of their gods. Not only do the ministers of these gods every where
constitute the first order in the state, but they also enjoy the largest
portion of the goods of society, and have a right to levy permanent taxes
upon their fellow-citizens. What real advantages then do these organs of
the Most High procure the people, for the immense profits extorted from
their industry? In exchange for their riches and benefits, what do they
give them but mysteries, hypotheses, ceremonies, subtle questions, and
endless quarrels, which states are again compelled to pay with blood?
175.
Religion, though said to be the firmest prop of Morality, evidently
destroys its true springs, in order to substitute imaginary ones,
inconceivable chimeras, which, being obviously contrary to reason, nobody
firmly believes. All nations declare that they firmly believe in a God,
who rewards and punishes; all say they are persuaded of the existence of
hell and paradise; yet, do these ideas render men better or counteract
the most trifling interests? Every one assures us, that he trembles at
the judgments of God; yet every one follows his passions, when he thinks
himself sure of escaping the judgments of Man. The fear of invisible
powers is seldom so strong as the fear of visible ones. Unknown or remote
punishments strike the multitude far less forcibly than the sight of
the gallows. Few courtiers fear the anger of their God so much as the
displeasure of their master. A pension, a title, or a riband suffices to
efface the remembrance both of the torments of hell, and of the pleasures
of the celestial court. The caresses of a woman repeatedly prevail over
the menaces of the Most High. A jest, a stroke of ridicule, a witticism,
make more impression upon the man of the world, than all the grave notions
of his Religion.
Are we not assured that _a true repentance_ is enough to appease the
Deity? Yet we do not see that this _true repentance_ is very sincere;
at least, it is rare to see noted thieves, even at the point of death,
restore goods, which they have unjustly acquired. Men are undoubtedly
persuaded, that they shall fit themselves for eternal fire, if they cannot
insure themselves against it. But, "Some useful compacts may be made with
heaven." By giving the church a part of his fortune, almost every devout
rogue may die in peace, without concerning himself in what he gained his
riches.
176.
By the confession of the warmest defenders of Religion and of its utility,
nothing is more rare than sincere conversions, and, we might add, nothing
more unprofitable to society. Men are not disgusted with the world, until
the world is disgusted with them.
If the devout have the talent of pleasing God and his priests, they
have seldom that of being agreeable or useful to society. To a devotee,
Religion is a veil, which covers all passions; pride, ill-humour,
anger, revenge, impatience, and rancour. Devotion arrogates a tyrannical
superiority, which banishes gentleness, indulgence, and gaiety; it
authorizes people to censure their neighbours, to reprove and revile the
profane for the greater glory of God. It is very common to be devout, and
at the same time destitute of every virtue and quality necessary to social
life.
177.
It is asserted, that the dogma of another life is of the utmost importance
to peace and happiness; that without it, men would be destitute of motives
to do good. What need is there of terrors and fables to make man sensible
how he ought to conduct himself? Does not every one see, that he has the
greatest interest, in meriting the approbation, esteem, and benevolence of
the beings who surround him, and in abstaining from every thing, by which
he may incur the censure, contempt, and resentment of society? However
short an entertainment, a conversation, or visit, does not each desire to
act his part decently, and agreeably to himself and others? If life is but
a passage, let us strive to make it easy; which we cannot effect, if we
fail in regard for those who travel with us. Religion, occupied with
its gloomy reveries, considers man merely as a pilgrim upon earth; and
therefore supposes that, in order to travel the more securely, he must
forsake company, and deprive himself of pleasure and amusements, which
might console him for the tediousness and fatigue of the journey. A
stoical and morose philosopher sometimes gives us advice as irrational
as that of Religion. But a more rational philosophy invites us to spread
flowers upon the way of life, to dispel melancholy and banish terrors, to
connect our interest with that of our fellow-travellers, and by gaiety and
lawful pleasures, to divert our attention from difficulties and accidents,
to which we are often exposed; it teaches us, that, to travel agreeably,
we should abstain from what might be injurious to ourselves, and carefully
shun what might render us odious to our associates.
178.
It is asked, _what motives an Atheist can have to do good?_ The motive to
please himself and his fellow-creatures; to live happily and peaceably;
to gain the affection and esteem of men. "Can he, who fears not the gods,
fear any thing?" He can fear men; he can fear contempt, dishonour, the
punishment of the laws; in short, he can fear himself, and the remorse
felt by all those who are conscious of having incurred or merited the
hatred of their fellow-creatures.
Conscience is the internal testimony, which we bear to ourselves, of
having acted so as to merit the esteem or blame of the beings, with whom
we live; and it is founded upon the clear knowledge we have of men, and of
the sentiments which our actions must produce in them. The Conscience of
the religious man consists in imagining that he has pleased or displeased
his God, of whom he has no idea, and whose obscure and doubtful intentions
are explained to him only by men of doubtful veracity, who, like him, are
utterly unacquainted with the essence of the Deity, and are little agreed
upon what can please or displease him. In a word, the conscience of the
credulous is directed by men, who have themselves an erroneous conscience,
or whose interest stifles knowledge.
"Can an Atheist have a Conscience? What are his motives to abstain from
hidden vices and secret crimes of which other men are ignorant, and which
are beyond the reach of laws?" He may be assured by constant experience,
that there is no vice, which, by the nature of things, does not punish
itself. Would he preserve this life? he will avoid every excess, that
may impair his health; he will not wish to lead a languishing life, which
would render him a burden to himself and others. As for secret crimes, he
will abstain from them, for fear he shall be forced to blush at himself,
from whom he cannot flee. If he has any reason, he will know the value
of the esteem which an honest man ought to have for himself. He will
see, that unforeseen circumstances may unveil the conduct, which he feels
interested in concealing from others. The other world furnishes no motives
for doing good, to him, who finds none on earth.
179.
"The speculative Atheist," says the Theist, "may be an honest man, but his
writings will make political Atheists. Princes and ministers, no longer
restrained by the fear of God, will abandon themselves, without scruple,
to the most horrid excesses." But, however great the depravity of an
Atheist upon the throne, can it be stronger and more destructive, than
that of the many conquerors, tyrants, persecutors, ambitious men, and
perverse courtiers, who, though not Atheists, but often very religious and
devout, have notwithstanding made humanity groan under the weight of their
crimes? Can an atheistical prince do more harm to the world, than a
Louis XI., a Philip II., a Richelieu, who all united Religion with crime?
Nothing is more rare, than atheistical princes; nothing more common, than
tyrants and ministers, who are very wicked and very religious.
180.
A man of reflection cannot be incapable of his duties, of discovering
the relations subsisting between men, of meditating his own nature, of
discerning his own wants, propensities, and desires, and of perceiving
what he owes to beings, who are necessary to his happiness. These
reflections naturally lead him to a knowledge of the Morality most
essential to social beings. Dangerous passions seldom fall to the lot of
a man who loves to commune with himself, to study, and to investigate the
principles of things. The strongest passion of such a man will be to know
truth, and his ambition to teach it to others. Philosophy cultivates the
mind. On the score of morals and honesty, has not he who reflects and
reasons, evidently an advantage over him, who makes it a principle never
to reason?
If ignorance is useful to priests, and to the oppressors of mankind, it is
fatal to society. Man, void of knowledge, does not enjoy reason; without
reason and knowledge, he is a savage, liable to commit crimes. Morality,
or the science of duties, is acquired only by the study of Man, and of
what is relative to Man. He, who does not reflect, is unacquainted with
true Morality, and walks with precarious steps, in the path of virtue. The
less men reason, the more wicked they are. Savages, princes, nobles,
and the dregs of the people, are commonly the worst of men, because they
reason the least. The devout man seldom reflects, and rarely reasons. He
fears all enquiry, scrupulously follows authority, and often, through an
error of conscience, makes it a sacred duty to commit evil. The Atheist
reasons: he consults experience, which he prefers to prejudice. If he
reasons justly, his conscience is enlightened; he finds more real motives
to do good than the bigot whose only motives are his fallacies, and who
never listens to reason. Are not the motives of the Atheist sufficiently
powerful to counteract his passions? Is he blind enough to be unmindful
of his true interest, which ought to restrain him? But he will be neither
worse nor better, than the numerous believers, who, notwithstanding
Religion and its sublime precepts, follow a conduct which Religion
condemns. Is a credulous assassin less to be feared, than an assassin who
believes nothing? Is a very devout tyrant less tyrannical than an undevout
tyrant?
181.
Nothing is more uncommon, than to see men consistent. Their opinions never
influence their conduct except when conformable to their temperaments,
passions, and interests. Daily experience shows, that religious opinions
produce much evil and little good. They are hurtful, because they often
favour the passions of tyrants, of ambitious men, of fanatics, and of
priests; they are of no effect, because incapable of counter-balancing the
present interests of the greater part of mankind. Religious principles
are of no avail, when they act in opposition to ardent desires; though not
unbelievers, men then conduct themselves as if they believed nothing.
We shall always be liable to err, when we judge of the opinions of men
by their conduct, or of their conduct by their opinions. A religious man,
notwithstanding the unsociable principles of a sanguinary religion, will
sometimes by a happy inconsistency, be humane, tolerant, and moderate; the
principles of his religion do not then agree with the gentleness of his
character. Libertines, debauchees, hypocrites, adulterers, and rogues,
often appear to have the best ideas upon morals. Why do they not reduce
them to practice? Because their temperament, their interest, and their
habits do not accord with their sublime theories. The rigid principles of
Christian morality, which many people regard as divine, have but little
influence upon the conduct of those, who preach them to others. Do they
not daily tell us, _to do what they preach, and not what they practise?_
The partisans of Religion often denote an infidel by the word _libertine_.
It is possible that many unbelievers may have loose morals, which is
owing to their temperament, and not to their opinions. But how does
their conduct affect their opinions? Cannot then an immoral man be a good
physician, architect, geometrician, logician, or metaphysician? A man of
irreproachable conduct may be extremely deficient in knowledge and reason.
In quest of truth, it little concerns us from whom it comes. Let us not
judge men by their opinions, nor opinions by men; let us judge men by
their conduct, and their opinions by their conformity with experience and
reason and by their utility to mankind.
182.
Every man, who reasons, soon becomes an unbeliever; for reason shows, that
theology is nothing but a tissue of chimeras; that religion is contrary to
every principle of good sense, that it tinctures all human knowledge with
falsity. The sensible man is an unbeliever, because he sees, that, far
from making men happier, religion is the chief source of the greatest
disorders, and the permanent calamities, with which man is afflicted. The
man, who seeks his own welfare and tranquillity, examines and throws aside
religion, because he thinks it no less troublesome than useless, to spend
his life in trembling before phantoms, fit to impose only upon silly women
or children.
If licentiousness, which reasons but little, sometimes leads to
irreligion, the man of pure morals may have very good motives for
examining his religion, and banishing it from his mind. Religious terrors,
too weak to impose upon the wicked in whom vice is deeply rooted, afflict,
torment and overwhelm restless imaginations. Courageous and vigorous
minds soon shake off the insupportable yoke. But those, who are weak and
timorous, languish under it during life; and as they grow old their fears
increase.
Priests have represented God as so malicious, austere, and terrible a
being, that most men would cordially wish, that there was no God. It is
impossible to be happy, while always trembling. Ye devout! you adore a
terrible God! But you hate him; you would be glad, if he did not exist.
Can we refrain from desiring the absence or destruction of a master, the
idea of whom destroys our happiness? The black colours, in which priests
paint the Divinity, are truly shocking, and force us to hate and reject
him.
183.
If fear created the gods, fear supports their empire over the minds of
mortals. So early are men accustomed to shudder at the mere name of the
Deity, that they regard him as a spectre, a hobgoblin, a bugbear, which
torments and deprives them of courage even to wish relief from their
fears. They apprehend, that the invisible spectre, will strike them the
moment they cease to be afraid. Bigots are too much in fear of their God
to love him sincerely. They serve him like slaves, who, unable to escape
his power, resolve to flatter their master, and who, by dint of lying, at
length persuade themselves, that they in some measure love him. They make
a virtue of necessity. The love of devotees for their God, and of slaves
for their despots, is only a feigned homage.
184.
Christian divines have represented their God so terrible and so little
worthy of love, that several of them have thought they must dispense
with loving him; a blasphemy, shocking to other divines, who were less
ingenuous. St. Thomas having maintained, that we are obliged to love God
as soon as we attain the use of reason, the Jesuit Sirmond answered him,
_that is very soon_. The Jesuit Vasquez assures us, that _it is enough to
love God at the point of death_. Hurtado, more rigid, says, _we must
love God very year_. Henriquez is contented that we love him _every five
years_; Sotus, _every Sunday_. Upon what are these opinions grounded? asks
father Sirmond; who adds, that Suarez requires us to _love God sometimes_.
But when? He leaves that to us; he knows nothing about it himself. _Now_,
says he, _who will be able to know that, of which such a learned divine is
ignorant?_ The same Jesuit Sirmond further observes, that _God_ "does not
command us to love him with an affectionate love, nor does he promise us
salvation upon condition that we give him our hearts; it is enough to obey
and love him with an effective love by executing his orders; this is the
only love we owe him; and he has not so much commanded us to love him, as
not to hate him." This doctrine appears heretical, impious, and abominable
to the Jansenists, who, by the revolting severity they attribute to their
God, make him far less amiable, than the Jesuits, their adversaries. The
latter, to gain adherents, paint God in colours capable of encouraging
the most perverse of mortals. Thus nothing is more undecided with the
Christians, than the important question, whether they can, ought, or
ought not to love God. Some of their spiritual guides maintain, that it
is necessary to love him with all one's heart, notwithstanding all his
severity; others, like father Daniel, think that, _an act of pure love
to God is the most heroic act of Christian virtue, and almost beyond the
reach of human weakness_. The Jesuit Pintereau goes farther; he says, _a
deliverance from the grievous yoke of loving God is a privilege of the new
covenant_.
185.
The character of the Man always decides that of his God; every body
makes one for himself and like himself. The man of gaiety, involved in
dissipation and pleasure, does not imagine, that, God can be stern and
cross; he wants a good-natured God, with whom he can find reconciliation.
The man of a rigid, morose, bilious, sour disposition, must have a God
like himself, a God of terror; and he regards, as perverse, those, who
admit a placable, indulgent God. As men are constituted, organized, and
modified in a manner, which cannot be precisely the same, how can they
agree about a chimera, which exists only in their brains?
The cruel and endless disputes between the ministers of the Lord, are not
such as to attract the confidence of those, who impartially consider them.
How can we avoid complete infidelity, upon viewing principles, about which
those who teach them to others are never agreed? How can we help doubting
the existence of a God, of whom it is evident that even his ministers
can only form very fluctuating ideas? How can we in short avoid totally
rejecting a God, who is nothing but a shapeless heap of contradictions?
How can we refer the matter to the decision of priests, who are
perpetually at war, treating each other as impious and heretical, defaming
and persecuting each other without mercy, for differing in the manner of
understanding what they announce to the world?
186.
The existence of a God is the basis of all Religion. Nevertheless, this
important truth has not as yet been demonstrated, I do not say so as
to convince unbelievers, but in a manner satisfactory to theologians
themselves. Profound thinkers have at all times been occupied in inventing
new proofs. What are the fruits of their meditations and arguments?
They have left the subject in a worse condition; they have demonstrated
nothing; they have almost always excited the clamours of their brethren,
who have accused them of having poorly defended the best of causes.
187.
The apologists of religion daily repeat, that the passions alone make
unbelievers. "Pride," say they, "and the desire of signalizing themselves,
make men Atheists. They endeavour to efface from their minds the idea
of God, only because they have reason to fear his terrible judgments."
Whatever may be the motives, which incline men to Atheism, it is our
business to examine, whether their sentiments are founded in truth. No man
acts without motives. Let us first examine the arguments and afterwards
the motives. We shall see whether these motives are not legitimate, and
more rational than those of many credulous bigots, who suffer themselves
to be guided by masters little worthy of the confidence of men.
You say then, Priests of the Lord! that the passions make unbelievers;
that they renounce Religion only through interest, or because it
contradicts their inordinate propensities; you assert, that they attack
your gods only because they fear their severity. But, are you yourselves,
in defending Religion and its chimeras, truly exempt from passions and
interests? Who reap advantages from this Religion, for which priests
display so much zeal? Priests. To whom does Religion procure power,
influence, riches, and honours? To Priests. Who wage war, in every
country, against reason, science, truth, and philosophy, and render them
odious to sovereigns and people? Priests. Who profit by the ignorance and
vain prejudices of men? Priests.--Priests! you are rewarded, honoured
and paid for deceiving mortals, and you cause those to be punished who
undeceive them. The follies of men procure you benefices, offerings, and
expiations; while those, who announce the most useful truths, are rewarded
only with chains, gibbets and funeral-piles. Let the world judge between
us.
188.
Pride and vanity have been, and ever will be, inherent in the priesthood.
Is any thing more capable of rendering men haughty and vain, than the
pretence of exercising a power derived from heaven, of bearing a sacred
character, of being the messengers and ministers of the Most High? Are not
these dispositions perpetually nourished by the credulity of the people,
the deference and respect of sovereigns, the immunities, privileges, and
distinctions enjoyed by the clergy? In every country, the vulgar are much
more devoted to their spiritual guides, whom they regard as divine, than
to their temporal superiors, whom they consider as no more than ordinary
men. The parson of a village acts a much more conspicuous part, than the
lord of the manor or the justice of the peace. Among the Christians, a
priest thinks himself far above a king or an emperor. A Spanish grandee
having spoken rather haughtily to a monk, the latter arrogantly said,
"Learn to respect a man, who daily has your God in his hands, and your
Queen at his feet." Have priests then a right to accuse unbelievers of
pride? Are they themselves remarkable for uncommon modesty or profound
humility? Is it not evident, that the desire of domineering over men is
essential to their trade? If the ministers of the Lord were truly modest,
should we see them so greedy of respect, so impatient of contradiction, so
positive in their decisions, and so unmercifully revengeful to those
whose opinions offend them? Has not Science the modesty to acknowledge
how difficult it is to discover truth? What other passion but ungovernable
pride can make men so savage, revengeful, and void of indulgence and
gentleness? What can be more presumptuous, than to arm nations and deluge
the world in blood, in order to establish or defend futile conjectures?