Some ancient and modern philosophers have had the courage to accept
experience and reason as their guides, and to shake off the chains of
superstition. Lucippe, Democritus, Epicurus, Straton, and some other
Greeks, dared to tear away the thick veil of prejudice, and to deliver
philosophy from theological fetters. But their systems, too simple, too
sensible, and too stripped of wonders for the lovers of fancy, were
obliged to surrender to the fabulous conjectures of Plato, Socrates, and
Zeno. Among the moderns, Hobbes, Spinoza, Bayle, and others have
followed the path of Epicurus, but their doctrine found but few votaries
in a world still too much infatuated with fables to listen to reason.
In all ages one could not, without imminent danger, lay aside the
prejudices which opinion had rendered sacred. No one was permitted to
make discoveries of any kind; all that the most enlightened men could do
was to speak and write with hidden meaning; and often, by a cowardly
complaisance, to shamefully ally falsehood with truth. A few of them had
a double doctrine--one public and the other secret. The key of this last
having been lost, their true sentiments often became unintelligible and,
consequently, useless to us. How could modern philosophers who, being
threatened with the most cruel persecution, were called upon to renounce
reason and to submit to faith--that is to say, to priestly authority--I
say, how could men thus fettered give free flight to their genius,
perfect reason, or hasten human progress? It was but in fear and
trembling that the greatest men obtained glimpses of truth; they rarely
had the courage to announce it; those who dared to do it have generally
been punished for their temerity. Thanks to religion, it was never
permitted to think aloud or to combat the prejudices of which man is
everywhere the victim or the dupe.
CCV.--WE COULD NOT REPEAT TOO OFTEN HOW EXTRAVAGANT AND FATAL RELIGION
IS.
Every man who has the boldness to announce truths to the world, is sure
to receive the hatred of the priests; the latter loudly call upon the
powers that be, for assistance; they need the assistance of kings to
sustain their arguments and their Gods. These clamors show the weakness
of their cause.
"They are in embarrassment when they cry for help."
It is not permitted to err in the matter of religion; on every other
subject we can be deceived with impunity; we pity those who go astray,
and we have some liking for the persons who discover truths new to us.
But as soon as theology supposes itself concerned, be it in errors or
discoveries, a holy zeal is kindled; the sovereigns exterminate; the
people fly into frenzy; and the nations are all stirred up without
knowing why. Is there anything more afflicting than to see public and
individual welfare depend upon a futile science, which is void of
principles, which has no standing ground but imagination, and which
presents to the mind but words void of sense? What good is a religion
which no one understands; which continually torments those who trouble
themselves about it; which is incapable of rendering men better; and
which often gives them the credit of being unjust and wicked? Is there a
more deplorable folly, and one that ought more to be abated, than that
which, far from doing any good to the human race, does but blind it,
cause transports, and render it miserable, depriving it of truth, which
alone can soften the rigor of fate?