It appears by theological fictions, that the regions of the other life are

happy and unhappy. Nothing is more difficult than to become worthy of the

abode of felicity; nothing more easy than to obtain a place in the abode

of torment, which God is preparing for the unfortunate victims of

eternal fury. Have those then, who think the other life so pleasant and

flattering, forgotten, that according to them, that life is to be attended

with torments to the greater part of mortals? Is not the idea of total

annihilation infinitely preferable to the idea of an eternal existence,

attended with anguish and _gnashing of teeth_? Is the fear of an end more

afflicting, than that of having had a beginning! The fear of ceasing to

exist is a real evil only to the imagination, which alone begat the dogma

of another life.

Christian ministers say that the idea of a happier life is joyous.

Admitted. Every person would desire a more agreeable existence than that

he enjoys here. But, if paradise is inviting, you will grant, that hell is

frightful. Heaven is very difficult, and hell very easy to be merited. Do

you not say, that a _narrow_ way leads to the happy regions, and a _broad_

way to the regions of misery? Do you not often say, that _the number of

the elect is very small, and that of the reprobate very large_? Is not

Grace, which your God grants but to a very few, necessary to salvation?

Now, I assure you, that these ideas are by no means consoling; that I had

rather be annihilated, once for all, than to burn for ever; that the

fate of beasts is to me more desirable than that of the damned; that the

opinion which relieves me from afflicting fears in this world, appears to

me more joyous, than the uncertainty arising from the opinion of a God,

who, master of his grace, grants it to none but his favourites, and

permits all others to become worthy of eternal torment. Nothing but

enthusiasm or folly can induce a man to prefer improbable conjectures,

attended with uncertainty and insupportable fears.

109.

All religious principles are the work of pure imagination, in which

experience and reason have no share. It is extremely difficult to combat

them, because the imagination, once prepossessed by chimeras, which

astonish or disturb it, is incapable of reasoning. To combat religion and

its phantoms with the arms of reason, is like using a sword to kill gnats;

as soon as the blow is struck, the gnats and chimeras come hovering round

again, and resume in the mind the place, from which they were thought to

have been for ever banished.

When we reject, as too weak, the proofs given of the existence of a God,

they instantly oppose to the arguments, which destroy that existence,

an _inward sense_, a deep persuasion, an invincible inclination, born in

every man, which holds up to his mind, in spite of himself, the idea of an

almighty being, whom he cannot entirely expel from his mind, and whom he

is compelled to acknowledge, in spite of the strongest reasons that can

be urged. But whoever will analyse this _inward sense_, upon which such

stress is laid, will perceive, that it is only the effect of a rooted

habit, which, shutting their eyes against the most demonstrative proofs,

subjects the greater part of men, and often even the most enlightened, to

the prejudices of childhood. What avails this inward sense, or this deep

persuasion, against the evidence, which demonstrates, that _whatever

implies a contradiction cannot exist_?

We are gravely assured, that the non-existence of God is not demonstrated.

Yet, by all that men have hitherto said of him, nothing is better

demonstrated, than that this God is a chimera, whose existence is totally

impossible; since nothing is more evident, than that a being cannot

possess qualities so unlike, so contradictory, so irreconcilable, as

those, which every religion upon earth attributes to the Divinity. Is not

the theologian's God, as well as that of the deist, a cause incompatible

with the effects attributed to it? Let them do what they will, it is

necessary either to invent another God, or to grant, that he, who, for so

many ages, has been held up to the terror of mortals, is at the same time

very good and very bad, very powerful and very weak, unchangeable and

fickle, perfectly intelligent and perfectly void of reason, of order

and permitting disorder, very just and most unjust, very skilful and

unskilful. In short, are we not forced to confess, that it is impossible

to reconcile the discordant attributes, heaped upon a being, of whom

we cannot speak without the most palpable contradictions? Let any

one attribute a single quality to the Divinity, and it is universally

contradicted by the effects, ascribed to this cause.

110.

Theology might justly be defined the _science of contradictions_. Every

religion is only a system, invented to reconcile irreconcilable notions.

By the aid of habit and terror, man becomes obstinate in the greatest

absurdities, even after they are exposed in the clearest manner. All

religions are easily combated, but with difficulty extirpated. Reason

avails nothing against custom, which becomes, says the proverb, _a second

nature_. Many persons, in other respects sensible, even after having

examined the rotten foundation of their belief, adhere to it in contempt

of the most striking arguments. Whenever we complain of religion, its

shocking absurdities, and impossibilities, we are told that we are not

made to understand the truths of religion; that reason goes astray, and is

capable of leading us to perdition; and moreover, that _what is folly

in the eyes of man, is wisdom in the eyes of God_, to whom nothing

is impossible. In short, to surmount, by a single word, the most

insurmountable difficulties, presented on all sides by theology, they get

rid of them by saying, these are _mysteries_!

111.

What is a mystery? By examining the thing closely, I soon perceive, that

a mystery is nothing but a contradiction, a palpable absurdity, a manifest

impossibility, over which theologians would oblige men humbly to shut

their eyes. In a word, a mystery is whatever our spiritual guides cannot

explain.

It is profitable to the ministers of religion, that people understand

nothing of what they teach. It is impossible to examine what we do not

comprehend; when we do not see, we must suffer ourselves to be led. If

religion were clear, priests would find less business.

Without mysteries there can be no religion; mystery is essential to it;

a religion void of mysteries, would be a contradiction in terms. The God,

who serves as the foundation of _natural religion_, or _deism_, is himself

the greatest of mysteries.

112.

Every revealed religion is filled with mysterious dogmas, unintelligible

principles, incredible wonders, astonishing recitals, which appear to have

been invented solely to confound reason. Every religion announces a hidden

God, whose essence is a mystery; consequently, the conduct, ascribed to

him, is no less inconceivable than his essence. The Deity has never spoken

only in an enigmatical and mysterious manner, in the various religions,

which have been founded in different regions of our globe; he has

everywhere revealed himself only to announce mysteries; that is, to

inform mortals, that he intended they should believe contradictions,

impossibilities, and things to which they were incapable of affixing any

clear ideas.

The more mysterious and incredible a religion is, the more power it has

to please the imagination of men. The darker a religion is, the more it

appears divine, that is, conformable to the nature of a hidden being, of

whom they have no ideas. Ignorance prefers the unknown, the hidden, the

fabulous, the marvellous, the incredible, or even the terrible, to what is

clear, simple, and true. Truth does not operate upon the imagination in so

lively a manner as fiction, which, in other respects, everyone is able to

arrange in his own way. The vulgar like to listen to fables. Priests and

legislators, by inventing religions and forging mysteries have served the

vulgar people well. They have thereby gained enthusiasts, women and fools.

Beings of this stamp are easily satisfied with things, which they are

incapable of examining. The love of simplicity and truth is to be

found only among the few, whose imagination is regulated by study and

reflection.

The inhabitants of a village are never better pleased with their parson,

than when he introduces Latin into his sermon. The ignorant always

imagine, that he, who speaks to them of things they do not understand, is

a learned man. Such is the true principle of the credulity of the people,

and of the authority of those, who pretend to guide nations.

113.

To announce mysteries to men, is to give and withhold; it is to talk in

order not to be understood. He, who speaks only obscurely, either seeks to

amuse himself by the embarrassment, which he causes, or finds his interest

in not explaining himself too clearly. All secrecy indicates distrust,

impotence, and fear. Princes and their ministers make a mystery of their

projects, for fear their enemies should discover and render them abortive.

Can a good God amuse himself by perplexing his creatures? What interest

then could he have in commanding his ministers to announce riddles and

mysteries?

It is said, that man, by the weakness of his nature, is totally incapable

of understanding the divine dispensations, which can be to him only a

series of mysteries; God cannot disclose to him secrets, necessarily above

his reach. If so, I answer again, that man is not made to attend to the

divine dispensations; that these dispensations are to him by no means

interesting; that he has no need of mysteries, which he cannot understand;

and consequently, that a mysterious religion is no more fit for him, than

an eloquent discourse is for a flock of sheep.

114.

The Deity has revealed himself with so little uniformity in the different

countries of our globe, that in point of religion, men regard one another

with hatred and contempt. The partisans of the different sects think

each other very ridiculous and foolish. Mysteries, most revered in one

religion, are objects of derision to another. God, in revealing himself

to mankind, ought at least, to have spoken the same language to all, and

saved their feeble minds the perplexity of inquiring which religion really

emanated from him, or what form of worship is most acceptable in his

sight.

A universal God ought to have revealed a universal religion. By what

fatality then are there so many different religions upon earth? Which is

really right, among the great number of those, each of which exclusively

pretends to be the true one? There is great reason to believe, that no

religion enjoys this advantage. Division and disputes upon opinions are

indubitable signs of the uncertainty and obscurity of the principles, upon

which they build.

115.

If religion were necessary at all, it ought to be intelligible to all. If

this religion were the most important concern of men, the goodness of God

would seem to demand, that it should be to them of all things the most

clear, evident, and demonstrative. Is it not then astonishing, that this

thing so essential to the happiness of mortals, is precisely that, which

they understand least, and about which, for so many ages, their teachers

have most disputed? Priests have never agreed upon the manner of

understanding the will of a God, who has revealed himself.

The world, may be compared to a public fair, in which are several

empirics, each of whom endeavours to attract the passengers by decrying

the remedies sold by his brothers. Each shop has its customers, who

are persuaded, that their quacks possess the only true remedies; and

notwithstanding a continual use of them, they perceive not the inefficacy

of these remedies, or that they are as infirm as those, who run after the

quacks of a different shop.

Devotion is a disorder of the imagination contracted in infancy. The

devout man is a hypochondriac, who only augments his malady by the

application of remedies. The wise man abstains from them entirely; he pays

attention to his diet, and in other respects leaves nature to her course.

116.

To a man of sense, nothing appears more ridiculous, than the opinions,

which the partisans of the different religions with equal folly entertain

of each other. A Christian regards the _Koran_, that is, the divine

revelation announced by Mahomet, as nothing but a tissue of impertinent

reveries, and impostures insulting to the divinity. The Mahometan, on the

other hand, treats the Christian as an _idolater_ and a _dog_. He sees

nothing but absurdities in his religion. He imagines he has a right to

subdue the Christian, and to force him, sword in hand, to receive the

religion of his divine prophet. Finally, he believes, that nothing is

more impious and unreasonable, than to worship a man, or to believe in the

Trinity. The _protestant_ Christian who without scruple worships a man,

and firmly believes the inconceivable mystery of the _trinity_,

ridicules the _catholic_ Christian for believing in the mystery of

_transubstantiation_; he considers him mad, impious, and idolatrous,

because he kneels to worship some bread, in which he thinks he sees God.

Christians of every sect regard, as silly stories, the incarnations

of _Vishnu_, the God of the Indies; they maintain, that the only true

_incarnation_ is that of _Jesus_, son of a carpenter. The deist, who

calls himself the follower of a religion, which he supposes to be that of

nature, content with admitting a God, of whom he has no idea, makes a jest

of all the mysteries, taught by the various religions in the world.

117.

Is there any thing more contradictory, impossible, or mysterious, than the

creation of matter by an immaterial being, who, though immutable, operates

continual changes in the world? Is any thing more incompatible with every

notion of common sense, than to believe, that a supremely good, wise,

equitable and powerful being presides over nature, and by himself directs

the movements of a world, full of folly, misery, crimes and disorders,

which by a single word, he could have prevented or removed? In fine,

whenever we admit a being as contradictory as the God of theology, how can

we reject the most improbable fables, astonishing miracles, and profound

mysteries.

118.

The Deist exclaims: "Abstain from worshipping the cruel and capricious God

of theology; mine is a being infinitely wise and good; he is the father of

men, the mildest of sovereigns; it is he who fills the universe with his

benefits." But do you not see that every thing in this world contradicts

the good qualities, which you ascribe to your God? In the numerous family

of this tender father, almost all are unhappy. Under the government of

this just sovereign, vice is triumphant, and virtue in distress. Among

those blessings you extol, and which only enthusiasm can see, I behold a

multitude of evils, against which you obstinately shut your eyes. Forced

to acknowledge, that your beneficent God, in contradiction with himself,

distributes good and evil with the same hand, for his justification you

must, like the priest, refer me to the regions of another life. Invent,

therefore, another God; for yours is no less contradictory than that of

theologians.

A good God, who does evil, or consents to the commission of evil; a

God full of equity, and in whose empire innocence is often oppressed; a

perfect God, who produces none but imperfect and miserable works; are not

such a God and his conduct as great mysteries, as that of the incarnation?

You blush for your fellow-citizens, who allow themselves to be persuaded,

that the God of the universe could change himself into a man, and die upon

a cross in a corner of Asia. The mystery of the incarnation appears to you

very absurd. You think nothing more ridiculous, than a God, who transforms

himself into bread, and causes himself daily to be eaten in a thousand

different places. But are all these mysteries more contradictory to

reason than a God, the avenger and rewarder of the actions of men? Is man,

according to you, free, or not free? In either case, your God, if he has

the shadow of equity, can neither punish nor reward him. If man is free,

it is God, who has made him free; therefore God is the primitive cause of

all his actions; in punishing him for his faults, he would punish him for

having executed what he had given him liberty to do. If man is not free to

act otherwise than he does, would not God be most unjust, in punishing man

for faults, which he could not help committing.

The minor, or secondary, absurdities, with which all religions abound, are

to many people truly striking; but they have not the courage to trace

the source of these absurdities. They see not, that a God full of

contradictions, caprices and inconsistent qualities, has only served

to disorder men's imaginations, and to produce an endless succession of

chimeras.

119.

The theologian would shut the mouths of those who deny the existence of

God, by saying, that all men, in all ages and countries, have acknowledged

some divinity or other; that every people have believed in an invisible

and powerful being, who has been the object of their worship and

veneration; in short, that there is no nation, however savage, who are not

persuaded of the existence of some intelligence superior to human nature.

But, can an error be changed into truth by the belief of all men? The

great philosopher Bayle has justly observed, that "general tradition, or

the unanimous consent of mankind, is no criterion of truth."

There was a time, when all men believed that the sun moved round the

earth, but this error was detected. There was a time, when nobody believed

the existence of the antipodes, and when every one was persecuted, who

had temerity enough to maintain it. At present, every informed man firmly

believes it. All nations, with the exception of a few men who are less

credulous than the rest, still believe in ghosts and spirits. No sensible

man now adopts such nonsense. But the most sensible people consider it

their duty to believe in a universal spirit!

120.

All the gods, adored by men, are of savage origin. They have evidently

been imagined by stupid people, or presented, by ambitious and crafty

legislators, to ignorant and uncivilized nations, who had neither capacity

nor courage to examine the objects, which through terror they were made to

worship.

By closely examining God, we are forced to acknowledge, that he evidently

bears marks of a savage nature. To be savage is to acknowledge no right

but force; it is to be cruel beyond measure; to follow only one's own

caprice; to want foresight, prudence, and reason. Ye nations, who call

yourselves civilized! Do you not discern, in this hideous character, the

God, on whom you lavish your incense? Are not the descriptions given

you of the divinity, visibly borrowed from the implacable, jealous,

revengeful, sanguinary, capricious inconsiderate humour of man, who has

not cultivated his reason? O men! You adore only a great savage, whom

you regard, however, as a model to imitate, as an amiable master, as a

sovereign full of perfection.

Religious opinions are ancient monuments of ignorance, credulity,

cowardice, and barbarism of their ancestors. Every savage is a child

fond of the marvellous, who believes every thing, and examines nothing.

Ignorant of nature, he attributes to spirits, enchantments, and to

magic, whatever appears to him extraordinary. His priests appear to him

sorcerers, in whom he supposes a power purely divine, before whom his

confounded reason humbles itself, whose oracles are to him infallible

decrees which it would be dangerous to contradict.

In religion, men have, for the most part, remained in their primitive

barbarity. Modern religions are only ancient follies revived, or presented

under some new form. If the savages of antiquity adored mountains, rivers,

serpents, trees, and idols of every kind; if the EGYPTIANS paid homage to

crocodiles, rats, and onions, do we not see nations, who think themselves

wiser than they, worship bread, into which they imagine, that through

the enchantments of their priests, the divinity has descended. Is not the

Bread-God the idol of many Christian nations, who, in this respect, are as

irrational, as the most savage?

121.

The ferocity, stupidity, and folly of uncivilized man have ever disclosed

themselves in religious practices, either cruel or extravagant. A spirit

of barbarity still survives, and penetrates the religions even of the

most polished nations. Do we not still see human victims offered to

the divinity? To appease the anger of a God, who is always supposed as

ferocious, jealous and vindictive, as a savage, do not those, whose manner

of thinking is supposed to displease him, expire under studied torments,

by the command of sanguinary laws? Modern nations, at the instigation of

their priests, have perhaps improved upon the atrocious folly of barbarous

nations; at least, we find, that it has ever entered the heads of savages

to torment for opinions, to search the thoughts, to molest men for the

invisible movements of their brains?

When we see learned nations, such as the English, French, German, etc.,

continue, notwithstanding their knowledge, to kneel before the barbarous

God of the Jews; when we see these enlightened nations divide into

sects, defame, hate, and despise one another for their equally ridiculous

opinions concerning the conduct and intentions of this unreasonable God;

when we see men of ability foolishly devote their time to meditate the

will of this God, who is full of caprice and folly, we are tempted to cry

out: O men, you are still savage!!!

122.

Whoever has formed true ideas of the ignorance, credulity, negligence, and

stupidity of the vulgar, will suspect opinions the more, as he finds

them generally established. Men, for the most part, examine nothing: they

blindly submit to custom and authority. Their religious opinions, above

all others, are those which they have the least courage and capacity to

examine: as they comprehend nothing about them, they are forced to be

silent, or at least are soon destitute of arguments. Ask any man, whether

he believes in a God? He will be much surprised that you can doubt it. Ask

him again, what he understands by the word _God_. You throw him into

the greatest embarrassment; you will perceive immediately, that he is

incapable of affixing any real idea to this word, he incessantly repeats.

He will tell you, that God is God. He knows neither what he thinks of it,

nor his motives for believing in it.

All nations speak of a God; but do they agree upon this God? By no means.

But division upon an opinion proves not its evidence; it is rather a sign

of uncertainty and obscurity. Does the same man always agree with himself

in the notions he forms of his God? No. His idea varies with the changes,

which he experiences;--another sign of uncertainty. Men always agree in

demonstrative truths. In any situation, except that of insanity, every one

knows that two and two make four, that the sun shines, that the whole

is greater than its part; that benevolence is necessary to merit the

affection of men; that injustice and cruelty are incompatible with

goodness. Are they thus agreed when they speak of God? Whatever they

think, or say of him, is immediately destroyed by the effects they

attribute to him.

Ask several painters to represent a chimera, and each will paint it in a

different manner. You will find no resemblance between the features, each

has given it a portrait, that has no original. All theologians, in giving

us a picture of God, give us one of a great chimera, in whose features

they never agree, whom each arranges in his own way, and who exists only

in their imaginations. There are not two individuals, who have, or can

have, the same ideas of their God.

123.

It might be said with more truth, that men are either skeptics or

atheists, than that they are convinced of the existence of God. How can we

be assured of the existence of a being, whom we could never examine,

and of whom it is impossible to conceive any permanent idea? How can

we convince ourselves of the existence of a being, to whom we are

every moment forced to attribute conduct, opposed to the ideas, we had

endeavoured to form of him? Is it then possible to believe what we cannot

conceive? Is not such a belief the opinions of others without having

any of our own? Priests govern by faith; but do not priests themselves

acknowledge that God is to them incomprehensible? Confess then, that a

full and entire conviction of the existence of God is not so general, as

is imagined.

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