Christian religion, which supposes its God as cruel to exact
sufferings from men as death from his only Son. If a God exempt from
all sin is himself also the sufferer for the sins of all, which is the
doctrine of those who maintain universal redemption, it is not
surprising to see men that are sinners making it a duty to assemble in
large meetings, and invent the means of rendering themselves
miserable. These gloomy notions have banished men to the desert. They
have fanatically renounced society and the pleasures of life, to be
buried alive, believing they would merit heaven if they afflicted
themselves with stripes and passed their existence in mummical
ceremonies, as injurious to their health as useless to their country.
And these are the false ideas by which the Divinity is transformed
into a tyrant as barbarous as insensible, who, agreeably to
_priestcraft_, has prescribed how both men and women might live in
ennui, penitence, sorrow, and tears; for the perfection of monastic
institutions consists in the ingenious art of self-torture. But
sacerdotal pride finds its account in these austerities. Rigid monks
glory in barbarous rules, the observance of which attracts the respect
of the credulous, who imagine that men who torment themselves are
indeed the favorites of heaven. But these monks, who follow these
austere rules, are fanatics, who sacrifice themselves to the pride of
the clergy who live in luxury and in wealth, although their duped,
imbecile brethren have been known to make it a point of honor to die
of famine.
How often, Madam, has your attention not been aroused when you
recalled to mind the fate of the poor religious men of the desert,
whom an unnecessary vow has condemned, as it were voluntarily, to a
life as rigorous as if spent in a prison! Seduced by the enthusiasm of
youth, or forced by the orders of inhuman parents, they have been
obliged to carry to the tomb the chains of their captivity. They have
been obliged to submit without appeal to a stern superior, who finds
no consolation in the discharge of his slavish task but in making his
empire more hard to those beneath him. You have seen unfortunate young
ladies obliged to renounce their rank in society, the innocent
pleasures of youth, the joys of their sex, to groan forever under a
rigorous despotism, to which indiscreet vows had bound them. All
monasteries present to us an odious group of fanatics, who have
separated themselves from society to pass the remainder of their lives
in unhappiness. The society of these devotees is calculated solely to
render their lives mutually more unsupportable. But it seems strange
that men should expect to merit heaven by suffering the torments of
hell on earth; yet so it is, and reason has too often proved
insufficient to convince them of the contrary.
If this religion does not call all Christians to these sublime
perfections, it nevertheless enjoins on all its votaries suffering and
mortifying of the body. The church prescribes privations to all her
children, and abstinences and fasts; these things they practise among
us as duties; and the devotees imagine they render themselves very
agreeable to the Divinity when they have scrupulously fulfilled those
minute and puerile practices, by which they tell us that the priests
have proof whether their patience and obedience be such as are
dictated by and acceptable to Heaven. What a ridiculous idea is it,
for example, to make of the Deity a trio of persons; to teach the
faithful that this Deity takes notice of what kinds of food his people
eat; that he is displeased if they eat beef or mutton, but that he is
delighted if they eat beans and fish! In good sooth, Madam, our
priests, who sometimes give us very lofty ideas of God, please
themselves but too often with making him strangely contemptible!
The life of a good Christian or of a devotee is crowded with a host of
useless practices, which would be at least pardonable if they procured
any good for society. But it is not for that purpose that our priests
make so much ado about them; they only wish to have submissive slaves,
sufficiently blind to respect their caprices as the orders of a wise
God; sufficiently stupid to regard all their practices as divine
duties, and they who scrupulously observe them as the real favorites
of the Omnipotent. What good can there result to the world from the
abstinence of meats, so much enjoined on some Christians, especially
when other Christians judge this injunction a very ridiculous law, and
contrary to reason and the order of things established in nature? It
is not difficult to perceive amongst us that this injunction, openly
violated by the rich, is an oppression on the poor, who are compelled
to pay dearly for an indifferent, often an unwholesome diet, that
injures rather than repairs the natural strength of their
constitution. Besides, do not the priests sell this permission to the
rich, to transgress an injunction the poor must not violate with
impunity? In fine, they seem to have multiplied our practices, our
duties, and our tortures, to have the advantage of multiplying our
faults, and making a good bargain out of our pretended crimes.
The more we examine religion the more reason shall we have to be
convinced that it is beneficial to the _priests alone_. Every part of
this religion conspires to render us submissive to the fantasies of
our spiritual guides, to labor for their grandeur, to contribute to
their riches. They appoint us to perform disadvantageous duties; they
prescribe impossible perfections, purposely that we may transgress;
they have thereby engendered in pious minds scruples and difficulties
which they condescendingly appease for money. A devotee is obliged to
observe, without ceasing, the useless and frivolous rules of his
priest, and even then he is subject to continual reproaches; he is
perpetually in want of his priest to expiate his pretended faults with
which he charges himself, and the omission of duties that he regards
as the most important acts of his life, but which are rarely such as
interest society or benefit it by their performance. By a train of
religious prejudices with which the priests infect the mind of their
weak devotees, these believe themselves infinitely more culpable when
they have omitted some useless practice, than if they had committed
some great injustice or atrocious sin against humanity. It is commonly
sufficient for the devotees to be on good terms with God, whether they
be consistent in their actions with man, or in the practice of those
duties they owe to their fellow beings.
Besides, Madam, what real advantage does society derive from repeated
prayers, abstinences, privations, seclusions, meditations, and
austerities, to which religion attaches so much value? Do all the
mysterious practices of the priests produce any real good? Are they
capable of calming the passions, of correcting vices, and of giving
virtue to those who most scrupulously observe them? Do we not daily
see persons who believe themselves damned if they forget a mass, if
they eat a fowl on Friday, if they neglect a confession, though they
are guilty at the same time of great dereliction to society? Do they
not hold the conduct of those very unjust, and very cruel, who happen
to have the misfortune of not thinking and doing as they think and
act? These practices, out of which a great number of men have created
essential duties, but too commonly absorb all moral duties; for if the
devotees are over-religious, it is rare to find them virtuous. Content
with doing what religion requires, they trouble themselves very little
about other matters. They believe themselves the favored of God, and
that it is a proof of this if they are detested by men, whose good
opinion they are seldom anxious to deserve. The whole life of a
devotee is spent in fulfilling, with scrupulous exactitude, duties
indifferent to God, unnecessary to himself, and useless to others. He
fancies he is virtuous when he has performed the rites which his
religion prescribes; when he has meditated on mysteries of which he
understands nothing; when he has struggled with sadness to do things
in which a man of sense can perceive no advantage; in fine, when he
has endeavored to practise, as much as in him lies, the Evangelical or
Christian virtues, in which he thinks all morality essentially
consists.
I shall proceed in my next letter to examine these virtues, and to
prove to you that they are contrary to the ideas we ought to form of
God, useless to ourselves, and often dangerous to others. In the mean
time, I am, &c.
LETTER VIII.
Of Evangelical Virtues and Christian Perfection.
If we believe the priests, we shall be persuaded, that the Christian
religion, by the beauty of its morals, excels philosophy and all the
other religious systems in the world. According to them, the
unassisted reason of the human mind could never have conceived sounder
doctrines of morality, more heroical virtues, or precepts more
beneficial to society. But this is not all; the virtues known or
practised among the heathens are considered as _false virtues_; far
from deserving our esteem, and the favor of the Almighty, they are
entitled to nothing but contempt; and, indeed, are _flagrant sins_ in
the sight of God. In short, the priests labor to convince us, that the
Christian ethics are purely divine, and the lessons inculcated so
sublime, that they could proceed from nothing less than the Deity.
If, indeed, we call that divine which men can neither conceive nor
perform; if by divine virtues we are to understand virtues to which
the mind of man cannot possibly attach the least idea of utility; if
by divine perfections are meant those qualities which are not only
foreign to the nature of man, but which are irreconcilably repugnant
to it,--then, indeed, we shall be compelled to acknowledge that the
morals of Christianity are divine; at least we shall be assured that
they have nothing in common with that system of morality which arises
out of the nature and relations of men, but on the contrary, that
they, in many instances, confound the best conceptions we are able to
form of virtue.
Guided by the light of reason, we comprehend under the name of virtue
those habitual dispositions of the heart which tend to the happiness
and the real advantage of those with whom we associate, and by the
exercise of which our fellow-creatures are induced to feel a
reciprocal interest in our welfare. Under the Christian system the
name of virtues is bestowed upon dispositions which it is impossible
to possess without supernatural grace; and which, when possessed, are
useless, if not injurious, both to ourselves and others. The morality
of Christians is, in good truth, the morality of another world. Like
the philosopher of antiquity, they keep their eyes fixed upon the
stars till they fall into a well, unperceived, at their feet. The only
object which their scheme of morals proposes to itself is, to disgust
their minds with the things of this world, in order that they may
place their entire affections upon things above, of which they have no
knowledge whatever; their happiness here below forms no part of their
consideration; this life, in the view of a Christian, is nothing but a
pilgrimage, leading to another existence, infinitely more interesting
to his hopes, because infinitely beyond the reach of his
understanding. Besides, before we can deserve to be happy in the
world which we do not know, we are informed that we must be miserable
in the world which we do know; and, above all things, in order to
secure to ourselves happiness hereafter, it is especially necessary
that we altogether resign the use of our own reason; that is to say,
we must seal up our eyes in utter darkness, and surrender ourselves to
the guidance of our priests. These are the principles upon which the
fabric of Christian morals is evidently constructed.
Let us now proceed, Madam, to a more detailed examination of the
virtues upon which the Christian religion is built. These virtues are
Evangelical, &c. If destitute of them, we are assured that it is in
vain for us to seek the favor of the Deity.
Of these virtues the first is FAITH. According to the doctrine of the
church, faith is the gift of God, a supernatural virtue, by means of
which we are inspired with a firm belief in God, and in all that he
has vouchsafed to reveal to man, although our reason is utterly unable
to comprehend it. Faith is, says the church, founded upon the word of
God, who can neither deceive nor be deceived. Thus faith supposes,
that God has spoken to man--but what evidence have we that God has
spoken to man? The Holy Scriptures. Who is it that assures us the Holy
Scriptures contain the word of God? It is the church. But who is it
that assures us the church cannot and will not deceive us? The Holy
Scriptures. Thus the Scriptures bear witness to the infallibility of
the church--and the church, in return, testifies the truth of the
Scriptures. From this statement of the case, you must perceive, that
faith is nothing more than an implicit belief in the priests, whose
assurances we adopt as the foundation of opinions in themselves
incomprehensible. It is true, that as a confirmation of the truth of
Scripture, we are referred to miracles--but it is these identical
Scriptures which report to us and testify of those very miracles. Of
the absolute impossibility of any miracles, I flatter myself that I
have already convinced you.
Besides, I cannot but think, Madam, that you must be, by this time,
thoroughly satisfied how absurd it is to say that the understanding is
convinced of any thing which it does not comprehend; the insight I
have given you into the books which the Christians call sacred, must
have left upon your mind a firm persuasion, that they never could have
proceeded from a wise, a good, an omniscient, a just, and all-powerful
God. If, then, we cannot yield them a real belief, what we call faith
can be nothing more than a blind and irrational adherence to a system
devised by priests, whose crafty selfishness has made them careful
from the earliest infancy to fill our tender minds with prepossessions
in favor of doctrines which they judged favorable to their own
interests. Interested, however, as they are in the opinions which they
endeavor to force upon us as truth, is it possible for these priests
to believe them themselves? Unquestionably not--the thing is out of
nature. They are men like ourselves, furnished with the same
faculties, and neither they nor we can be convinced of any thing which
lies equally beyond the scope of us all. If they possessed an
additional sense, we should perhaps allow that they might comprehend
what is unintelligible to us; but as we clearly see that they have no
intellectual privileges above the rest of the species, we are
compelled to conclude, that their faith, like the faith of other
Christians, is a blind acquiescence in opinions derived, without
examination, from their predecessors; and that they must be hypocrites
when they pretend to _believe_ in doctrines of the truth of which they
cannot be _convinced_, since these doctrines have been shown to be
destitute of that degree of evidence which is necessary to impress the
mind with a feeling of their probability, much less of their
certainty.
It will be said that faith, or the faculty of believing things
incredible, is the gift of God, and can only be known to those upon
whom God has bestowed the favor. My answer is, that, if that be the
case, we have no alternative but to wait till the grace of God shall
be shed upon us--and that in the mean time we may be allowed to doubt
whether credulity, stupidity, and the perversion of reason can
proceed, as favors, from a rational Deity who has endowed us with the
power of thinking. If God be infinitely wise, how can folly and
imbecility be pleasing to him? If there were such a thing as faith,
proceeding from grace, it would be the privilege of seeing things
otherwise than as God has made them; and if that were so, it follows,
that the whole creation would be a mere cheat. No man can believe the
Bible to be the production of God without doing violence to every
consistent notion that he is able to form of Deity! No man can believe
that one God is three Gods, and that those three Gods are one God,
without renouncing all pretension to common sense, and persuading
himself that there is no such thing as certainty in the world.
Thus, Madam, we are bound to suspect that what the church calls a gift
from above, a supernatural grace, is, in fact, a perfect blindness, an
irrational credulity, a brutish submission, a vague uncertainty, a
stupid ignorance, by which we are led to acquiesce, without
investigation, in every dogma that our priests think fit to impose
upon us--by which we are led to adopt, without knowing why, the
pretended opinions of men who can have no better means of arriving at
the truth than we have. In short, we are authorized in suspecting that
no motive but that of blinding us, in order more effectually to
deceive us, can actuate those men who are eternally preaching to us
about a virtue which, if it could exist, would throw into utter
confusion the simplest and clearest perceptions of the human mind.
This supposition is amply confirmed by the conduct of our
ecclesiastics--forgetting what they have told us, that grace is the
gratuitous present of God, bestowed or withheld at his sovereign
pleasure, they nevertheless indulge their wrath against all those who
have not received the gift of faith; they keep up one incessant
anathema against all unbelievers, and nothing less than absolute
extermination of heresy can appease their anger wherever they have the
strength to accomplish it. So that heretics and unbelievers are made
accountable for the grace of God, although they never received it;
they are punished in this world for those advantages which God has not
been pleased to extend to them in their journey to the next. In the
estimation of priests and devotees, the want of faith is the most
unpardonable of all offences--it is precisely that offence which, in
the cruelty of their absurd injustice, they visit with the last rigors
of punishment, for you cannot be ignorant, Madam, that in all
countries where the clergy possess sufficient influence, the flames of
priestly charity are lighted up to consume all those who are deficient
in the prescribed allowance of faith.
When we inquire the motive for their unjust and senseless proceedings,
we are told that faith is the most necessary of all things, that faith
is of the most essential service to morals, that without faith a man
is a dangerous and wicked wretch, a pest to society. And, after all,
is it our own choice to have faith? Can we believe just what we
please? Does it depend upon ourselves not to think a proposition
absurd which our understanding shows us to be absurd? How could we
avoid receiving, in our infancy, whatever impressions and opinions
our teachers and relations chose to implant in us? And where is the
man who can boast that he has faith--that he is fully convinced of
mysteries which he cannot conceive, and wonders which he cannot
comprehend?
Under these circumstances how can faith be serviceable to morals? If
no one can have faith but upon the assurance of another, and
consequently cannot entertain a real conviction, what becomes of the
social virtues? Admitting that faith were possible, what connection
can exist between such occult speculations and the manifest duties of
mankind, duties which are palpable to every one who, in the least,
consults his reason, his interest, or the welfare of the society to
which he belongs? Before I can be satisfied of the advantages of
justice, temperance, and benevolence, must I first believe in the
Trinity, the Incarnation, the Eucharist, and all the fables of the Old
Testament? If I believe in all the atrocious murders attributed by the
Bible to that God whom I am bound to consider as the fountain of
justice, wisdom, and goodness, is it not likely that I shall feel
encouraged to the commission of crimes when I find them sanctioned by
such an example? Although unable to discover the value of so many
mysteries which I cannot understand, or of so many fanciful and
cumbersome ceremonies prescribed by the church, am I, on that account,
to be denounced as a more dangerous citizen than those who persecute,
torment, and destroy every one of their fellow-creatures who does not
think and act at their dictation? The evident result of all these
considerations must be, that he who has a lively faith and a blind
zeal for opinions contradictory to common sense, is more irrational,
and consequently more wicked than the man whose mind is untainted by
such detestable doctrines; for when once the priests have gained their
fatal ascendency over his mind, and have persuaded him that, by
committing all sorts of enormities, he is doing the work of the Lord,
there can be no doubt that he will make greater havoc in the happiness
of the world, than the man whose reason tells him that such excesses
cannot be acceptable in the sight of God.
The advocates of the church will here interrupt me, by alleging that
if divested of those sentiments which religion inspires, men would no
longer live under the influence of motives strong enough to induce an
abstinence from vice, or to urge them on in the career of virtue when
obstructed by painful sacrifices. In a word, it will be affirmed that
unless men are convinced of the existence of an avenging and
remunerating God, they are released from every motive to fulfil their
duties to each other in the present life.
You are, doubtless, Madam, quite sensible of the futility of such
pretences, put forth by priests who, in order to render themselves
more necessary, are indefatigable in endeavoring to persuade us that
their system is indispensable to the maintenance of social order. To
annihilate their sophistries it is sufficient to reflect upon the
nature of man, his true interests, and the end for which society is
formed. Man is a feeble being, whose necessities render him constantly
dependent upon the support of others, whether it be for the
preservation or the pleasure of his existence; he has no means of
interesting others in his welfare except by his manner of conducting
himself towards them; that conduct which renders him an object of
affection to others is called virtue--whatever is pernicious to
society is called crime--and where the consequences are injurious only
to the individual himself, it is called vice. Thus every man must
immediately perceive that he consults his own happiness by advancing
that of others--that vices, however cautiously disguised from public
observation, are, nevertheless, fraught with ruin to him who practises
them--and that crimes are sure to render the perpetrator odious or
contemptible in the eyes of his associates, who are necessary to his
own happiness. In short, education, public opinion, and the laws point
out to us our mutual duties much more clearly than the chimeras of an
incomprehensible religion.
Every man on consulting with himself will feel indubitably that he
desires his own conservation; experience will teach him both what he
ought to do and what to avoid to arrive at this end; in consequence he
will shrink from those excesses which endanger his being; he will
debar himself from those gratifications which in their course would
render his existence miserable; and he would make sacrifices, if it
was necessary, in the view of procuring himself advantages more real
than those of which he momentarily deprived himself. Thus he would
know what he owes to himself and what he owes to others.