atonement for unjust wars by the foulest means; qualify\ntheir usurpations by outraging every principle of virtue; in order\nto wash away their iniquities, bathe themselves in the blood of those\nsuperstitious victims, whose infatuation made them martyrs.\n\nAn atheist, as he is falsely called, if he has reasoned justly, if he\nhas consulted nature, hath principles more determinate, more humane,\nthan the superstitious; his system, whether gloomy or enthusiastic,\nalways conducts the latter either to folly or cruelty; the imagination\nof the former will never be intoxicated to that degree, to make him\nbelieve that violence, injustice, persecution, or assassination\nare either virtuous or legitimate actions. We every day see that\nsuperstition, or the cause of heaven, as it is called, hoodwinks even\nthose persons who on every other occasion are humane, equitable, and\nrational; so much so, that they make it a paramount duty to treat with\ndetermined barbarity, those men who happen to step aside from their mode\nof thinking. An heretic, an incredulous being, ceases to be a man, in\nthe eyes of the superstitious. Every society, infected with the venom of\nbigotry, offers innumerable examples of juridical assassination, which\nthe tribunals commit without scruple, even without remorse. Judges who\nare equitable on every other occasion, are no longer so when there is a\nquestion of theological opinions; in steeping their hands in the blood\nof their victims, they believe, on the authority of the priests, they\nconform themselves to the views of the Divinity. Almost every where the\nlaws are subordinate to superstition; make themselves accomplices in its\nfanatical fury; they legitimate those actions most opposed to the gentle\nvoice of humanity; they even transform into imperative duties, the most\nbarbarous cruelties. The president Grammont relates, with a satisfaction\ntruly worthy of a cannibal, the particulars of the punishment of Vanini,\nwho was burned at Thoulouse, although he had disavowed the opinions with\nwhich he was accused; this president carries his demoniac prejudices\nso far, as to find wickedness in the piercing cries, in the\ndreadful howlings, which torment wrested from this unhappy victim\nto superstitious vengeance. Are not all these avengers of the gods\nmiserable men, blinded by their piety, who, under the impression of\nduty, wantonly immolate at the shrine of superstition, those wretched\nvictims whom the priests deliver over to them? Are they not savage\ntyrants, who have the rank injustice to violate thought; who have the\nfolly to believe they can enslave it? Are they not delirious fanatics,\non whom the law, dictated by the most inhuman prejudices, imposes the\nnecessity of acting like ferocious brutes? Are not all those sovereigns,\nwho to gratify the vanity of the priesthood, torment and persecute their\nsubjects, who sacrifice to their anthropophagite gods human victims,\nmen whom superstitious zeal has converted into tygers? Are not those\npriests, so careful of the soul's health, who insolently break into the\nsacred sanctuary of man's mind, to the end that they may find in his\nopinions motives for doing him an injury, abominable knaves, disturbers\nof the public repose, whom superstition honours, but whom virtue\ndetests? What villains are more odious in the eyes of humanity, what\ndepredators more hateful to the eye of reason, than those infamous\ninquisitors, who by the blindness of princes, by the delirium of\nmonarchs, enjoy the advantage of passing judgment on their own enemies;\nwho ruthlessly commit them to the charity of the flames? Nevertheless,\nthe fatuity of the people makes even these monsters respected; the\nfavour of kings covers them with kindness; the mantle of superstitious\nopinion shields them from the effect of the just execration of every\nhonest man. Do not a thousand examples prove, that superstition has\nevery where produced the most frightful ravages: that it has continually\njustified the most unaccountable horrors? Has it not a thousand times\narmed its votaries with the dagger of the homicide; let loose passions\nmuch wore terrible than those which it pretended to restrain; broken up\nthe most sacred bonds by which mortals are connected with each other?\nHas it not, under the pretext of duty, under the colour of faith,\nunder the semblance of zeal, under the sacred name of piety, favoured\ncupidity, lent wings to ambition, countenanced cruelty, given a spring\nto tyranny? Has it not legitimatized murder; given a system to perfidy;\norganized rebellion; made a virtue of regicide? Have not those princes\nwho have been foremost as the avengers of heaven, who have been the\nlictors of superstition, frequently themselves become its victims? In\nshort, has it not been the signal for the most dismal follies, the most\nwicked outrages, the most horrible massacres? Has not its altars been\ndrenched with human gore? Under whatever form it has been exhibited,\nhas it not always been the ostensible cause of the most bare-faced\nviolation--of the sacred rights of humanity?\n\nNever will an atheist, as he is called, as called, as he enjoys his\nproper senses, persuade himself that similar actions can be justifiable;\nnever will he believe that he who commits them can be an estimable man;\nthere is no one but the superstitious, whose blindness makes him forget\nthe most evident principles of morality, whose callous soul renders\nhim deaf to the voice of nature, whose zeal causes him to overlook\nthe dictates of reason, who can by any possibility imagine the most\ndestructive crimes are the most prominent features of virtue. If the\natheist be perverse, he, at least, knows that he acts wrong; neither\nthese systems, nor their priests, will be able to persuade him that he\ndoes right: one thing, however, is certain, whatever crimes he may allow\nhimself to commit, he will never be capable of exceeding those which\nsuperstition perpetrates without scruple; that it encourages in those\nwhom it intoxicates with its fury; to whom it frequently holds forth\nwickedness itself, either as expiations for offences, or else as\northodox, meritorious actions.\n\nThus the atheist, however wicked he may be supposed, will at most be\nupon a level with the devotee, whose superstition encourages him to\ncommit crimes, which it transforms into virtue. As to conduct, if he\nbe debauched, voluptuous, intemperate, adulterous, the atheist in\nthis differs in nothing from the most credulously superstitious, who\nfrequently knows how to connect these vices with his credulity, to\nblend with his superstition certain atrocities, for which his priests,\nprovided he renders due homage to their power, especially if he augments\ntheir exchequer, will always find means to pardon him. If he be in\nHindoostan, his brahmins will wash him in the sacred waters of the\nGanges, while reciting a prayer. If he be a Jew, upon making an\noffering, his sins will be effaced. If he be in Japan, he will be\ncleansed by performing a pilgrimage. If he be a Mahometan, he will be\nreputed a saint, for having visited the tomb of his prophet; the Roman\npontiff himself will sell him indulgences; but none of them will ever\ncensure him for those crimes he may have committed in the support of\ntheir several faiths.\n\nWe are constantly told, that the indecent behaviour of the official\nexpounders of superstition, the criminal conduct of the priests, or of\ntheir sectaries, proves nothing against the goodness of their systems.\nAdmitted: but wherefore do they not say the same thing of the conduct of\nthose whom they call atheists, who, as we have already proved, way\nhave a very substantive, a very correct system of morality, even while\nleading a very dissolute life? If it be necessary to judge the opinions\nof mankind according to their conduct, which is the theory that would\nbear the scrutiny? Let us, then, examine the opinion of the atheist,\nwithout approving his conduct; let us adopt his mode of thinking, if we\nfind it marked by the truth; if it shall appear useful; if it shall be\nproved rational; but let us reject his mode of action, if that should be\nfound blameable. At the sight of a work performed with truth, we do not\nembarrass ourselves with the morals of the workman: of what importance\nis it to the universe, whether the illustrious Newton was a sober,\ndiscreet citizen, or a debauched intemperate man? It only remains for us\nto examine his theory; we want nothing more than to know whether he\nhas reasoned acutely; if his principles be steady; if the parts of his\nsystem are connected; if his work contains more demonstrable truths,\nthan bold ideas? Let us judge in the same manner of the principles of\nthe atheist; if they appear strange, if they are unusual, that is a\nsolid reason for probing them more strictly; if he has spoken truth,\nif he has demonstrated his positions, let us yield to the weight of\nevidence; if he be deceived in some parts, let us distinguish the true\nfrom the false; but do not let us fall into the hacknied prejudice,\nwhich on account of one error in the detail, rejects a multitude of\nincontestible truisms. Doctor Johnson, I think, says in his preface to\nhis Dictionary, \"when a man shall have executed his task with all the\naccuracy possible, he will only be allowed to have done his duty; but if\nhe commits the slightest error, a thousand snarlers are ready to point\nit out.\" The atheist, when he is deceived, has unquestionably as\nmuch right to throw his faults on the fragility of his nature, as the\nsuperstitious man. An atheist may have vices, may be defective, he\nmay reason badly; but his errors will never have the consequences of\nsuperstitious novelties; they will not, like these, kindle up the fire\nof discord in the bosom of nations; the atheist will not justify his\nvices, defend his wanderings by superstition; he will not pretend to\ninfallibility, like those self-conceited theologians who attach the\nDivine sanction to their follies; who initiate that heaven authorizes\nthose sophisms, gives currency to those falsehoods, approves those\nerrors, which they believe themselves warranted to distribute over the\nface of the earth.\n\nIt will perhaps be said, that the refusal to believe in these systems,\nwill rend asunder one of the most powerful bonds of society, by making\nthe sacredness of an oath vanish. I reply, that perjury is by no means\nrare, even in the most superstitious nations, nor even among the\nmost religious, or among those who boast of being the most thoroughly\nconvinced of the rectitude of their theories. Diagoras, superstitious as\nhe was, and it was not well possible to be more so, it is said became\nan atheist, on seeing that the gods did not thunder their vengeance on\na man who had taken them as evidence to a falsity. Upon this principle,\nhow many atheists ought there to be? From the systems that have made\ninvisible unknown beings the depositaries of man's engagements, we do\nnot always see it result that they are better observed; or that the\nmost solemn contracts have acquired a greater solidity. If history\nwas consulted, it would now and then be in evidence, that even the\nconductors of nations, those who have said they were the images of the\nDivinity, who have declared that they held their right of governing\nimmediately from his hands, have sometimes taken the Deity as the\nwitness to their oaths, have made him the guarantee of their treaties,\nwithout its having had all the effect that might have been expected,\nwhen very trifling interests have intervened; it would appear, unless\nhistorians are incorrect, that they did not always religiously observe\nthose sacred engagements they made with their allies, much less with\ntheir subjects. To form a judgment from these historic documents,\nwe should be inclined to say, there have been those who had much\nsuperstition, joined with very little probity; who made a mockery\nboth of gods and men; who perhaps blushed when they reviewed their own\nconduct: nor can this be at all surprising, when it not unfrequently\nhappened that superstition itself absolved them from their oaths. In\nfact, does not superstition sometimes inculcate perfidy; prescribe\nviolation of plighted faith? Above all, when there is a question of its\nown interests, does it not dispense with engagements, however solemn,\nmade with those whom it condemns? It is, I believe, a maxim in the\nRomish church, that _\"no faith is to be held with heretics.\"_ The\ngeneral council of Constance decided thus, when, notwithstanding the\nemperor's passport, it decreed John Hus and Jerome of Prague to be\nburnt. The Roman pontiff has, it is well known, the right of relieving\nhis sectaries from their oaths; of annulling their vows: this same\npontiff has frequently arrogated to himself the right of deposing kings;\nof absolving their subjects from their oaths of fidelity. Indeed, it\nis rather extraordinary that oaths should be prescribed, by the laws\nof those nations which profess Christianity, seeing that Christ\nhas expressly forbidden the use of them. If things were considered\nattentively, it would be obvious that under such management,\nsuperstition and politics are schools of perjury. They render it common:\nthus knaves of every description never recoil, when it is necessary to\nattest the name of the Divinity to the most manifest frauds, for the\nvilest interests. What end, then, do oaths answer? They are snares, in\nwhich simplicity alone can suffer itself to be caught: oaths, almost\nevery where, are vain formalities, that impose nothing upon villains;\nnor do they add any thing to the sacredness of the engagements of honest\nmen; who would neither have the temerity nor the wish to violate them;\nwho would not think themselves less bound without an oath. A perfidious,\nperjured, superstitious being, has not any advantage over an atheist,\nwho should fail in his promises: neither the one nor the other any\nlonger deserves the confidence of their fellow citizens nor the esteem\nof good men; if one does not respect his gods, in whom he believes, the\nother neither respects his reason, his reputation, nor public opinion,\nin which all rational men cannot refuse to believe. Hobbes says, \"an\noath adds nothing to the obligation. For a covenant, if lawful, binds\nin the sight of God, without the oath, as much as with it: if unlawful,\nbindeth not at all: though it be confirmed with an oath.\" The heathen\nform was, \"let Jupiter kill me else, as I kill this beast.\" Adjuration\nonly augments, in the imagination of him who swears, the fear of\nviolating an engagement, which he would have been obliged to keep, even\nwithout the ceremony of an oath.\n\nIt has frequently been asked, if there ever was a nation that had no\nidea of the Divinity: and if a people, uniformly composed of atheists,\nwould be able to subsist? Whatever some speculators may say, it does not\nappear likely that there ever has been upon our globe, a numerous people\nwho have not had an idea of some invisible power, to whom they have\nshewn marks of respect and submission: it has been sometimes believed\nthat the Chinese were atheists: but this is an error, due to the\nChristian missionaries, who are accustomed to treat all those as\natheists, who do not hold opinions similar with their own upon Divinity.\nIt always appears that the Chinese are a people extremely addicted\nto superstition, but that they are governed by chiefs who are not so,\nwithout however their being atheists for that reason. If the empire of\nChina be as flourishing as it is said to be, it at least furnishes\na very forcible proof that those who govern have no occasion to be\nthemselves superstitious, in order to govern with propriety a people\nwho are so. It is pretended that the Greenlanders have no idea of the\nDivinity. Nevertheless, it is difficult to believe it of a nation so\nsavage. Man, inasmuch as he is a fearful, ignorant animal, necessarily\nbecomes superstitious in his misfortunes: either he forms gods for\nhimself, or he admits the gods which others are disposed to give him;\nit does not then appear, that we can rationally suppose there may have\nbeen, or that there actually is, a people on the earth a total stranger\nto some Divinity. One will shew us the sun, the moon, or the stars; the\nother will shew us the sea, the lakes, the rivers, which furnish him his\nsubsistence, the trees which afford him an asylum against the inclemency\nof the weather; another will shew us a rock of an odd form; a lofty\nmountain; or a volcano that frequently astonishes him by its emission\nof lava; another will present you with his crocodile, whose malignity\nhe fears; his dangerous serpent, the reptile to which he attributes his\ngood or bad fortune. In short, each individual will make you behold his\nphantasm or his tutelary or domestic gods with respect.\n\nBut from the existence of his gods, the savage does not draw the same\ninductions as the civilized, polished man: the savage does not believe\nit a duty to reason continually upon their qualities; he does not\nimagine that they ought to influence his morals, nor entirely occupy his\nthoughts: content with a gross, simple, exterior worship, he does not\nbelieve that these invisible powers trouble themselves with his conduct\ntowards his fellow creatures; in short, he does not connect his morality\nwith his superstition. This morality is coarse, as must be that of all\nignorant people; it is proportioned to his wants, which are few; it\nis frequently irrational, because it is the fruit of ignorance; of\ninexperience; of the passions of men but slightly restrained, or to\nsay thus, in their infancy. It is only numerous, stationary, civilized\nsocieties, where man's wants are multiplied, where his interests clash,\nthat he is obliged to have recourse to government, to laws, to\npublic worship, in order to maintain concord. It is then, that men\napproximating, reason together, combine their ideas, refine their\nnotions, subtilize their theories; it is then also, that those who\ngovern them avail themselves of invisible powers, to keep them within\nbounds, to render them docile, to enforce their obedience, to oblige\nthem to live peaceably. It was thus, that by degrees, morals and\npolitics found themselves associated with superstitious systems. The\nchiefs of nations, frequently, themselves, the children of superstition,\nbut little enlightened upon their actual interests; slenderly versed\nin sound morality; with an extreme exilty of knowledge on the actuating\nmotives of the human heart; believed they had effected every thing\nrequisite for the stability of their own authority; as well as achieved\nall that could guarantee the repose of society, that could consolidate\nthe happiness of the people, in rendering their subjects superstitious\nlike themselves; by menacing them with the wrath of invisible powers; in\ntreating them like infants who are appeased with fables, like children\nwho are terrified by shadows. By the assistance of these marvellous\ninventions, to which even the chiefs, the conductors of nations, are\nthemselves frequently the dupes; which are transmitted as heirlooms from\nrace to race; sovereigns were dispensed from the trouble of instructing\nthemselves in their duties; they in consequence neglected the laws,\nenervated themselves in luxurious ease, rusted in sloth; followed\nnothing but their caprice: the care of restraining their subjects was\nreposed in their deities; the instruction of the people was confided to\ntheir priests, who were commissioned to train them to obedience, to make\nthem submissive, to render them devout, to teach them at an early age to\ntremble under the yoke of both the visible and invisible gods.\n\nIt was thus that nations, kept by their tutors in a perpetual state of\ninfancy, were only restrained by vain, chimerical theories. It was thus\nthat politics, jurisprudence, education, morality, were almost every\nwhere infected with superstition; that man no longer knew any duties,\nsave those which grew out of its precepts: the ideas of virtue were thus\nfalsely associated with those of imaginary systems, to which imposture\ngenerally gave that language which was most conducive to its own\nimmediate interests: mankind thus fully persuaded, that without these\nmarvellous systems, there could not exist any sound morality, princes,\nas well as subjects, equally blind to their actual interests, to the\nduties of nature, to their reciprocal rights, habituated themselves\nto consider superstition as necessary to mortals--as indispensibly\nrequisite to govern men--as the most effectual method of preserving\npower--as the most certain means of attaining happiness.\n\nIt is from these dispositions, of which we have so frequently\ndemonstrated the fallacy, that so many persons, otherwise extremely\nenlightened, look upon it as an impossibility that a society formed of\natheists, as they are termed, could subsist for any length of time. It\ndoes not admit a question, that a numerous society, who should neither\nhave religion, morality, government, laws, education, nor principles,\ncould not maintain itself; that it would simply congregate beings\ndisposed to injure each other, or children who would follow nothing but\nthe blindest impulse; but then is it not a lamentable fact, that with\nall the superstition that floats in the world, the greater number of\nhuman societies are nearly in this state? Are not the sovereigns\nof almost every country in a continual state of warfare with their\nsubjects? Are not the people, in despite of their superstition, not\nwithstanding the terrific notions which it holds forth, unceasingly\noccupied with reciprocally injuring each other; with rendering\nthemselves mutually unhappy? Does not superstition itself, with its\nsupernatural notions, unremittingly flatter the vanity of monarchs,\nunbridle the passions of princes, throw oil into the fire of discord,\nwhich it kindles between those citizens who are divided in their\nopinion? Could those infernal powers, who are supposed to be ever on the\nalert to mischief mankind, be capable of inflicting greater evils upon\nthe human race than spring from fanaticism, than arise out of the fury\nto which theology gives birth? Could atheists, however irrational they\nmay be supposed, if assembled together in society, conduct themselves\nin a more criminal manner? In short, is it possible they could act worse\nthan the superstitious, who, saturated with the most pernicious vices,\nguided by the most extravagant systems, during so many successive ages,\nhave done nothing more than torment themselves with the most cruel\ninflictions; savagely cut each other's throats, without a shadow of\nreason; make a merit of mutual extermination? It cannot be pretended\nthey would. On the contrary, we boldly assert, that a community of\natheists, as the theologian calls them, because they cannot fall in\nwith his mysteries, destitute of all superstition, governed by wholesome\nlaws, formed by a salutary education, invited to the practice of\nvirtue by instantaneous recompences, deterred from crime by immediate\npunishments, disentangled from illusive theories, unsophisticated by\nfalsehood, would be decidedly more honest, incalculably more virtuous,\nthan those superstitious societies, in which every thing contributes to\nintoxicate the mind; where every thing conspires to corrupt the heart.\n\nWhen we shall be disposed usefully to occupy ourselves with the\nhappiness of mankind, it is with superstition that the reform must\ncommence; it is by abstracting these imaginary theories, destined to\naffright the ignorant, who are completely in a state of infancy, that we\nshall be able to promise ourselves the desirable harvest of conducting\nman to a state of maturity. It cannot be too often repeated, there can\nbe no morality without consulting the nature of man, without studying\nhis actual relations with the beings of his own species; there can be\nno fixed principle for man's conduct, while it is regulated upon unjust\ntheories; upon capricious doctrines; upon corrupt systems; there can\nbe no sound politics without attending to human temperament, without\ncontemplating him as a being associated for the purpose of satisfying\nhis wants, consolidating his happiness, and assuring its enjoyment. No\nwise government can found itself upon despotic systems; they will always\nmake tyrants of their representatives. No laws can be wholesome, that\ndo not bottom themselves upon the strictest equity; which have not for\ntheir object the great end of human society. No jurisprudence can\nbe advantageous for nations, if its administration be regulated by\ncapricious systems, or by human passions deified. No education can be\nsalutary, unless it be founded upon reason; to be efficacious to its\nproposed end, it must neither be construed upon chimerical theories, nor\nupon received prejudices. In short, there can be no probity, no talents,\nno virtue, either under corrupt masters, or under the conduct of those\npriests who render man the enemy to himself--the determined foe\nto others; who seek to stifle in his bosom the germ of reason; who\nendeavour to smother science, or who try to damp his courage.\n\nIt will, perhaps, be asked, if we can reasonably flatter ourselves with\never reaching the point to make a whole people entirely forget their\nsuperstitious opinions; or abandon the ideas which they have of their\ngods? I reply, that the thing appears utterly impossible; that this is\nnot the end we can propose to ourselves. These ideas, inculcated from\nthe earliest ages, do not appear of a nature to admit eradication\nfrom the mind of the majority of mankind: it would, perhaps be equally\narduous to give them to those persons, who, arrived at a certain time of\nlife, should never have heard them spoken of, as to banish them from\nthe minds of those, who have been imbued with them from their tenderest\ninfancy. Thus, it cannot be reckoned possible to make a whole nation\npass from the abyss of superstition, that is to say, from the bosom of\nignorance, from the ravings of delirium, into absolute naturalism, or\nas the priests of superstition would denominate it, into atheism;\nwhich supposes reflection--requires intense study--demands extensive\nknowledge--exacts a long series of experience--includes the habit of\ncontemplating nature--the faculty of observing her laws; which, in\nshort, embraces the expansive science of the causes producing her\nvarious phenomena; her multiplied combinations, together with the\ndiversified actions of the beings she contains, as well as their\nnumerous properties. In order to be an atheist, or to be assured of\nthe capabilities of nature, it is imperative to have meditated\nher profoundly: a superficial glance of the eye will not bring man\nacquainted with her resources; optics but little practised on her\npowers, will unceasingly be deceived; the ignorance of actual causes\nwill always induce the supposition of those which are imaginary;\ncredulity will, thus re-conduct the natural philosopher himself to the\nfeet of superstitious phantoms, in which either his limited vision, or\nhis habitual sloth, will make him believe he shall find the solution to\nevery difficulty.\n\nAtheism, then, as well as philosophy, like all profound abstruse\nsciences, is not calculated for the vulgar; neither is it suitable\nto the great mass of mankind. There are, in all populous, civilized\nnations, persons whose circumstances enable them to devote their time\nto meditation, whose easy finances afford them leisure to make deep\nresearches into the nature of things, who frequently make useful\ndiscoveries, which, sooner or later, after they have been submitted\nto the infallible test of experience, when they have passed the fiery\nordeal of truth, extend widely their salutary effects, become extremely\nbeneficial to society, highly advantageous to individuals. The\ngeometrician, the chemist, the mechanic, the natural philosopher, the\ncivilian, the artizan himself, are industriously employed, either\nin their closets, or in their workshops, seeking the means to serve\nsociety, each in his sphere: nevertheless, not one of their sciences\nor professions are familiar to the illiterate; not one of the arts with\nwhich they are respectively occupied, are known to the uninitiated:\nthese, however, do not fail, in the long run, to profit by them, to reap\nsubstantive advantages from those labours, of which they themselves have\nno idea. It is for the mariner, that the astronomer explores his arduous\nscience; it is for him the geometrician calculates; for his use the\nmechanic plies his craft: it is for the mason, for the carpenter, for\nthe labourer, that the skilful architect studies his orders, lays down\nwell-proportioned elaborate plans. Whatever may be the pretended utility\nof Pneumatology, whatever may be the vaunted advantages of superstitious\nopinions, the wrangling polemic, the subtle theologian, cannot boast\neither of toiling, of writing, or of disputing for the advantage of the\npeople, whom, notwithstanding, he contrives to tax, very exorbitantly,\nfor those systems they can never understand; from whom he levies the\nmost oppressive contributions, as a remuneration for the detail of those\nmysteries, which under any possible circumstances, cannot, at any time\nwhatever, be of the slightest benefit to them. It is not, then, for the\nmultitude that a philosopher should propose to himself, either to write\nor to meditate: the Code of Nature, or the principles of atheism, as\nthe priest calls it, are not, as we have shewn, even calculated for\nthe meridian of a great number of persons, who are frequently too much\nprepossessed in favour of the received prejudices, although extremely\nenlightened on other points. It is extremely rare to find men, who, to\nan enlarged mind, extensive knowledge, great talents, join either a well\nregulated imagination, or the courage necessary to successfully oppugn\nhabitual errors; triumphantly to attack those chimerical systems, with\nwhich the brain has been inoculated from the first hour of its birth.\nA secret bias, an invincible inclination, frequently, in despite of all\nreasoning, re-conducts the most comprehensive, the best fortified, the\nmost liberal minds, to those prejudices which have a wide-spreading\nestablishment; of which they have themselves taken copious draughts\nduring the early stages of life. Nevertheless, those principles, which\nat first appear strange, which by their boldness seem revolting, from\nwhich timidity flies with trepidation, when they have the sanction\nof truth, gradually insinuate themselves into the human mind, become\nfamiliar to its exercise, extend their happy influence on every side,\nand finally produce the most substantive advantages to society. In time,\nmen habituate themselves to ideas which originally they looked upon\nas absurd; which on a superficial glance they contemplated as either\nnoxious or irrational: at least, they cease to consider those as odious,\nwho profess opinions upon subjects on which experience makes it evident\nthey may be permitted to have doubts, without imminent danger to public\ntranquillity.\n\nThen the diffusion of ideas among mankind is not an event to be dreaded:\nif they are truths, they will of necessity be useful: by degrees they\nwill fructify. The man who writes, must neither fix his eyes upon the\ntime in which he lives, upon his actual fellow citizens, nor upon the\ncountry he inhabits. He must speak to the human race; he must instruct\nfuture generations; he must extend his views into the bosom of futurity;\nin vain he will expect the eulogies of his contemporaries; in vain will\nhe flatter himself with seeing his reasoning adopted; in vain he\nwill soothe himself with the pleasing reflection, that his precocious\nprinciples will be received with kindness; if he has exhibited truisms,\nthe ages that shall follow will do justice to his efforts; unborn\nnations shall applaud his exertions; his future countrymen shall crown\nhis sturdy attempts with those laurels, which interested prejudice\nwithholds from him in his own days; it must therefore be from posterity,\nhe is to expect the need of applause due to his services; the present\nrace is hermetically sealed against him: meantime let him content\nhimself with having done well; with the secret suffrages of those few\nfriends to veracity who are so thinly spread over the surface of the\nearth. It is after his death, that the trusty reasoner, the faithful\nwriter, the promulgator of sterling principles, the child of simplicity,\ntriumphs; it is then that the stings of hatred, the shafts of envy, the\narrows of malice, either exhausted or blunted, enable mankind to judge\nwith impartiality; to yield to conviction; to establish eternal truth\nupon its own imperishable altars, which from its essence must survive\nall the error of the earth. It is then that calumny, crushed like the\ndevouring snail by the careful gardener, ceases to besmear the character\nof an honest man, while its venomous slime, glazed by the sun, enables\nthe observant spectator to trace the filthy progress it had made.\n\nIt is a problem with many people, _if truth may not be injurious?_\nThe best intentioned persons are frequently in great doubt upon this\nimportant point. The fact is, _it never injures any but those who\ndeceive mankind_: this has, however, the greatest interest in being\nundeceived. Truth may be injurious to the individual who announces it,\nbut it can never by any possibility harm the human species; never can it\nbe too distinctly presented to beings, always either little disposed to\nlisten to its dictates, or too slothful to comprehend its efficacy. If\nall those who write to publish important truths, which, of all others,\nare ever considered the most dangerous, were sufficiently ardent for the\npublic welfare to speak freely, even at the risk of displeasing their\nreaders, the human race would be much more enlightened, much happier\nthan it now is. To write in ambiguous terms, is very frequently to\nwrite to nobody. The human mind is idle; we must spare it, as much\nas possible, the trouble of reflection; we must relieve it from the\nembarrassment of intense thinking. What time does it not consume,\nwhat study does it not require, at the present day, to unravel the\namphibological oracles of the ancient philosophers, whose actual\nsentiments are almost entirely lost to the present race of men? If truth\nbe useful to human beings, it is an injustice to deprive them of\nits advantages; if truth ought to be admitted, we must admit its\nconsequences, which are also truths. Man, taken generally, is fond of\ntruth, but its consequences often inspire him with so much dread, so\nalarm his imbecility, that, frequently, he prefers remaining in error,\nof which a confirmed habit prevents him from feeling the deplorable\neffects. Besides, we shall say with Hobbes, \"that we cannot do men any\nharm by proposing truth to them; the worst mode is to leave them in\ndoubt, to let them remain in dispute.\" If an author who writes be\ndeceived, it is because he may have reasoned badly. Has he laid down\nfalse principles? It remains to examine them. Is his system fallacious?\nIs it ridiculous? It will serve to make truth appear with the greatest\nsplendor: his work will fall into contempt; the writer, if he be witness\nto its fall, will be sufficiently punished for his temerity; if he\nbe defunct, the living cannot disturb his ashes. No man writes with a\ndesign to injure his fellow creatures; he always proposes to himself\nto merit their suffrages, either by amusing them, by exciting their\ncuriosity, or by communicating to them discoveries, which he believes\nuseful. Above all, no work can be really dangerous, if it contains\ntruth. It would not be so, even if it contained principles evidently\ncontrary to experience--opposed to good sense. Indeed, what would\nresult from a work that should now tell us the sun is not luminous; that\nparricide is legitimate; that robbery is allowable; that adultery is not\na crime? The smallest reflection would make us feet the falsity of these\nprinciples; the whole human race would protest against them. Men would\nlaugh at the folly of the author; presently his book, together with his\nname, would be known only by its ridiculous extravagancies. There is\nnothing but superstitious follies that are pernicious to mortals; and\nwherefore? It is because authority always pretends to establish them by\nviolence; to make them pass for substantive virtues; rigorously punishes\nthose who shall be disposed to smile at their inconsistency, or examine\ninto their pretensions. If man was more rational, he would examine\nsuperstitious opinions as he examines every thing else; he would look\nupon theological theories with the same eyes that he contemplates\nsystems of natural philosophy, or problems in geometry: the latter never\ndisturbs the repose of society, although they sometimes excite very\nwarm disputes in the learned world. Theological quarrels would never\nbe attended with any evil consequences, if man could gain the desirable\npoint of making those who exercise power, feel that the disputes of\npersons, who do not themselves understand the marvellous questions upon\nwhich they never cease wrangling, ought not to give birth to any other\nsensations than those of indifference; to rouse no other passion than\nthat of contempt.\n\nIt is, at least, this indifference not speculative theories, so just, so\nrational, so advantageous for states, that sound philosophy may propose\nto introduce, gradually, upon the earth. Would not the human race be\nmuch happier--if the sovereigns of the world, occupied with the welfare\nof their subjects, leaving to superstitious theologians their futile\ncontests, making their various systems yield to healthy politics;\nobliged these haughty ministers to become citizens; carefully prevented\ntheir disputes from interrupting the public tranquillity? What advantage\nmight there not result to science; what a start would be given to the\nprogress of the human mind, to the cause of sound morality, to\nthe advancement of equitable jurisprudence, to the improvement of\nlegislation, to the diffusion of education, from an unlimited freedom\nof thought? At present, genius every where finds trammels; superstition\ninvariably opposes itself to its course; man, straitened with bandages,\nscarcely enjoys the free use of any one of his faculties; his mind\nitself is cramped; it appears continually wrapped up in the swaddling\nclothes of infancy. The civil power, leagued with spiritual domination,\nappears only disposed to rule over brutalized slaves, shut up in a dark\nprison, where they reciprocally goad each other with the efferverscence\nof their mutual ill humour. Sovereigns, in general, detest liberty\nof thought, because they fear truth; this appears formidable to them,\nbecause it would condemn their excesses; these irregularities are dear\nto them, because they do not, better than their subjects, understand\ntheir true interests; properly considered, these ought to blend\nthemselves into one uniform mass.\n\nLet not the courage of the philosopher, however, be abated by so many\nunited obstacles, which would appear for ever to exclude truth from its\nproper dominion; to banish reason from the mind of man; to spoil nature\nof her imprescriptible rights. The thousandth part of those cares which\nare bestowed to infect the human mind, would be amply sufficient to make\nit whole. Let us not, then, despair of the case: do not let us do man\nthe injury to believe that truth is not made for him; his mind seeks\nafter it incessantly; his heart desires it faithfully; his happiness\ndemands it with an imperious voice; he only either fears it, or mistakes\nit, because superstition, which has thrown all his ideas into confusion,\nperpetually keeps the bandeau of delusion fast bound over his eyes;\nstrives, with an almost irresistible force, to render him an entire\nstranger to virtue.\n\nMaugre the prodigious exertions that are made to drive truth from the\nearth; in spite of the extraordinary pains used to exile reason--of\nthe uninterrupted efforts to expel true science from the residence of\nmortals; time, assisted by the progressive knowledge of ages, may one\nday be able to enlighten even those princes who are the most outrageous\nin their opposition to the illumination of the human mind; who appear\nsuch decided enemies to justice, so very determined against the\nliberties of mankind. Destiny will, perhaps, when least expected,\nconduct these wandering outcasts to the throne of some enlightened,\nequitable, courageous, generous, benevolent sovereign, who, smitten with\nthe charms of virtue, shall throw aside duplicity, frankly acknowledge\nthe true source of human misery, and apply to it those remedies with\nwhich wisdom has furnished him: perhaps he may feel, that those systems,\nfrom whence it is pretended he derives his power, are the true scourges\nof his people; the actual cause of his own weakness: that the official\nexpounders of these systems are his most substantial enemies--his most\nformidable rivals; he may find that superstition, which he has been\ntaught to look upon as the main support to his authority, in point\nof fact only enfeebles it--renders it tottering: that superstitious\nmorality, false in its principles, is only calculated to pervert his\nsubjects; to break down their intrepidity; to render them perfidious;\nin short, to give them the vices of slaves, in lieu of the virtues\nof citizens. A prince thus disentangled from prejudice, will perhaps\nbehold, in superstitious errors, the fruitful source of human sorrows,\nand commiserations, the condition of his race, it may be, will\ngenerously declare, that they are incompatible with every equitable\nadministration.\n\nUntil this epoch, so desirable for humanity, shall arrive, the\nprinciples of naturalism will be adopted only by a small number of\nliberal-minded men, who shall dive below the surface; these cannot\nflatter themselves either with making proselytes, or having a great\nnumber of approvers: on the contrary, they will meet with zealous\nadversaries, with ardent contemners, even in those persons who upon\nevery other subject discover the most acute minds; display the most\nconsummate knowledge. Those men who possess the greatest share of\nability, as we have already observed, cannot always resolve to divorce\nthemselves completely from their superstitious ideas; imagination,\nso necessary to splendid talents, frequently forms in them an\ninsurmountable obstacle to the total extinction of prejudice; this\ndepends much more upon the judgment than upon the mind. To this\ndisposition, already so prompt to form illusions to them, is also to\nbe joined the force of habit; to a great number of men, it would\nhe wresting from them a portion of themselves to take away their\nsuperstitious notions; it would be depriving them of an accustomed\naliment; plunging them into a dreadful vacuum: obliging their\ndistempered minds to perish for want of exercise. Menage remarks, \"that\nhistory speaks of very few incredulous women, or female atheists:\"\nthis is not surprising; their organization renders them fearful; their\nnervous system undergoes periodical variations; the education they\nreceive disposes them to credulity. Those among them who have a sound\nconstitution, who have a well ordered imagination, have occasion for\nchimeras suitable to occupy their leisure; above all, when the world\nabandons them, then superstitious devotion, with its attractive\nceremonies, becomes either a business or an amusement.\n\nLet us not be surprised, if very intelligent, extremely learned men,\neither obstinately shut their eyes, or run counter to their ordinary\nsagacity, every time there is a question respecting an object which they\nhave not the courage to examine with that attention they lend to many\nothers. Lord Chancellor Bacon pretends, \"that a little philosophy\ndisposes men to atheism, but that great depth re-conducts them to\nreligion.\" If we analyze this proposition, we shall find it signifies,\nthat even moderate, indifferent thinkers, are quickly enabled to\nperceive the gross absurdities of superstition; but that very little\naccustomed to meditate, or else destitute of those fixed principles\nwhich could serve them for a guide, their imagination presently replaces\nthem in the theological labyrinth, from whence reason, too weak for the\npurpose, appeared disposed to withdraw them: these timid souls, who fear\nto take courage, with minds disciplined to be satisfied with theological\nsolutions, no longer see in nature any thing but an inexplicable enigma;\nan abyss which it is impossible for them to fathom: these, habituated to\nfix their eyes upon an ideal, mathematical point, which they have made\nthe centre of every thing, whenever they lose sight of it, find the\nuniverse becomes an unintelligible jumble to them; then the confusion in\nwhich they feel themselves involved, makes them rather prefer returning\nto the prejudices of their infancy, which appear to explain every thing,\nthan to float in the vacuum, or quit a foundation which they judge to\nbe immoveable. Thus the proposition of Bacon should seem, to indicate\nnothing, except it be that the most experienced persons cannot at all\ntimes defend themselves against the illusions of their imagination; the\nimpetuosity of which resists the strongest reasoning.\n\nNevertheless, a deliberate study of nature is sufficient to undeceive\nevery man who will calmly consider things: he will discover that the\nphenomena of the world is connected by links, invisible to superficial\nnotice, equally concealed from the too impetuous observer, but extremely\nintelligible to him who views her with serenity. He will find that the\nmost unusual, the most marvellous, as well as the most trifling, or\nordinary effects, are equally inexplicable, but that they all equally\nflow from natural causes; that supernatural causes, under whatever name\nthey way be designated, with whatever qualities they may be decorated,\nwill never do more than increase difficulties; will only make chimeras\nmultiply. The simplest observation will incontestibly prove to him\nthat every thing is necessary; that all the effects he perceives are\nmaterial; that they can only originate in causes of the same nature,\nwhen he even shall not be able to recur to them by the assistance of his\nsenses. Thus his mind, properly directed, every where show him nothing\nbut matter, sometimes acting in a manner which his organs permit him to\nfollow, at others in a mode imperceptible by the faculties he possesses:\nhe will see that all beings follow constant invariable laws, by which\nall combinations are united and destroyed; he will find that all forms\nchange, but that, nevertheless, the great whole ever remains the same.\nThus, cured of the idle notions with which he was imbued, undeceived\nin those erroneous ideas, which from habit be attached to imaginary\nsystems, he will cheerfully consent to be ignorant of whatever his\norgans do not enable him to compass; he will know that obscure terms,\ndevoid of sense, are not calculated to explain difficulties; guided\nby reason, he will throw aside all hypothesis of the imagination; the\nchampion of rectitude, he will attach himself to realities, which are\nconfirmed by experience, which are evidenced by truth.\n\nThe greater number of those who study nature, frequently do not\nconsider, that prejudiced eyes will never discover more than that which\nthey have previously determined to find: as soon as they perceive facts\ncontrary to their own ideas, they quickly turn aside, and believe their\nvisual organs have deceived them; if they return to the task, it is in\nhopes to find means by which they may reconcile the facts to the\nnotions with which their own mind is previously tinctured. Thus we find\nenthusiastic philosophers, whose determined prepossession shews them\nwhat they denominate incontestible evidences of the systems with which\nthey are pre-occupied, even in those things, that most openly contradict\ntheir hypothesis: hence those pretended demonstrations of the existence\nof theories, which are drawn from final causes--from the order of\nnature--from the kindness evinced to man, &c. Do these same enthusiasts\nperceive disorder, witness calamities? They induct new proofs of the\nwisdom, fresh evidence of the intelligence, additional testimony to\nthe bounty of their system, whilst all these occurrences as visibly\ncontradict these qualities, as the first seem to confirm or to establish\nthem. These prejudiced observers are in an ecstacy at the sight of the\nperiodical motions of the planets; at the order of the stars; at the\nvarious productions of the earth; at the astonishing harmony in the\ncomponent parts of animals: in that moment, however, they forget the\nlaws of motion; the powers of gravitation; the force of attraction and\nrepulsion; they assign all these striking phenomena to unknown causes,\nof which they have no one substantive idea. In short, in the fervor of\ntheir imagination they place man in the centre of nature; they believe\nhim to be the object, the end, of all that exists; that it is for his\nconvenience every thing is made; that it is to rejoice his mind, to\npleasure his senses, that the whole was created; whilst they do not\nperceive, that very frequently the entire of nature appears to be loosed\nagainst his weakness; that the elements themselves overwhelm him with\ncalamity; that destiny obstinately persists in rendering him the most\nmiserable of beings. The progress of sound philosophy will always be\nfatal to superstition, whose notions will be continually contradicted by\nnature.\n\nAstronomy has caused judiciary astrology to vanish; experimental\nphilosophy, the study of natural history and chemistry, have rendered\nit impossible for jugglers, priests or sorcerers, any longer to perform\nmiracles. Nature, profoundly studied, must necessarily cause the\noverthrow of those chimerical theories, which ignorance has substituted\nto her powers.\n\nAtheism, as it is termed, is only so rare, because every thing conspires\nto intoxicate man with a dazzling enthusiasm, from his most tender age;\nto inflate him from his earliest infancy, with systematic error, with\norganized ignorance, which of all others is the most difficult to\nvanquish, the most arduous to root out. Theology is nothing more than a\nscience of words, which by dint of repetition we accustom ourselves to\nsubstitute for things: as soon as we feel disposed to analyze them, we\nare astonished to find they do not present us with any actual sense.\nThere are, in the whole world, very few men who think deeply: who render\nto themselves a faithful account of their own ideas; who have keen\npenetrating minds. Justness of intellect is one of the rarest gifts\nwhich nature bestows on the human species. It is not, however, to be\nunderstood by this, that nature has any choice in the formation of\nher beings; it is merely to be considered, that the circumstances very\nrarely occur which enable the junction of a certain quantity of\nthose atoms or parts, necessary to form the human machine in such due\nproportions, that one disposition shall not overbalance the others; and\nthus render the judgment erroneous, by giving it a particular bias.\nWe know the general process of making gunpowder; nevertheless, it will\nsometimes happen that the ingredients have been so happily blended, that\nthis destructive article is of a superior quality to the general produce\nof the manufactory, without, however, the chemist being on that account\nentitled to any particular commendation; circumstances have been\ndecidedly favorable, and these seldom occur. Too lively an imagination,\nan over eager curiosity, are as powerful obstacles to the discovery of\ntruth, as too much phlegm, a slow conception, indolence of mind, or\nthe want of a thinking habit: all men have more or less imagination,\ncuriosity, phlegm, bile, indolence, activity: it is from the happy\nequilibrium which nature has observed in their organization, that\ndepends that invaluable blessing, correctness of mind. Nevertheless,\nas we have heretofore said, the organic structure of man is subject\nto change; the accuracy of his mind varies with the mutations of his\nmachine: from hence may be traced those almost perpetual revolutions\nthat take place in the ideas of mortals; above all when there is a\nquestion concerning those objects, upon which experience does not\nfurnish any fixed basis whereon to rest their merits.\n\nTo search after right, to discover truth, requires a keen, penetrating,\njust, active mind; because every thing strives to conceal from us its\nbeauties: it needs an upright heart, one in good faith with itself,\njoined to an imagination tempered with reason, because our habitual\nfears make us frequently dread its radiance, sometimes bursting like a\nmeteor on our darkened faculties; besides, it not unfrequently happens,\nthat we are actually the accomplices of those who lead us astray, by an\ninclination we too often manifest to dissimilate with ourselves on this\nimportant measure. Truth never reveals itself either to the enthusiast\nsmitten with his own reveries; to the fellifluous fanatic enslaved\nby his prejudices; to the vain glorious mortal puffed up with his own\npresumptuous ignorance; to the voluptuary devoted to his pleasures; or\nto the wily reasoner, who, disingenuous with himself, has a peculiar\nspontaneity to form illusions to his mind. Blessed, however, with a\nheart, gifted with a mind such as described, man will surely discover\nthis _rara avis:_ thus constituted, the attentive philosopher, the\ngeometrician, the moralist, the politician, the theologian himself, when\nhe shall sincerely seek truth, will find that the corner-stone which\nserves for the foundation of all superstitious systems, is evidently\nrested upon fiction. The philosopher will discover in matter a\nsufficient cause for its existence; he will perceive that its motion,\nits combination, its modes of acting, are always regulated by general\nlaws, incapable of variation. The geometrician, without quiting nature,\nwill calculate the active force of matter; it will then become obvious\nto him, that to explain its phenomena, it is by no means necessary to\nhave recourse to that which is incommensurable with all known powers.\nThe politician, instructed in the true spring which can act upon the\nmind of nations, will feel distinctly, that it is not imperative to\nrecur to imaginary theories, whilst there are actual motives to\ngive play to the volition of the citizens; to induce them to labour\nefficaciously to the maintenance of their association; he will readily\nacknowledge that fictitious systems are calculated either to slaken the\nexertions, or to disturb the motion of so complicated a machine an human\nsociety. He who shall more honor truth than the vain subtilities of\ntheology, will quickly perceive that this pompous science is nothing\nmore than an unintelligible jumble of false hypothesis; that it\ncontinually begs its principles; is full of sophisms; contains only\nvitiated circles; embraces the most subdolous distinctions; is ushered\nto mankind by the most disingenuous arguments, from which it is not\npossible, under any given circumstances, there should result any thing\nbut puerilities--the most endless disputes. In short, all men who\nhave sound ideas of morality, whose notions of virtue are correct, who\nunderstand what is useful to the human being in society, whether it be\nto conserve himself individually, or the body of which he is a member,\nwill acknowledge, that in order to discover his relations, to ascertain\nhis duties, he has only to consult his own nature; that he ought to be\nparticularly careful neither to found them upon discrepant systems, nor\nto borrow them from models that never can do more than disturb his mind;\nthat will only render his conduct fluctuating; that will leave him for\never uncertain of its proper character.\n\nThus, every rational thinker, who renounces his prejudices, will be\nenabled to feel the inutility, to comprehend the fallacy of so many\nabstract systems; he will perceive that they have hitherto answered\nno other purpose than to confound the notions of mankind; to render\ndoubtful the clearest truths. In quitting the regions of the empyreum,\nwhere his mind can only bewilder itself, in re-entering his proper\nsphere, in consulting reason, man will discover that of which he\nneeds the knowledge; he will be able to undeceive himself upon those\nchimerical theories, which enthusiasm has substituted for actual natural\ncauses; to detect those figments, by which imposture has almost every\nwhere superseded the real motives that can give activity in nature; out\nof which the human mind never rambles, without going woefully astray;\nwithout laying the foundation of future misery.\n\nThe Deicolists, as well as the theologians, continually reproach their\nadversaries with their taste for paradoxes--with their attachment to\nsystems; whilst they themselves found all their reasoning upon imaginary\nhypothesis--upon visionary theories; make a principle of submitting\ntheir understanding to the yoke of authority; of renouncing experience;\nof setting down as nothing the evidence of their senses. Would it not\nbe justifiable in the disciples of nature, to say to these men, who thus\ndespise her, \"We only assure ourselves of that which we see; we yield to\nnothing but evidence; if we have a system, it is one founded upon\nfacts; we perceive in ourselves, we behold every where else, nothing\nbut matter; we therefore conclude from it that matter can both feel\nand think: we see that the motion of the universe is operated after\nmechanical laws; that the whole results from the properties, is the\neffect of the combination, the immediate consequence of the modification\nof matter; thus, we are content, we seek no other explication of the\nphenomena which nature presents. We conceive only an unique world, in\nwhich every thing is connected; where each effect is linked to a natural\ncause, either known or unknown, which it produces according to necessary\nlaws; we affirm nothing that is not demonstrable; nothing that you are\nnot obliged to admit as well as ourselves: the principles we lay down\nare distinct: they are self-evident: they are facts. If we find\nsome things unintelligible, if causes frequently become arduous, we\ningenuously agree to their obscurity; that is to say, to the limits\nof our own knowledge. But in order to explain these effects, we do not\nimagine an hypothesis; we either consent to be for ever ignorant\nof them, or else we wait patiently until time, experience, with the\nprogress of the human mind, shall throw them into light: is not, then,\nour manner of philosophizing consistent with truth? Indeed, in whatever\nwe advance upon the subject of nature, we proceed precisely in the same\nmanner as our opponents themselves pursue in all the other sciences,\nsuch as natural history, experimental philosophy, mathematics,\nchemistry, &c. We scrupulously confine ourselves to what comes to our\nknowledge through the medium of our senses; the only instruments with\nwhich nature has furnished us to discover truth. What is the conduct of\nour adversaries? In order to expound things of which they are ignorant,\nthey imagine theories still more incomprehensible than what they are\ndesirous to explain; theories of which they themselves are obliged to\nacknowledge they have not the most slender notion. Thus they invert the\ntrue principles of logic, which require we should proceed gradually from\nthat which is most known, to that with which we are least acquainted.\nAgain, upon what do they found the existence of these theories, by whose\naid they pretend to solve all difficulties? It is upon the universal\nignorance of mankind; upon the inexperience of man; upon his fears; upon\nhis disordered imagination; upon a pretended _intimate sense_, which in\nreality is nothing more than the effect of vulgar prejudice; the result\nof dread; the consequence of the want of a reflecting habit, which\ninduces them to crouch to the opinions of others; to be guided by the\nmandates of authority, rather than take the trouble to examine for their\nown information. Such, O theologians! are the ruinous foundations upon\nwhich you erect the superstructure of your doctrine. Accordingly, you\nfind it impossible to form to yourselves any distinct idea of those\ntheories which serve for the basis of your systems; you are unable to\ncomprehend either their attributes, their existence, the nature of their\nlocalities, or their mode of action. Thus, even by your own confession,\nye are in a state of profound ignorance, on the primary elements of that\nwhich ye constitute the cause of all that exists: of which, according\nto your own account, it is imperative to have a correct knowledge.\nUnder whatever point of view, therefore, ye are contemplated, it must be\nadmitted ye are the founders of aerial systems; of fanciful theories:\nof all systematizers, ye are consequently the most absurd; because in\nchallenging your imagination to create a cause, this cause, at least,\nought to diffuse light over the whole; it would be upon this condition\nalone that its incomprehensibility could be pardonable; but to speak\ningenuously, does this cause serve to explain any thing? Does it make us\nconceive more clearly the origin of the world; bring us more distinctly\nacquainted with the actual nature of man; does it more intelligibly\nelucidate the faculties of the soul; or point out with more perspicuity\nthe source of good and evil? No! unquestionably: these subtle\ntheories explain nothing, although they multiply to infinity their own\ndifficulties; they, in fact, embarrass elucidation, by plunging into\ngreater obscurity those matters in which they are interposed. Whatever\nmay be the question agitated, it becomes complicated: as soon as these\ntheories are introduced, they envelope the most demonstrable sciences\nwith a thick, impenetrable mist; render the most simple notions complex;\ngive opacity to the most diaphanous ideas; turn the most evident\nopinions into insolvable enigmas. What exposition of morality does the\ntheories, upon which ye found all the virtue, present to man? Do not\nall your oracles breathe inconsistency? Does not your doctrines embrace\nevery gradation of character, however discrepant: every known property,\nhowever opposed. All your ingenious systems, all your mysteries, all the\nsubtilties which ye have invented, are they capable of reconciling that\ndiscordant assemblage of amiable and unamiable qualities, with which\nye have dressed up your figments? In short, is it not by these theories\nthat ye disturb the harmony of the universe; is it not in their name\nye follow up your barbarous proscriptions; in their support, that ye\nso inhumanly exterminate all who refuse to subscribe to your organized\nreveries; who withhold assent to those efforts of the imagination which\nye have collectively decorated with the pompous name of religion; but\nwhich, individually, ye brand as superstition, always excepting that to\nwhich ye lend yourselves. Agree, then, O Theologians! Acknowledge,\nthen, ye subtle metaphysicians! Consent, then, ye organizers of fanciful\ntheories! that not only are ye systematically absurd, but also that ye\nfinish by being atrocious; because whenever ye obtain the ascendancy one\nover the other, your unfortunate pre-eminence is distinguished by the\nmost malevolent persecution; your domination is ushered in with cruelty;\nyour career is described with blood: from the importance which your own\ninterest attaches to your ruinous dogmas; from the pride with which ye\ntumble down the less fortunate systems of those who started with you for\nthe prize of plunder; _from that savage ferocity, under which ye\nequally overwhelm human reason, the happiness of the individual, and the\nfelicity of nations._\"\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAP. XIV.\n\n_A Summary of the Code of Nature_.\n\n\nTruth is the only object worthy the research of every wise man; since\nthat which is false cannot be useful to him: whatever constantly injures\nhim cannot be founded upon truth; consequently, ought to be for ever\nproscribed. It is, then, to assist the human mind, truly to labour for\nhis happiness, to point out to him the clew by which he may extricate\nhimself from those frightful labyrinths in which his imagination\nwanders; from those sinuosities whose devious course makes him err,\nwithout ever finding a termination to his incertitude. Nature alone,\nknown through experience, can furnish him with this desirable thread;\nher eternal energies can alone supply the means of attacking the\nMinotaur; of exterminating the figments of hypocrisy; of destroying\nthose monsters, who during so many ages, have devoured the unhappy\nvictims, which the tyranny of the ministers of Moloch have exacted as\na cruel tribute from affrighted mortals. By steadily grasping this\ninestimable clew, rendered still more precious by the beauty of the\ndonor, man can never be led astray--will never ramble out of his course;\nbut if, careless of its invaluable properties, for a single instant he\nsuffers it to drop from his hand; if, like another Theseus, ungrateful\nfor the favour, he abandons the fair bestower, he will infallibly fall\nagain into his ancient wanderings; most assuredly become the prey to the\ncannibal offspring of the White Bull. In vain shall he carry his views\nabove his head, to find resources which are at his feet; so long as man,\ninfatuated with his superstitious notions, shall seek in an imaginary\nworld the rule of his earthly conduct, he will be without principles;\nwhile he shall pertinaciously contemplate the regions of a distempered\nfancy, so long he will grope in those where he actually finds himself;\nhis uncertain steps will never encounter the welfare he desires; never\nlead him to that repose after which he so ardently sighs, nor conduct\nhim to that surety which is so decidedly requisite to consolidate his\nhappiness.\n\nBut man, blinded by his prejudices; rendered obstinate in injuring his\nfellow, by his enthusiasm; ranges himself in hostility even against\nthose who are sincerely desirous of procuring for him the most\nsubstantive benefits. Accustomed to be deceived, he is in a state of\ncontinual suspicion; habituated to mistrust himself, to view his reason\nwith diffidence, to look upon truth as dangerous, he treats as enemies\neven those who most eagerly strive to encourage him; forewarned in early\nlife against delusion, by the subtilty of imposture, he believes himself\nimperatively called upon to guard with the most sedulous activity the\nbandeau with which they have hoodwinked him; he thinks his eternal\nwelfare involved in keeping it for ever over his eyes; he therefore\nwrestles with all those who attempt to tear it from his obscured optics.\nIf his visual organs, accustomed to darkness, are for a moment opened,\nthe light offends them; he is distressed by its effulgence; he thinks it\ncriminal to be enlightened; he darts with fury upon those who hold the\nflambeau by which he is dazzled. In consequence, the atheist, as the\narch rogue from whom he differs ludicrously calls him, is looked upon as\na malignant pest, as a public poison, which like another Upas, destroys\nevery thing within the vortex of its influence; he who dares to arouse\nmortals from the lethargic habit which the narcotic doses administered\nby the theologians have induced passes for a perturbator; he who\nattempts to calm their frantic transports, to moderate the fury of\ntheir maniacal paroxysms, is himself viewed as a madman, who ought to\nbe closely chained down in the dungeons appropriated to lunatics; he\nwho invites his associates to rend their chains asunder, to break their\ngalling fetters, appears only like an irrational, inconsiderate being,\neven to the wretched captives themselves: who have been taught to\nbelieve that nature formed them for no other purpose than to tremble:\nonly called them into existence that they might be loaded with shackles.\nIn consequence of these fatal prepossessions, the _Disciple of Nature_\nis generally treated as an assassin; is commonly received by his fellow\ncitizens in the same manner as the feathered race receive the doleful\nbird of night, which as soon as it quits its retreat, all the other\nbirds follow with a common hatred, uttering a variety of doleful cries.\n\nNo, mortals blended by terror! The friend of nature is not your enemy;\nits interpreter is not the minister of falsehood; the destroyer of your\nvain phantoms is not the devastator of those truths necessary to your\nhappiness; the disciple of reason is not an irrational being, who either\nseeks to poison you, or to infect you with a dangerous delirium. If\nhe is desirous to wrest the thunder from those terrible theories that\naffright ye, it is that ye way discontinue your march, in the midst\nof storms, over roads that ye can only distinguish by the sudden, but\nevanescent glimmerings of the electric fluid. If he breaks those idols,\nwhich fear has served with myrrh and frankencense--which superstition\nhas surrounded by gloomy despondency--which fanaticism has imbrued with\nblood; it is to substitute in their place those consoling truths that\nare calculated to heal the desperate wounds ye have received; that are\nsuitable to inspire you with courage, sturdily to oppose yourselves\nto such dangerous errors; that have power to enable you to resist such\nformidable enemies. If he throws down the temples, overturns the altars,\nso frequently bathed with the bitter tears of the unfortunate, blackened\nby the most cruel sacrifices, smoked with servile incense, it is that he\nmay erect a fane sacred to peace; a hall dedicated to reason; a durable\nmonument to virtue, in which ye may at all times find an asylum against\nyour own phrenzy; a refuge from your own ungovernable passions; a\nsanctuary against those powerful dogmatists, by whom ye are oppressed.\nIf he attacks the haughty pretensions of deified tyrants, who crush ye\nwith an iron sceptre, it is that ye may enjoy the rights of your nature;\nit is to the end that ye may be substantively freemen, in mind as well\nas in body; that ye may not be slaves, eternally chained to the oar of\nmisery; it is that ye may at length be governed by men who are citizens,\nwho may cherish their own semblances, who way protect mortals like\nthemselves, who may actually consult the interests of those from\nwhom they hold their power. If he battles with imposture, it is to\nre-establish truth in those rights which have been so long usurped by\nfiction. If he undermines the base of that unsteady, fanatical morality,\nwhich has hitherto done nothing more than perplex your minds, without\ncorrecting your hearts; it is to give to ethics an immovable basis, a\nsolid foundation, secured upon your own nature; upon the reciprocity of\nthose wants which are continually regenerating in sensible beings: dare,\nthen, to listen to his voice; you will find it much more intelligible\nthan those ambiguous oracles, which are announced to you as the\noffspring of capricious theories; as imperious decrees that are\nunceasingly at variance with themselves. Listen then to nature, she\nnever contradicts her own eternal laws.\n\n\"O thou!\" cries this nature to man, \"who, following the impulse I\nhave given you, during your whole existence, incessantly tend towards\nhappiness, do not strive to resist my sovereign law. Labour to your own\nfelicity; partake without fear of the banquet which is spread before\nyou, with the most hearty welcome; you will find the means legibly\nwritten on your own heart. Vainly dost thou, O superstitious being! seek\nafter thine happiness beyond the limits of the universe, in which my\nhand hath placed thee: vainly shalt thou search it in those inexorable\ntheories, which thine imagination, ever prone to wander, would establish\nupon my eternal throne: vainly dost thou expect it in those fanciful\nregions, to which thine own delirium hath given a locality and a shame:\nvainly dost thou reckon upon capricious systems, with whose advantages\nthou art in such ecstasies; whilst they only fill thine abode with\ncalamity--thine heart with dread--thy mind with illusions--thy bosom\nwith groans. Know that when thou neglectest my counsels, the gods will\nrefuse their aid. Dare, then, to affranchise thyself from the trammels\nof superstition, my self-conceited, pragmatic rival, who mistakes\nmy rights; renounce those empty theories, which are usurpers of my\nprivileges; return under the dominion of my laws, which, however severe,\nare mild in comparison with those of bigotry. It is in my empire\nalone that true liberty reigns. Tyranny is unknown to its soil; equity\nunceasingly watches over the rights of all my subjects, maintains\nthem in the possession of their just claims; benevolence, grafted upon\nhumanity, connects them by amicable bonds; truth enlightens them; never\ncan imposture blind them with his obscuring mists. Return, then,\nmy child, to thy fostering mother's arms! Deserter, trace back thy\nwandering steps to nature! She will console thee for thine evils; she\nwill drive from thine heart those appalling fears which overwhelm thee;\nthose inquietudes that distract thee; those transports which agitate\nthee; those hatreds that separate thee from thy fellow man, whom thou\nshouldst love as thyself. Return to nature, to humanity, to thyself!\nStrew flowers over the road of life: cease to contemplate the future;\nlive to thine own happiness; exist for thy fellow creatures; retire into\nthyself, examine thine own heart, then consider the sensitive beings by\nwhom thou art surrounded: leave to their inventors those systems which\ncan effect nothing towards thy felicity. Enjoy thyself, and cause others\nalso to enjoy, those comforts which I have placed with a liberal hand,\nfor all the children of the earth; who all equally emanate from my\nbosom: assist them to support the sorrows to which necessity has\nsubmitted them in common with thyself. Know, that I approve thy\npleasures, when without injuring thyself, they are not fatal to thy\nbrethren, whom I have rendered indispensably necessary to thine own\nindividual happiness. These pleasures are freely permitted thee, if thou\nindulgest them with moderation; with that discretion which I myself have\nfixed. Be happy, then, O man! Nature invites thee to participate in it;\nbut always remember, thou canst not be so alone; because I invite all\nmortals to happiness as well as thyself; thou will find it is only in\nsecuring their felicity that thou canst consolidate thine own. Such is\nthe decree of thy destiny: if thou shalt attempt to withdraw thyself\nfrom its operation, recollect that hatred will pursue thee; vengeance\novertake thy steps; and remorse be ever ready at hand to punish the\ninfractions of its irrevocable mandates.\n\n\"Follow then, O man! in whatever station thou findest thyself, the\nroutine I have described for thee, to obtain that happiness to which\nthou hast an indispensable right to challenge pretension. Let the\nsensations of humanity interest thee for the condition of other men, who\nare thy fellow creatures; let thine heart have commisseration for their\nmisfortunes: let thy generous hand spontaneously stretch forth to lend\nsuccour to the unhappy mortal who is overwhelmed by his destiny; always\nbearing in thy recollection, that it may fall heavy upon thyself, as\nit now does upon him. Acknowledge, then, without guile, that every\nunfortunate has an inalienable right to thy kindness. Above all, wipe\nfrom the eyes of oppressed innocence the trickling crystals of agonized\nfeeling; let the tears of virtue in distress, fall upon thy sympathizing\nbosom; let the genial glow of sincere friendship animate thine honest\nheart; let the fond attachment of a mate, cherished by thy warmest\naffection, make thee forget the sorrows of life: be faithful to her\nlove, responsible to her tenderness, that she may reward thee by\na reciprocity of feeling; that under the eyes of parents united in\nvirtuous esteem, thy offspring may learn to set a proper value on\npractical virtue; that after having occupied thy riper years, they may\ncomfort thy declining age, gild with content thy setting sun, cheer the\nevening of thine existence, by a dutiful return of that care which thou\nshalt have bestowed on their imbecile infancy.\n\n\"Be just, because equity is the support of human society! Be good,\nbecause goodness connects all hearts in adamantine bonds! Be indulgent,\nbecause feeble thyself, thou livest with beings who partake of thy\nweakness! Be gentle, because mildness attracts attention! Be thankful,\nbecause gratitude feeds benevolence, nourishes generosity! Be modest,\nbecause haughtiness is disgusting to beings at all times well with\nthemselves. Forgive injuries, because revenge perpetuates hatred! Do\ngood to him who injureth thee, in order to shew thyself more noble than\nhe is; to make a friend of him, who was once thine enemy! Be reserved\nin thy demeanor, temperate in thine enjoyment, chaste in thy pleasures,\nbecause voluptuousness begets weariness, intemperance engenders disease;\nforward manners are revolting: excess at all times relaxes the springs\nof thy machine, will ultimately destroy thy being, and render thee\nhateful to thyself, contemptible to others.\n\n\"Be a faithful citizen; because the community is necessary to thine own\nsecurity; to the enjoyment of thine own existence; to the furtherance\nof thine own happiness. Be loyal, but be brave; submit to legitimate\nauthority; because it is requisite to the maintenance of that society\nwhich is necessary to thyself. Be obedient to the laws; because they\n_are_, or _ought to be_, the expression of the public will, to which\nthine own particular will ought ever to be subordinate. Defend thy\ncountry with zeal; because it is that which renders thee happy, which\ncontains thy property, as well as those beings dearest to thine heart:\ndo not permit this common parent of thyself, as well as of thy fellow\ncitizens, to fall under the shackles of tyranny; because from thence\nit will be no more than thy common prison. If thy country, deaf to the\nequity of thy claims, refuses thee happiness--if, submitted to an unjust\npower, it suffers thee to be oppressed, withdraw thyself from its bosom\nin silence, but never disturb its peace.\n\n\"In short, be a man; be a sensible, rational being; be a faithful\nhusband; a tender father; an equitable master; a zealous citizen; labour\nto serve thy country by thy prowess; by thy talents; by thine industry;\nabove all, by thy virtues. Participate with thine associates those gifts\nwhich nature has bestowed upon thee; diffuse happiness, among thy fellow\nmortals; inspire thy fellow citizens with content; spread joy over all\nthose who approach thee, that the sphere of thine actions, enlivened by\nthy kindness, illumined by thy benevolence, may re-act upon thyself; be\nassured that the man who makes others happy cannot himself be miserable.\nIn thus conducting thyself, whatever may be the injustice of others,\nwhatever may be the blindness of those beings with whom it is thy\ndestiny to live, thou wilt never be totally bereft of the recompense\nwhich is thy due; no power on earth be able to ravish from thee that\nnever failing source of the purest felicity, inward content; at each\nmoment thou wilt fall back with pleasure upon thyself; thou wilt neither\nfeel the rankling of shame, the terror of internal alarm, nor find\nthy heart corroded by remorse. Thou wilt esteem thyself; thou wilt be\ncherished by the virtuous, applauded and loved by all good men, whose\nsuffrages are much more valuable than those of the bewildered\nmultitude. Nevertheless, if externals occupy thy contemplation, smiling\ncountenances will greet thy presence; happy faces will express the\ninterest they have in thy welfare; jocund beings will make thee\nparticipate in their placid feelings. A life so spent, will each moment\nbe marked by the serenity of thine own soul, by the affection of the\nbeings who environ thee; will be made cheerful by the friendship of thy\nfellows; will enable thee to rise a contented, satisfied guest from the\ngeneral feast; conduct thee gently down the declivity of life, lead thee\npeaceably to the period of thy days; for die thou must: but already\nthou wilt survive thyself in thought; thou wilt always live in the\nremembrance of thy friends; in the grateful recollection of those beings\nwhose comforts have been augmented by thy friendly attentions; thy\nvirtues will, beforehand have erected to thy fame an imperishable\nmonument: if heaven occupies itself with thee, it will feel satisfied\nwith thy conduct, when it shall thus have contented the earth.\n\n\"Beware, then, how thou complainest of thy condition; be just, be kind,\nbe virtuous, and thou canst never be wholly destitute of felicity. Take\nheed how thou enviest the transient pleasure of seductive crime; the\ndeceitful power of victorious tyranny; the specious tranquillity of\ninterested imposture; the plausible manners of venal justice; the shewy,\nostentatious parade of hardened opulence. Never be tempted to increase\nthe number of sycophants to an ambitious despot; to swell the catalogue\nof slaves to an unjust tyrant; never suffer thyself to be allured to\ninfamy, to the practice of extortion, to the commission of outrage, by\nthe fatal privilege of oppressing thy fellows; always recollect it will\nbe at the expence of the most bitter remorse thou wilt acquire this\nbaneful advantage. Never be the mercenary accomplice of the spoilers of\nthy country; they are obliged to blush secretly whenever they meet the\npublic eye.\n\n\"For, do not deceive thyself, it is I who punish, with an unerring hand,\nall the crimes of the earth; the wicked may escape the laws of man, but\nthey never escape mine. It is I who have formed the hearts, as well\nan the bodies of mortals; it is I who have fixed the laws which govern\nthem. If thou deliverest thyself up to voluptuous enjoyment, the\ncompanions of thy debaucheries may applaud thee; but I shall punish thee\nwith the most cruel infirmities; these will terminate a life of shame\nwith deserved contempt. If thou givest, thyself up to intemperate\nindulgences, human laws may not correct thee, but I shall castigate thee\nseverely by abridging thy days. If thou art vicious, thy fatal habits\nwill recoil on thine own head. Princes, those terrestrial divinities,\nwhose power places them above the laws of mankind, are nevertheless\nobliged to tremble under the silent operation of my decrees. It is I who\nchastise them; it is I who fill their breasts with suspicion; it is\nI who inspire them with terror; it is I who make them writhe under\ninquietude; it is I who make them shudder with horror, at the very name\nof august truth; it is I who, amidst the crowd of nobles who surround\nthem, make them feel the inward workings of shame; the keen anguish of\nguilt; the poisoned arrows of regret; the cruel stings of remorse; it is\nI who, when they abuse my bounty, diffuse weariness over their benumbed\nsouls; it is I who follow uncreated, eternal justice; it is I who,\nwithout distinction of persons, know how to make the balance even; to\nadjust the chastisement to the fault; to make the misery bear its due\nproportion to the depravity; to inflict punishment commensurate with the\ncrime. The laws of man are just, only when they are in conformity with\nmine; his judgements are rational, only when I have dictated them: my\nlaws alone are immutable, universal, irrefragable; formed to regulate\nthe condition of the human race, in all ages, in all places, under all\ncircumstances.\n\n\"If thou doubtest mine authority, if thou questionest the irresistible\npower I possess over mortals, contemplate the vengeance I wreak on all\nthose who resist my decrees. Dive into the recesses of the hearts of\nthose various criminals, whose countenances, assuming a forced smile,\ncover souls torn with anguish. Dost thou not behold ambition tormented\nday and night, with an ardour which nothing can extinguish? Dost not\nthou see the mighty conquerer become the lord of devastated solitudes;\nhis victorious career, marked by a blasted cultivation, reign\nsorrowfully over smoking ruins; govern unhappy wretches who curse him in\ntheir hearts; while his soul, gnawed by remorse, sickens at the gloomy\naspect of his own triumphs? Dost thou believe that the tyrant, encircled\nwith his flatterers, who stun him with their praise, is unconscious of\nthe hatred which his oppression excites; of the contempt which his vices\ndraw upon him; of the sneers which his inutility call forth; of the\nscorn which his debaucheries entail upon his name? Dost thou think that\nthe haughty courtier does not inwardly blush at the galling insults he\nbrooks; despise, from the bottom of his soul, those meannesses by\nwhich he is compelled to purchase favours; feel at his heart's core the\nwretched dependence in which his cupidity places him.\n\n\"Contemplate the indolent child of wealth, behold him a prey to the\nlassitude of unmeasured enjoyment, corroded by the satiety which always\nfollows his exhausted pleasures. View the miser with an emaciated\ncountenance, the consequence of his own penurious disposition, whose\ncallous heart is inaccessible to the calls of misery, groaning over the\naccumulating load of useless treasure, which at the expense of himself,\nhe has laboured to amass. Behold the gay voluptuary, the smiling\ndebauche\u00e9, secretly lament the health they have so inconsiderately\ndamaged so prodigally thrown away: see disdain, joined to hatred, reign\nbetween those adulterous married couples, who have reciprocally violated\nthe sacred vows they mutually pledged at the altar of Hymen; whose\nappetencies have rendered them the scorn of the world; the jest of their\nacquaintance; polluted tributaries to the surgeon. See the liar\ndeprived of all confidence; the knave stript of all trust; the hypocrite\nfearfully avoiding the penetrating looks of his inquisitive neighbour;\nthe impostor trembling at the very name of formidable truth. Bring under\nyour review the heart of the envious, uselessly dishonored; that withers\nat the sight of his neighbour's prosperity. Cast your eyes on the frozen\nsoul of the ungrateful wretch, whom no kindness can warm, no benevolence\nthaw, no beneficence convert into a genial fluid. Survey the iron\nfeelings of that monster whom the sighs of the unfortunate cannot\nmollify. Behold the revengeful being nourished with venemous gall, whose\nvery thoughts are serpents; who in his rage consumes himself. Envy, if\nthou canst, the waking slumbers of the homicide; the startings of the\niniquitous judge; the restlessness of the oppressor of innocence; the\nfearful visions of the extortioner; whose couches are infested with the\ntorches of the furies. Thou tremblest without doubt at the sight of\nthat distraction which, amidst their splendid luxuries, agitates those\nfarmers of the revenue, who fatten upon public calamnity--who devour the\nsubstance of the orphan--who consume the means of the widow--who grind\nthe hard earnings of the poor: thou shudderest at witnessing the remorse\nwhich rends the souls of those reverend criminals, whom the uninformed\nbelieve to be happy, whilst the contempt which they have for themselves,\nthe unerring shafts of secret upbraidings, are incessantly revenging\nan outraged nation. Thou seest, that content is for ever banished the\nheart; quiet for ever driven from the habitations of those miserable\nwretches on whose minds I have indelibly engraved the scorn, the infamy,\nthe chastisement which they deserve. But, no! thine eyes cannot sustain\nthe tragic spectacle of my vengeance. Humanity obliges thee to partake\nof their merited sufferings; thou art moved to pity for these unhappy\npeople, to whom consecrated errors renders vice necessary; whose fatal\nhabits make them familiar with crime. Yes; thou shunnest them without\nhating them; thou wouldst succour them, if their contumacious perversity\nhad left thee the means. When thou comparest thine own condition, when\nthou examinest thine own soul, thou wilt have just cause to felicitate\nthyself, if thou shalt find that peace has taken up her abode with thee;\nthat contentment dwells at the bottom of thine own heart. In short, thou\nseest accomplished upon them, as well as, upon thyself, the unalterable\ndecrees of destiny, which imperiously demand, that crime shall punish\nitself, that virtue never shall be destitute Of remuneration.\"\n\nSuch is the sum of those truths which are contained in the _Code of\nNature_; such are the doctrines, which its disciples can announce. They\nare unquestionably preferable to that supernatural superstition which\nnever does any thing but mischief to the human species. Such is the\nworship that is taught by that sacred reason, which is the object of\ncontempt with the theologian; which meets the insult of the fanatic;\nwho only estimates that which man can neither conceive nor practise; who\nmake his morality consist in fictitious duties; his virtue in actions\ngenerally useless, frequently pernicious to the welfare of society; who\nfor want of being acquainted with nature, which is before their eyes,\nbelieve themselves obliged to seek in ideal worlds imaginary motives, of\nwhich every thing proves the inefficacy. The motive which the morality\nof nature employs, is the self-evident interest of each individual,\nof each community, of the whole human species, in all times, in every\ncountry, under all circumstances. Its worship is the sacrifice of vice,\nthe practise of real virtues; its object is the conservation of the\nhuman race, the happiness of the individual, the peace of mankind;\nits recompences are affection, esteem, and glory; or in their default,\ncontentment of mind, with merited self-esteem, of which no power will\never be able to deprive virtuous mortals; its punishments, are hatred,\ncontempt, and indignation; which society always reserves for those\nwho outrage its interests; from which even the most powerful can never\neffectually shield themselves.\n\nThose nations who shall be disposed to practise a morality so wise, who\nshall inculcate it in infancy, whose laws shall unceasingly confirm it,\nwill neither have occasion for superstition, nor for chimeras. Those\nwho shall obstinately prefer figments to their dearest interests, will\ncertainly march forward to ruin. If they maintain themselves for a\nseason, it is because the power of nature sometimes drives them back to\nreason, in despite of those prejudices which appear to lead them on to\ncertain destruction. Superstition, leagued with tyranny, for the waste\nof the human species, are themselves frequently obliged to implore\nthe assistance of a reason which they contemn; of a nature which they\ndisdain; which they debase; which they endeavour to crush under the\nponderous bulk of artificial theories. Superstition, in all times so\nfatal to mortals, when attacked by reason, assumes the sacred mantle of\npublic utility; rests its importance on false grounds, founds its\nrights upon the indissoluble alliance which it pretends subsists between\nmorality and itself; notwithstanding it never ceases for a single\ninstant to wage against it the most cruel hostility. It is,\nunquestionably, by this artifice, that it has seduced so many sages.\nIn the honesty of their hearts, they believe it useful to politics;\nnecessary to restrain the ungovernable fury of the passions; thus\nhypocritical superstition, in order to mask to superficial observers,\nits own hideous character, like the ass with the lion's skin, always\nknows how to cover itself with the sacred armour of utility; to buckle\non the invulnerable shield of virtue; it has therefore, been believed\nimperative to respect it, notwithstanding it felt awkward under these\nincumbrances; it consequently has become a duty to favor imposture,\nbecause it has artfully entrenched itself behind the altars of truth;\nits ears, however, discover its worthlessness; its natural cowardice\nbetrays itself; it is from this intrenchment we ought to drive it; it\nshould be dragged forth to public view; stripped of its surreptitious\npanoply; exposed in its native deformity; in order that the human race\nmay become acquainted with its dissimulation; that mankind may have a\nknowledge of its crimes; that the universe may behold its sacrilegious\nhands, armed with homicidal poniards, stained with the blood of nations,\nwhom it either intoxicates with its fury, or immolates without pity to\nthe violence of its passions.\n\nThe MORALITY OF NATURE is the only creed which her interpreter offers to\nhis fellow citizens; to nations; to the human species; to future races,\nweaned from those prejudices which have so frequently disturbed the\nfelicity of their ancestors. The friend of mankind cannot be the friend\nof delusion, which at all times has been a real scourge to the earth.\nThe APOSTLE OF NATURE will not be the instrument of deceitful chimeras,\nby which this world is made only an abode of illusions; the adorer of\ntruth will not compromise with falsehood; he will make no covenant with\nerror; conscious it must always be fatal to mortals. He knows that the\nhappiness of the human race imperiously exacts that the dark unsteady\nedifice of superstition should be razed to its foundations; in order\nto elevate on its ruins a temple suitable to peace--a fane sacred to\nvirtue. He feels it is only by extirpating, even to the most slender\nfibres, the poisonous tree, that during so many ages has overshadowed\nthe universe, that the inhabitants of this world will be able to use\ntheir own optics--to bear with steadiness that light which is competent\nto illumine their understanding--to guide their wayward steps--to give\nthe necessary ardency to their souls. If his efforts should be vain; if\nhe cannot inspire with courage, beings too much accustomed to tremble;\nhe will, at least, applaud himself for having dared the attempt.\nNevertheless, he will not judge his exertions fruitless, if he has\nonly been enabled to make a single mortal happy: if his principles have\ncalmed the conflicting transports of one honest soul; if his reasonings\nhave cheered up some few virtuous hearts. At least he will have the\nadvantage of having banished from his own mind the importunate terror\nof superstition; of having expelled from his own heart the gall which\nexasperates zeal; of having trodden under foot those chimeras with which\nthe uninformed are tormented. Thus, escaped from the peril of the storm,\nhe will calmly contemplate from the summit of his rock, those tremendous\nhurricanes which superstition excites; he will hold forth a succouring\nhand to those who shall be willing to accept it; he will encourage them\nwith his voice; he will second them with his best exertions, and in the\nwarmth of his own compassionate heart, he will exclaim:\n\nO NATURE; sovereign of all beings! and ye, her adorable daughters,\nVIRTUE, REASON, and TRUTH! remain for ever our revered protectors: it is\nto you that belong the praises of the human race; to you appertains the\nhomage of the earth. Shew, us then, O NATURE! that which man ought\nto do, in order to obtain the happiness which thou makest him desire.\nVIRTUE! Animate him with thy beneficent fire. REASON! Conduct his\nuncertain steps through the paths of life. TRUTH! Let thy torch illumine\nhis intellect, dissipate the darkness of his road. Unite, O assisting\ndeities! your powers, in order to submit the hearts of mankind to\nyour dominion. Banish error from our mind; wickedness from our hearts;\nconfusion from our footsteps; cause knowledge to extend its salubrious\nreign; goodness to occupy our souls; serenity to dwell in our bosoms.\nLet imposture, confounded, never again dare to shew its head. Let our\neyes, so long, either dazzled or blindfolded, be at length fixed\nupon those objects we ought to seek. Dispel for ever those mists\nof ignorance, those hideous phantoms, together with those seducing\nchimeras, which only serve to lead us astray. Extricate us from that\ndark abyss into which we are plunged by superstition; overthrow the\nfatal empire of delusion; crumble the throne of falsehood; wrest from\ntheir polluted hands the power they have usurped. Command men, without\nsharing your authority with mortals: break the chains that bind them\ndown in slavery: tear away the bandeau by which they are hoodwinked;\nallay the fury that intoxicates them; break in the hands of sanguinary,\nlawless tyrants, that iron sceptre with which they are crushed to\nexile; the imaginary regions, from whence fear has imported them, those\ntheories by which they are afflicted. Inspire the intelligent being with\ncourage; infuse energy into his system, that, at length, he may feel his\nown dignity; that he may dare to love himself; to esteem his own actions\nwhen they are worthy; that a slave only to your eternal laws, he may no\nlonger fear to enfranchise himself from all other trammels; that blest\nwith freedom, he may have the wisdom to cherish his fellow creature; and\nbecome happy by learning to perfection his own condition; instruct him\nin the great lesson, that the high road to felicity, is prudently to\npartake himself, and also to cause others to enjoy, the rich banquet\nwhich thou, O Nature! hast so bountifully set before him. Console thy\nchildren for those sorrows to which their destiny submits them, by\nthose pleasures which wisdom allows them to partake; teach them to be\ncontented with their condition; to banish envy from their mind; to yield\nsilently to necessity. Conduct them without alarm to that period which\nall beings must find; _let them learn that time changes all things, that\nconsequently they are made neither to avoid its scythe nor to fear its\narrival._\n\n\n\n\n\n[TRANSLATOR'S APPENDIX]\n\nA BRIEF SKETCH\n\nOF THE\n\nLIFE AND WRITINGS\n\nOF\n\nM. DE. MIRABAUD.\n\n\nAt a time when we are on the eve of an important change in our\npolitical affairs, which must evidently lead either to the recovery and\nre-establishment of our liberties, or to a military despotism, those who\nare connected with the press ought to use every exertion to enlighten\ntheir fellow-citizens, and to assert their right of canvassing, in the\nmost free and unrestrained manner, every subject connected with the\nhappiness of man.\n\nThe priesthood have ever been convenient tools in the hands of\ntyrants, to keep the bulk of the people in a degraded servility. By the\nsuperstitious and slavish doctrines which they infuse into their minds,\nthey prevent them from thinking for themselves and asserting their own\nindependence. At a moment when national schools are erecting in every\nquarter of the country, not with a sincere desire of enlightening the\nrising generation, but with the insidious design of instilling into\ntheir minds the doctrines of \"Church and King,\" in order to bolster up\na little longer the present rotten, tottering, and corrupt system: at\na moment, too, when thousands of fanatic preachers are traversing the\ncountry, with a view to subjugate the human mind to the baleful empire\nof visonary enthusiasm and sectarian bigotry to the utter extinction\nof every noble, manly, liberal, and pilanthropic principle;--at such a\nmoment as this, we thought that the \"SYSTEM OF NATURE\" could not fail\nto render essential service to the cause both of civil and religious\nliberty. No work, ancient or modern, has surpassed it, in the eloquence\nand sublimity of its language, or in the facility with which it treats\nthe most abtruse and difficult subjects. It is, without exception, the\nboldest effort the human mind has yet produced, in the investigation\nof morals and theology--in the destruction of priestcraft and\nsuperstition--and in developing the sources of all those passions and\nprejudices which have proved so fatal to the tranquillity of the world.\n\nThe republic of letters has never produced an author whose pen was so\nwell calculated to emancipate mankind from all those trammels with which\nthe nurse, the schoolmaster and the priest have successively locked\nup their noblest faculties, before they were capable of reasoning and\njudging for themselves. The frightful apprehensions of the gloomy\nbigot, and all the appalling terrors of superstition, are here utterly\nannihilated, to the complete satisfaction of every unbiassed and\nimpartial person.--These we considered as necessary observations to\nmake, previous to any attempt at the biography of the author.\n\nBiography may be reckoned among the most interesting of literary\nproductions. Its intrinsic value is such, that, though capable of\nextraordinary embellishment from the hand of genius, yet no inferiority\nof execution can so degrade it, as to deprive it of utility. Whatever\nrelates even to man in general, considered only as an aggregate of\nactive and intelligent beings, has a strong claim upon our notice; but\nthat which relates to our author, as distinguished from the rest of his\nspecies, moving in a more exalted sphere, and towering above them by\nthe resplendent excellencies of his mind, seems to me to be peculiarly\ncalculated for our contemplation, and ought to form the highest pleasure\nof our lives. There is a principle of curiosity implanted in us, which\nleads us, in an especial manner, to investigate our fellow creatures;\nthe eager inquisitiveness with which the mechanic seeks to know the\nhistory of his fellow-workmen and the ardour with which the philosopher,\nthe poet, or the historian hunts for details that may familiarize\nhim with, a Descartes or a Newton, with a Milton, a Hume, or a\nGibbon--spring from the same source. Their object, however, may\nperhaps vary; for, in the former, it may be for the sake of detraction,\ninvidious cavil, or malice; in the latter, it is a sweet homage paid by\nthe human heart to the memory of departed genius.\n\nIt has been repeatedly observed that the life of a scholar affords few\nmaterials for biography. This is only negatively true;--could every\nscholar have a Boswell, the remark would vanish; or were every scholar\na Rousseau, a Gibbon, or a Cumberland it would be equally nugatory.\nWhat can present higher objects of contemplation--what can claim\nmore forcibly our attention--where can we seek for subjects of a more\nprecious nature, than in the elucidation of the operations of mind,\nthe acquisition of knowledge, the gradual expansion of genius; its\napplication, its felicities, its sorrows, its wreaths of fame, its cold,\nundeserved neglect? Such scenes, painted by, the artist himself, are a\nrich bequest to mankind: even when traced by the hand of friendship\nor the pencil of admiration, they possess a permanent interest in our\nhearts. I cannot conceive a life more worthy of public notice, more\nimportant, more interesting to human nature, than the life of a literary\nman, were it executed according to the ideas I have formed of it: did\nit exhibit a faithful delineation of the progress of intellect, from the\ncradle upwards; did it portray, in accurate colors, the production of\nwhat we call genius: by what accident it was first awakened; what were\nits first tendencies; how directed to a particular object; by what means\nit was nourished and unfolded; the gradual progress of its operation\nin the production of a work; its hopes and fears; its delights; its\nmiseries; its inspirations; and all the thousand fleeting joys that so\noften invest its path but for a moment, and then fade like the dews\nof the morning. Let it contain too a transcript of the many nameless\ntransports that float round the heart, that dance in the gay circle\nbefore the ardent gazing eye, when the first conception of some future\neffort strikes the mind; how it pictures undefined delights of fame and\npopular applause; how it anticipates the bright moments of invention,\nand dwells with prophetic ecstasy on the felicitous execution of\nparticular parts, that already start into existence by the magic touch\nof a heated imagination. Let it depict the tender feelings of solitude,\nthe breathings of midnight silence, the scenes of mimic life, of imaged\ntrial, that often occupy the musing mind; let it be such a work, so\ndrawn, so coloured, and who shall pronounce it inferior? Who rather\nwill not confess that it presents a picture of human nature, where every\nheart may find some corresponding harmony? When, therefore, it is said,\nthat the life of a scholar is barren, it is so only because it has never\nbeen properly delineated; because those parts only have been selected\nwhich are common, and fail to distinguish him from the common man;\nbecause we have never penetrated into his closet, or into his heart;\nbecause we have drawn him only as an outward figure, and left unnoticed\nthat internal structure that would delight, astonish, and improve. And\nthen, when we compare the life of such a man with the more active one\nof a soldier, a statesman, or a lawyer, we pronounce it insipid,\nuninteresting. True;--the man of study has not fought for hire--he has\nnot slaughtered at the command of a master: he would disdain to do\nso. Though unaccompanied with the glaring actions of public men, which\nconfound and dazzle by their publicity, but shrink from the estimation\nof moral truth, it would present a far nobler picture; yes, and a more\ninstructive one:--the calm disciple of reason meditates in silence; he\nwalks his road with innoxious humility; he is poor, but his mind is his\ntreasure; he cultivates his reason, and she lifts him to the pinnacle of\ntruth; he learns to tear away the veil of self-love, folly, pride, and\nprejudice, and bares the human heart to his inspection; he corrects and\namends; he repairs the breaches made by passion; the proud man passes\nhim by, and looks upon him with scorn; but he feels his own worth, that\nennobling consciousness which swells in every vein, and inspires him\nwith true pride--with manly independence: to such a man I could sooner\nbow in reverence, than to the haughtiest, most successful candidate for\nthe world's ambition. But of such men, for the reason I have already\nmentioned, our information is scanty. While of others, who have\ncommanded a greater share of public notoriety, venal or mistaken\nadmiration has given more than we wished to know. Among these respected\nindividuals of human nature, may be placed Mirabaud. Had Mirabaud been\nan Englishman, who doubts but that we should have possessed at least\nample details of the usual subjects of biographical notice; while all\nthat has been collected among his own countrymen, is a scanty memoir in\na common dictionary. That we are doomed to remain ignorant of the life\nof such men, speaks a loud disgrace.--I lament it.\n\nJOHN BAPTISTE MIRABAUD, was born at Paris in the year 1674. He\nprosecuted his infantile studies under the direction of his parents, and\nwas afterwards entered a member of the _Congregation of the Priests of\nthe Oratory_, where he passed several years, and produced some very bold\nwritings, which were never intended for publication.\n\nHe was subsequently appointed tutor to the princesses of the House of\nOrleans, and then took the resolution of destroying the greater part of\nthe manuscripts that he produced while a member of the _Congregation_;\nbut the treachery of some of his friends, to whom he had confided his\nmanuscripts, rendered this precaution useless, for some of his works\nwere published during the time he remained the preceptor to his royal\npupils; among which number may be reckoned his \"New Liberties of\nThought,\" a work but little calculated for gaining him friends in the\npurlieus of the Court of Orleans. The \"Origin and Antiquity of the\nWorld,\" in three parts, was also published at this period, and from the\npublication of this work, may be dated the resolution of M. de Mirabaud\nto quit his office of preceptor, which he relinquished, having become\nmore independent; he now gave himself up entirely to his philosophical\nstudies, and produced the \"System of Nature,\" with which he was assisted\nby Diderot, D'Alembert, Baron D'Olbac, and others.\n\nThe profound metaphysical knowledge displayed throughout the System\nof Nature, and the doctrines which are therein advanced, warrants the\nconclusion, that it is at once the most decisive, boldest, and most\nextraordinary work, that the human understanding ever had the courage to\nproduce. The study of metaphysics his generally been considered the most\nterrific to the indolent mind; but the clear and perspicuous reasoning\nof a Mirabaud, who has united the most profound argument, with the most\nfascinating eloquence, charm and instruct us at the same time. But it\nwas not, to be expected that such doctrines as are contained in the\nSystem of Nature, would be advanced without meeting with some opposition\nfrom the superficial and bigoted metaphysicians, who feel an interest\nin upholding a system of delusion and superstition. No! certainly not,\nTheir interest was threatened, and their _craft_ in danger, and the\nconsequence was, that the _Atheist_ or _Disciple of Nature_, has\nbeen abused with every scurrilous epithet, \"full of sound and fury,\nsignifying nothing.\"\n\nAtheism is stigmatized with having \"opened a wide door for libertinism,\ndestroying the social and moral compact; and striking a deadly blow\nat religion. It is asserted that the atheist, who by his opinions has\ndeprived himself of the hope and consolation of a future life, has no\nmotive for the practise of virtue, or to contribute to the well being of\nsociety. Deprived of a chimera which religion every where presents him,\nhe wanders through the cheerless gloom of scepticism, regardless of the\nconsequences of an abandoned life. Without a God, he acknowledges no\nbenefactor; without divine laws, he knows no rule for the conduct of\nlife, and submits to no law but his passions. An enemy to all social\norder, he spurns at human laws, and breaks through every barrier opposed\nto his wickedness.\" Under such colours is an atheist painted: a short\ndigression must be suffered to examine this picture, and to disprove the\nassertions so sweepingly made.\n\nI admit that atheism strikes a deadly blow at religion; because under\nthe cloak of religion, mankind have been oppressed in all ages; but that\nit encourages libertinism, or destroys the \"social and moral compact,\" I\nhave yet to learn. In all organized governments, men are restrained from\ncrime and compelled to submission by laws supposed to be made for the\ngeneral benefit. These laws are the effect of the first formation of\nsociety for mutual preservation. Here then is a sufficient motive\nfor the one as well as the other, to contribute to the well-being of\nsociety. The laws of Nature are the same in effect on the atheist\nand the religionist. If man be led captive by his passions, and gives\nhimself to debauchery and voluptuousness, nature will punish him with\nbodily infirmities and a debilitated mind. If he be intemperate, she\nwill shorten his days and bring him to the grave with the most poignant\nremorse. The fatal effects of his vicious propensities will fall upon\nhis own head. A disturber of social order will live in continual fear\nof the vengeance of society, and that very fear is a more dreadful\npunishment than the just vengeance which perhaps he escapes. It renders\nlife burdensome, and makes a man hateful to himself. Can men have\nstronger motives for the practise of virtue? The atheist is in full\npossession of these motives, and the religionist is most completely\nswayed by them, whatever may be his pretensions to others derived\nfrom religion. But we are assured he has other motives; more powerful\nincentives, in the promise of future rewards and punishments. This, like\nall other chimerical doctrines, cannot be maintained if we look at the\ngeneral practise of mankind. Let us trace the effects of this doctrine,\nor rather let us examine the actions, conduct, and character of men\nprofessing it, and we shall see how little influence it has over them.\nThe bulk of society believe they shall answer in a future life for the\ndeeds done in the present. Nay, I hardly think one in a hundred thousand\nwill say they doubt it. What then is its effect? With this dreadful\nsentence, _\"Thou shalt go into everlasting punishment,\"_ continually\nsounded in their ears, do we not daily see the greatest enormities\ncommitted? Are not the most horrid crimes perpetrated in all parts\nof the world? The most vicious propensities and the most extravagant\nfollies are almost indiscriminately gratified. Is not vice frequently\ntriumphant, and virtue compelled to seek her own reward in retirement?\nThe laws of society are broken by the most flagrant injustice, and the\nlaws of nature outraged by the most shocking depravity. All this evil\nexists in nations believing themselves to be accountable beings after\ndeath. Where then are the beneficial effects arising, to mankind from\nthe promulgation of this doctrine? Men who cannot be restrained from\ndoing evil by human laws, have no dread of any other. Their whole lives\nand conduct confirm this. Others who live in submission to the laws of\nsociety, give themselves up to those vicious habits, (without fear of\ndivine laws) which the law does not take cognizance of. Men, not wholly\ndepraved, or not without the pale of society, generally respect the\nlaws, and fear the bad opinion of others. Hence we observe, when\ninterest or passion leads them into secret vices, they invariably play\nthe hypocrite; and although they are aware of the denunciations of their\nGod, whom they acknowledge is a witness to all their actions, while they\npreserve their fair fame they still persevere. In fact, they live as if\nthey disbelieved in his existence; and yet the greatest criminal, the\nmost depraved wretch, would shudder at being told there is no God. The\natheist, as a man, is liable to commit the same crimes, and fall into\nthe same vices as the believer; but because he is an atheist, is he a\nworse criminal than the other? In one respect, I conceive he is not so\nbad. He only acts in defiance of _human_ laws,--he only offends men; the\nother infringes _both divine_ and _human_;--he defies both God and man.\nBoth are injurious to society and themselves, and both are actuated by\nthe came motives.\n\nAgain we are told, that the well disposed part of mankind are rendered\nmore virtuous, and the vicious less vicious by this doctrine. How are\nwe to know that? If the virtuous man acts uprightly, does good to his\nfellow creatures, restrains his passions, and returns good for evil,\nexperience teaches him it is his interest so to do. Those who are\nviciously disposed are only deterred from crime by penal laws. Societies\ncannot long exist, where evil has the ascendency. Without social\nlaws, this would really be the case, notwithstanding the threats of an\navenging God. If men were told they would not be answerable for the evil\ncommitted in this life to human laws, but that God would punish them\nafter death, it is evident the human race would soon be exterminated.\nOn the other hand, tell them their crimes will never be punished by God,\nor, in other words, there is no other God than NATURE, but that the laws\nof men will avenge the offences against society; so long as those\nlaws are administered with justice and impartiality, so long will such\nsociety continue to improve. Hence it is evident that the system which\nwill maintain order in society by itself, must be the best and most\nrational. A good government without religion would be more solid and\nlasting, and tend more to the preservation of mankind, than all the\ntheocratical or ecclesiastical governments that ever the world was\nsubject to.--Thus much for the opponents of atheism.\n\nIt has been asserted with a perverse obstinacy, by the advocates for the\nexistence of a deity, that the SYSTEM OF NATURE was never written by\nthe author whose name it bears.--It is granted that it was not published\nduring his life: but that circumstance forms no reason why such a\nconclusion should be drawn. The persecutions which the atheists have\nendured, were a sufficient excuse for the work not appearing in any form\nduring the life time of its venerable author. The Athenians sought to\ntry Diagoras the Melian, for atheism; but he fled from Athens, and a\nprice was offered for his head. Protagoras was banished from Athens, and\nhis books burnt, because he ventured to assert, that he knew nothing of\nthe gods. Stephen Dolet was burnt at Paris for atheism. Giordano Bruno\nwas burnt by the Inquisitors in Italy. Lucilio Vanini was burnt at\nThoulouse, through the kind offices of an Attorney-General. Bayle\nwas under the necessity of fleeing to Holland. Casimio Liszynski was\nexecuted at Grodno;--and Akenhead at Edinborough. And the body of the\neloquent and erudite Hume, was obliged to be watched many nights by his\nfriends, lest it should be taken up by the fanatics, who considered him\none of the greatest monsters of iniquity, because he did not happen to\nbelieve as they believed.--With these pictures of Christian persecution\nbefore his eyes, is it surprising that M. de Mirabaud should adopt the\nresolution of suffering the SYSTEM OF NATURE to appear as a posthumous\nwork? That the same fate would have attended him, the most devout\nChristian will not undertake to deny.\n\nHowever the sentiments of M. de Mirabaud may be condemned by the\nfanatics, all those who knew him bear the most brilliant testimony of\nhis integrity, candour, and the soundness of his understanding; in a\nword, to his social virtues, and the innocence of his manners. He died\nuniversally regretted, at Paris, the twenty-fourth of June, 1760, in the\neighty-sixth year of his age.\n\nThe following works, written by him at different periods, were never\npublished:--_The Life of Jesus Christ. Impartial Reflections on the\nGospel. The Morality of Nature. An Abridged History of the Priesthood;\nAncient and Modern. The Opinions of the Ancients concerning the Jews._ A\nwretched mutilated edition of this last work was published at Amsterdam,\nin 1740, in two small volumes, under the title of _Miscellaneous\nDissertations_.\n\n\nFINIS.","title":"The System of Nature, or, the Laws of the Moral and Physical World. Volume 2","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":136950}