intermission over the preservation and happiness of his weak and
short-sighted children, and who yet leaves them at liberty to wander at
random among rocks, precipices, and waters; who rarely hinders them from
following their inordinate appetites; who permits them to handle, without
precaution, murderous arms, at the risk of their life? What should we
think of the same father, if, instead of imputing to himself the evil that
happens to his poor children, he should punish them for their wanderings
in the most cruel manner? We should say, with reason, that this father is
a madman, who unites injustice to folly. A God, who punishes faults, which
he could have prevented, is a being deficient in wisdom, goodness, and
equity. A foreseeing God would prevent evil, and thereby avoid having to
punish it. A good God would not punish weaknesses, which he knew to be
inherent in human nature. A just God, if he made man, would not punish
him for not being made strong enough to resist his desires. _To punish
weakness is the most unjust tyranny._ Is it not calumniating a just God,
to say, that he punishes men for their faults, even in the present life?
How could he punish beings, whom it belonged to him alone to reform, and
who, while they have not _grace_, cannot act otherwise than they do?
According to the principles of theologians themselves, man, in his present
state of corruption, can do nothing but evil, since, without divine grace,
he is never able to do good. Now, if the nature of man, left to itself,
or destitute of divine aid, necessarily determines him to evil, or renders
him incapable of good, what becomes of the free-will of man? According to
such principles, man can neither merit nor demerit. By rewarding man for
the good he does, God would only reward himself; by punishing man for the
evil he does, God would punish him for not giving him grace, without which
he could not possibly do better.
80.
Theologians repeatedly tell us, that man is free, while all their
principles conspire to destroy his liberty. By endeavouring to justify
the Divinity, they in reality accuse him of the blackest injustice. They
suppose, that without grace, man is necessitated to do evil. They affirm,
that God will punish him, because God has not given him grace to do good!
Little reflection will suffice to convince us, that man is necessitated
in all his actions, that his free will is a chimera, even in the system of
theologians. Does it depend upon man to be born of such or such parents?
Does it depend upon man to imbibe or not to imbibe the opinions of his
parents or instructors? If I had been born of idolatrous or Mahometan
parents, would it have depended upon me to become a Christian? Yet,
divines gravely assure us, that a just God will damn without pity all
those, to whom he has not given grace to know the Christian religion!
Man's birth is wholly independent of his choice. He is not asked whether
he is willing, or not, to come into the world. Nature does not consult
him upon the country and parents she gives him. His acquired ideas, his
opinions, his notions true or false, are necessary fruits of the education
which he has received, and of which he has not been the director. His
passions and desires are necessary consequences of the temperament given
him by nature. During his whole life, his volitions and actions are
determined by his connections, habits, occupations, pleasures, and
conversations; by the thoughts, that are involuntarily presented to his
mind; in a word, by a multitude of events and accidents, which it is out
of his power to foresee or prevent. Incapable of looking into futurity,
he knows not what he will do. From the instant of his birth to that of
his death, he is never free. You will say, that he wills, deliberates,
chooses, determines; and you will hence conclude, that his actions are
free. It is true, that man wills, but he is not master of his will or
his desires; he can desire and will only what he judges advantageous to
himself; he can neither love pain, nor detest pleasure. It will be
said, that he sometimes prefers pain to pleasure; but then he prefers
a momentary pain with a view of procuring a greater and more durable
pleasure. In this case, the prospect of a greater good necessarily
determines him to forego a less considerable good.
The lover does not give his mistress the features which captivate him; he
is not then master of loving, or not loving the object of his tenderness;
he is not master of his imagination or temperament. Whence it evidently
follows, that man is not master of his volitions and desires. "But man,"
you will say, "can resist his desires; therefore he is free." Man resists
his desires, when the motives, which divert him from an object, are
stronger than those, which incline him towards it; but then his resistance
is necessary. A man, whose fear of dishonour or punishment is greater than
his love of money, necessarily resists the desire of stealing.
"Are we not free, when we deliberate?" But, are we masters of knowing or
not knowing, of being in doubt or certainty? Deliberation is a necessary
effect of our uncertainty respecting the consequences of our actions. When
we are sure, or think we are sure, of these consequences, we necessarily
decide, and we then act necessarily according to our true or false
judgment. Our judgments, true or false, are not free; they are necessarily
determined by the ideas, we have received, or which our minds have formed.
Man is not free in his choice; he is evidently necessitated to choose what
he judges most useful and agreeable. Neither is he free, when he suspends
his choice; he is forced to suspend it until he knows, or thinks he knows,
the qualities of the objects presented to him, or, until he has weighed
the consequences of his actions. "Man," you will say, "often decides in
favour of actions, which he knows must be detrimental to himself; man
sometimes kills himself; therefore he is free." I deny it. Is man master
of reasoning well or ill? Do not his reason and wisdom depend upon the
opinions he has formed, or upon the conformation of his machine? As
neither one nor the other depends upon his will, they are no proof of
liberty. "If I lay a wager, that I shall do, or not do a thing, am I
not free? Does it not depend upon me to do it or not?" No, I answer; the
desire of winning the wager will necessarily determine you to do, or not
to do the thing in question. "But, supposing I consent to lose the wager?"
Then the desire of proving to me, that you are free, will have become a
stronger motive than the desire of winning the wager; and this motive
will have necessarily determined you to do, or not to do, the thing in
question.
"But," you will say, "I feel free." This is an illusion, that may be
compared to that of the fly in the fable, who, lighting upon the pole of
a heavy carriage, applauded himself for directing its course. Man, who
thinks himself free, is a fly, who imagines he has power to move the
universe, while he is himself unknowingly carried along by it.
The inward persuasion that we are free to do, or not to do a thing, is but
a mere illusion. If we trace the true principle of our actions, we shall
find, that they are always necessary consequences of our volitions and
desires, which are never in our power. You think yourself free, because
you do what you will; but are you free to will, or not to will; to desire,
or not to desire? Are not your volitions and desires necessarily excited
by objects or qualities totally independent of you?
81.
"If the actions of men are necessary, if men are not free, by what right
does society punish criminals? Is it not very unjust to chastise beings,
who could not act otherwise than they have done?" If the wicked act
necessarily according to the impulses of their evil nature, society,
in punishing them, acts necessarily by the desire of self-preservation.
Certain objects necessarily produce in us the sensation of pain; our
nature then forces us against them, and avert them from us. A tiger,
pressed by hunger, springs upon the man, whom he wishes to devour; but
this man is not master of his fear, and necessarily seeks means to destroy
the tiger.
82.
"If every thing be necessary, the errors, opinions, and ideas of men
are fatal; and, if so, how or why should we attempt to reform them?" The
errors of men are necessary consequences of ignorance. Their ignorance,
prejudice, and credulity are necessary consequences of their inexperience,
negligence, and want of reflection, in the same manner as delirium or
lethargy are necessary effects of certain diseases. Truth, experience,
reflection, and reason, are remedies calculated to cure ignorance,
fanaticism and follies. But, you will ask, why does not truth produce this
effect upon many disordered minds? It is because some diseases resist all
remedies; because it is impossible to cure obstinate patients, who refuse
the remedies presented to them; because the interest of some men, and the
folly of others, necessarily oppose the admission of truth.
A cause produces its effect only when its action is not interrupted by
stronger causes, which then weakens or render useless, the action of the
former. It is impossible that the best arguments should be adopted by men,
who are interested in error, prejudiced in its favour, and who decline all
reflection; but truth must necessarily undeceive honest minds, who seek
her sincerely. Truth is a cause; it necessarily produces its effects, when
its impulse is not intercepted by causes, which suspend its effects.
83.
"To deprive man of his free will," it is said, "makes him a mere machine,
an automaton. Without liberty, he will no longer have either merit or
virtue." What is merit in man? It is a manner of acting, which renders
him estimable in the eyes of his fellow-beings. What is virtue? It is a
disposition, which inclines us to do good to others. What can there be
contemptible in machines, or automatons, capable of producing effects so
desirable? Marcus Aurelius was useful to the vast Roman Empire. By what
right would a machine despise a machine, whose springs facilitate its
action? Good men are springs, which second society in its tendency to
happiness; the wicked are ill-formed springs, which disturb the order,
progress, and harmony of society. If, for its own utility, society
cherishes and rewards the good, it also harasses and destroys the wicked,
as useless or hurtful.
84.
The world is a necessary agent. All the beings, that compose it, are
united to each other, and cannot act otherwise than they do, so long as
they are moved by the same causes, and endued with the same properties.
When they lose properties, they will necessarily act in a different way.
God himself, admitting his existence, cannot be considered a free
agent. If there existed a God, his manner of acting would necessarily
be determined by the properties inherent in his nature; nothing would be
capable of arresting or altering his will. This being granted, neither our
actions, prayers, nor sacrifices could suspend, or change his invariable
conduct and immutable designs; whence we are forced to infer, that all
religion would be useless.
85.
Were not divines in perpetual contradiction with themselves, they would
see, that, according to their hypothesis, man cannot be reputed free an
instant. Do they not suppose man continually dependent on his God? Are we
free, when we cannot exist and be preserved without God, and when we cease
to exist at the pleasure of his supreme will? If God has made man out of
nothing; if his preservation is a continued creation; if God cannot, an
instant, lose sight of his creature; if whatever happens to him, is an
effect of the divine will; if man can do nothing of himself; if all the
events, which he experiences, are effects of the divine decrees; if he
does no good without grace from on high, how can they maintain, that a man
enjoys a moment's liberty? If God did not preserve him in the moment
of sin, how could man sin? If God then preserves him, God forces him to
exist, that he may sin.
86.
The Divinity is frequently compared to a king, whose revolted subjects are
the greater part of mankind; and it is said, he has a right to reward the
subjects who remain faithful to him, and to punish the rebellious. This
comparison is not just in any of its parts. God presides over a machine,
every spring of which he has created. These springs act agreeable to the
manner, in which God has formed them; he ought to impute it to his own
unskilfulness, if these springs do not contribute to the harmony of the
machine, into which it was his will to insert them. God is a created king,
who has created to himself subjects of every description; who has formed
them according to his own pleasure whose will can never find resistance.
If God has rebellious subjects in his empire, it is because God has
resolved to have rebellious subjects. If the sins of men disturb the order
of the world, it is because it is the will of God that this order should
be disturbed.
Nobody dares to call in question the divine justice; yet, under the
government of a just God, we see nothing but acts of injustice and
violence. Force decides the fate of nations, equity seems banished from
the earth; a few men sport, unpunished, with the peace, property, liberty,
and life of others. All is disorder in a world governed by a God who is
said to be infinitely displeased with disorder.
87.
Although men are for ever admiring the wisdom, goodness, justice, and
beautiful order of Providence, they are, in reality, never satisfied with
it. Do not the prayers, continually addressed to heaven, shew, that men
are by no means satisfied with the divine dispensations? To pray to God
for a favour, shews diffidence of his watchful care; to pray to him to
avert or put an end to an evil, is to endeavour to obstruct the course
of his justice; to implore the assistance of God in our calamities, is to
address the author himself of these calamities, to represent to him, that
he ought, for our sake, to rectify his plan, which does not accord with
our interest.
The Optimist, or he who maintains that _all is well_, and who incessantly
cries that we live in _the best world possible_, to be consistent, should
never pray; neither ought he to expect another world, where man will be
happier. Can there be a better world than _the best world possible_? Some
theologians have treated the Optimists as impious, for having intimated
that God could not produce a better world, than that in which we live.
According to these doctors, it is to limit the power of God, and to
offer him insult. But do not these divines see, that it shews much less
indignity to God, to assert that he has done his best in producing this
world, than to say, that, being able to produce a better, he has had
malice enough to produce a very bad one? If the Optimist, by his system,
detracts from the divine power, the theologian, who treats him as a
blasphemer, is himself a blasphemer, who offends the goodness of God in
espousing the cause of his omnipotence.
88.
When we complain of the evils, of which our world is the theatre, we are
referred to the other world, where it is said, God will make reparation
for all the iniquity and misery, which, for a time, he permits here below.
But if God, suffering his eternal justice to remain at rest for a long
time, could consent to evil during the whole continuance of our present
world, what assurance have we, that, during the continuance of another
world, divine justice will not, in like manner, sleep over the misery of
its inhabitants?
The divines console us for our sufferings by saying, that God is patient,
and that his justice, though often slow, is not the less sure. But do
they not see, that patience is incompatible with a just, immutable, and
omnipotent being? Can God then permit injustice, even for an instant? To
temporize with a known evil, announces either weakness, uncertainty,
or collusion. To tolerate evil, when one has power to prevent it, is to
consent to the commission of evil.
89.
Divines every where exclaim, that God is infinitely just; but that _his
justice is not the justice of man_. Of what kind or nature then is
this divine justice? What idea can I form of a justice, which so often
resembles injustice? Is it not to confound all ideas of just and unjust,
to say, that what is equitable in God is iniquitous in his creatures?
How can we receive for our model a being, whose divine perfections are
precisely the reverse of human?
"God," it is said, "is sovereign arbiter of our destinies. His supreme
power, which nothing can limit, justly permits him to do with the works
of his own hands according to his good pleasure. A worm, like man, has no
right even to complain." This arrogant style is evidently borrowed from
the language, used by the ministers of tyrants, when they stop the mouths
of those who suffer from their violences. It cannot then be the language
of the ministers of a God, whose equity is highly extolled; it is not made
to be imposed upon a being, who reasons. Ministers of a just God! I will
inform you then, that the greatest power cannot confer upon your God
himself the right of being unjust even to the vilest of his creatures. A
despot is not a God. A God, who arrogates to himself the right of doing
evil, is a tyrant; a tyrant is not a model for men; he must be an object
execrable to their eyes.
Is it not indeed strange, that in order to justify the Divinity, they make
him every moment the most unjust of beings! As soon as we complain of his
conduct, they think to silence us by alleging, that _God is master_; which
signifies, that God, being the strongest, is not bound by ordinary rules.
But the right of the strongest is the violation of all rights. It seems
right only to the eyes of a savage conqueror, who in the heat of his fury
imagines, that he may do whatever he pleases with the unfortunate victims,
whom he has conquered. This barbarous right can appear legitimate only to
slaves blind enough to believe that everything is lawful to tyrants whom
they feel too weak to resist.
In the greatest calamities, do not devout persons, through a ridiculous
simplicity, or rather a sensible contradiction in terms, exclaim, that
_the Almighty is master_. Thus, inconsistent reasoners, believe, that the
_Almighty_ (a Being, one of whose first attributes is goodness,) sends you
pestilence, war, and famine! You believe that the _Almighty_, this good
being, has the will and right to inflict the greatest evils, you can bear!
Cease, at least, to call your God _good_, when he does you evil; say not,
that he is just, say that he is the strongest, and that it is impossible
for you to ward off the blows of his caprice.
_God_, say you, _chastises only for our good_. But what real good can
result to a people from being exterminated by the plague, ravaged by wars,
corrupted by the examples of perverse rulers, continually crushed under
the iron sceptre of a succession of merciless tyrants, annihilated by the
scourges of a bad government, whose destructive effects are often felt for
ages? If chastisements are good, then they cannot have too much of a good
thing! _The eyes of faith_ must be strange eyes, if with them they see
advantages in the most dreadful calamities, in the vices and follies with
which our species are afflicted.
90.
What strange ideas of divine justice must Christians have, who are taught
to believe, that their God, in view of reconciling to himself the human
race, guilty, though unconscious, of the sin of their fathers, has put to
death his own son, who was innocent and incapable of sinning? What should
we say of a king, whose subjects should revolt, and who, to appease
himself, should find no other expedient than to put to death the heir of
his crown, who had not participated in the general rebellion? "It is,"
the Christian will say, "through goodness to his subjects, unable of
themselves to satisfy divine justice, that God has consented to the cruel
death of his son." But the goodness of a father to strangers does not
give him the right of being unjust and barbarous to his own son. All
the qualities, which theology ascribes to God, reciprocally destroy one
another. The exercise of one of his perfections is always at the expense
of the exercise of another.
Has the Jew more rational ideas of divine justice than the Christian?
The pride of a king kindles the anger of heaven; _Jehovah_ causes the
pestilence to descend upon his innocent people; seventy thousand subjects
are exterminated to expiate the fault of a monarch, whom the goodness of
God resolved to spare.
91.
Notwithstanding the various acts of injustice, with which all religions
delight to blacken the Divinity, men cannot consent to accuse him of
iniquity. They fear, that, like the tyrants of this world, truth will
offend him, and redouble upon them the weight of his malice and tyranny.
They hearken therefore to their priests, who tell them, that their God
is a tender father; that this God is an equitable monarch whose object in
this world is to assure himself of the love, obedience and respect of
his subjects; who gives them liberty of acting only to afford them
an opportunity of meriting his favours, and of acquiring an eternal
happiness, which he does not owe them. By what signs can men discover
the tenderness of a father, who has given life to the greater part of his
children merely to drag out upon the earth a painful, restless, bitter
existence? Is there a more unfortunate present, than that pretended
liberty, which, we are told, men are very liable to abuse, and thereby to
incur eternal misery?
92.
By calling mortals to life, what a cruel and dangerous part has not the
Deity forced them to act? Thrown into the world without their consent,
provided with a temperament of which they are not masters, animated by
passions and desires inherent in their nature, exposed to snares which
they have not power to escape, hurried away by events which they could not
foresee or prevent, unhappy mortals are compelled to run a career, which
may lead them to punishments horrible in duration and violence.
Travellers inform us, that, in Asia, a Sultan reigned, full of fantastical
ideas, and very absolute in his whims. By a strange madness, this prince
spent his time seated at a table, upon which were placed three dice and a
dice-box. One end of the table was covered with pieces of silver, designed
to excite the avarice of his courtiers and people. He, knowing the
foible of his subjects, addresses them as follows: _Slaves, I wish your
happiness. My goodness proposes to enrich you, and make you all happy. Do
you see these treasures? Well, they are for you; strive to gain them; let
each, in his turn, take the box and dice; whoever has the fortune to throw
sixes, shall be master of the treasure. But, I forewarn you, that he who
has not the happiness to throw the number required, shall be precipitated
for ever into a dark dungeon, where my justice demands that he be burned
with a slow fire._ Upon this discourse of the monarch, the company look at
each other affrighted. No one wishes to expose himself to so dangerous
a chance. _What!_ says the enraged Sultan, _does no one offer to play? I
tell you then you must; My glory requires that you should play. Play then;
obey without replying._ It is well to observe, that the dice of the despot
are so prepared, that out of a hundred thousand throws, there is but one,
which can gain the number required. Thus the generous monarch has the
pleasure of seeing his prison well filled, and his riches seldom ravished
from him. Mortals! this SULTAN is your GOD; his TREASURE IS HEAVEN; his
DUNGEON IS HELL, and it is you who hold the DICE!
93.
Divines repeatedly assure us, that we owe Providence infinite gratitude
for the numberless blessings it bestows. They loudly extol the happiness
of existence. But, alas! how many mortals are truly satisfied with their
mode of existence? If life has sweets, with how much bitterness is it not
mixed? Does not a single chagrin often suffice suddenly to poison the most
peaceable and fortunate life? Are there many, who, if it were in their
power would begin again, at the same price, the painful career, in which,
without their consent, destiny has placed them?
They say, that existence is a great blessing. But is not this existence
continually troubled with fears, and maladies, often cruel and little
deserved? May not this existence, threatened on so many sides, be torn
from us any moment? Where is the man, who has not been deprived of a dear
wife, beloved child, or consoling friend, whose loss every moment intrudes
upon his thoughts? There are few, who have not been forced to drink of the
cup of misfortune; there are few, who have not desired their end. Finally,
it did not depend upon us to exist or not to exist. Should the bird then
be very grateful to the fowler for taking him in his net and confining him
in his cage for his diversion?
94.