without it; nature would be a perpetual enigma, and man would be incapable
of understanding himself. But, what does this Religion in reality explain?
The more we examine it, the more we are convinced that its theological
notions are fit only to confuse our ideas; they change every thing into
mystery: they explain difficult things by things that are impossible. Is
it a satisfactory explanation of phenomena, to attribute them to unknown
agents, to invisible powers, to immaterial causes? Does the human mind
receive much light by being referred to _the depths of the treasures of
divine wisdom_, to which, we are repeatedly told, it is vain to extend
our rash enquiries? Can the divine nature, of which we have no conception,
enable us to conceive the nature of man?
Ask a Christian, what is the origin of the world? He will answer, that God
created it. What is God? He cannot tell. What is it to create? He knows
not. What is the cause of pestilence, famine, wars, droughts, inundations
and earthquakes? The anger of God. What remedies can be applied to these
calamities? Prayers, sacrifices, processions, offerings, and ceremonies
are, it is said, the true means of disarming celestial fury. But why is
heaven enraged? Because men are wicked. Why are men wicked? Because their
nature is corrupt. What is the cause of this corruption? It is, says the
theologian, because the first man, beguiled by the first woman, ate an
apple, which God had forbidden him to touch. Who beguiled this woman into
such folly? The devil. Who made the devil? God. But, why did God make this
devil, destined to pervert mankind? This is unknown; it is a mystery which
the Deity alone is acquainted with.
It is now universally acknowledged, that the earth turns round the sun.
Centuries ago, this opinion was blasphemy, as being irreconcileable with
the sacred books which every Christian reveres as inspired by the Deity
himself. Notwithstanding divine revelation, astronomers now depend rather
upon evidence, than upon the testimony of their inspired books.
What is the hidden principle of the motions of the human body? The soul.
What is a soul? A spirit. What is a spirit? A substance, which has neither
form, nor colour, nor extension, nor parts. How can we form any idea
of such a substance? How can it move a body? That is not known; it is a
mystery. Have beasts souls? But, do they not act, feel, and think, in a
manner very similar to man? Mere illusion! By what right do you deprive
beasts of a soul, which you attribute to man, though you know nothing at
all about it? Because the souls of beasts would embarrass our theologians,
who are satisfied with the power of terrifying and damning the immaterial
souls of men, and are not so much interested in damning those of beasts.
Such are the puerile solutions, which philosophy, always in the leading
strings of theology, was obliged to invent, in order to explain the
problems of the physical and moral world?
203.
How many evasions have been used, both in ancient and modern times, in
order to avoid an engagement with the ministers of the gods, who have ever
been the tyrants of thought? How many hypotheses and shifts were such men
as Descartes, Mallebranche, and Leibnitz, forced to invent, in order to
reconcile their discoveries with the fables and mistakes which Religion
had consecrated! In what guarded phrases have the greatest philosophers
expressed themselves, even at the risk of being absurd, inconsistent, or
unintelligible, whenever their ideas did not accord with the principles of
theology! Priests have been always attentive to extinguish systems which
opposed their interest. Theology was ever the bed of Procrustes, to be
adapted to which, the limbs of travellers, if too long were cut off, and
if too short were lengthened.
Can any sensible man, delighted with the sciences and attached to the
welfare of his fellow-creatures, reflect, without vexation and anguish,
how many profound, laborious, and subtle brains have been for ages
foolishly occupied in the study of absurdities? What a treasure of
knowledge might have been diffused by many celebrated thinkers, if instead
of engaging in the impertinent disputes of vain theology, they had devoted
their attention to intelligible objects really important to mankind? Half
the efforts which religious opinions have cost genius, and half the wealth
which frivolous forms of worship have cost nations would have sufficed
to instruct them perfectly in morality, politics, natural philosophy,
medicine, agriculture, etc. Superstition generally absorbs the attention,
admiration, and treasures of the people; their Religion costs them very
dear; but they have neither knowledge, virtue, nor happiness, for their
money.
204.
Some ancient and modern philosophers have been bold enough to assume
experience and reason for their guides, and to shake off the chains of
superstition. Democritus, Epicurus, and other Greeks presumed to tear
away the veil of prejudice, and to deliver philosophy from theological
shackles. But their systems, too simple, too sensible, and too free from
the marvellous, for imaginations enamoured with chimeras, were obliged to
yield to the fabulous conjectures of such men as Plato and Socrates. Among
the moderns, Hobbes, Spinosa, Bayle, etc., have followed the steps of
Epicurus; but their doctrine has found very few followers, in a world,
still intoxicated with fables, to listen to reason.
In every age, it has been dangerous to depart from prejudices. Discoveries
of every kind have been prohibited. All that enlightened men could do, was
to speak ambiguously, hence they often confounded falsehood with truth.
Several had a _double doctrine_, one public and the other secret; the
key of the latter being lost, their true sentiments, have often become
unintelligible and consequently useless.
How could modern philosophers, who, under pain of cruel persecution, were
commanded to renounce reason, and to subject it to faith, that is, to the
authority of priests; how, I say, could men, thus bound, give free scope
to their genius, improve reason, and accelerate the progress of the human
mind? It was with fear and trembling that even the greatest men obtained
a glimpse of truth; rarely had they the courage to announce it; and those,
who did, were terribly punished. With Religion, it has ever been unlawful
to think, or to combat the prejudices of which man is every where the
victim and the dupe.
205.
Every man, sufficiently intrepid to announce truths to the world, is sure
of incurring the hatred of the ministers of Religion, who loudly call to
their aid secular powers; and want the assistance of laws to support both
their arguments and their gods. Their clamours expose too evidently the
weakness of their cause.
"None call for aid but those who feel distressed."
In Religion, man is not permitted to err. In general, those who err are
pitied, and some kindness is shewn to persons who discover new truths;
but, when Religion is thought to be interested either in the errors or
the discoveries, a holy zeal is kindled, the populace become frantic, and
nations are in an uproar.
Can any thing be more afflicting, than to see public and private felicity
depending upon a futile system, which is destitute if principles, founded
only on a distempered imagination, and incapable of presenting any thing
but words void of sense? In what consists the so much boasted utility of
a Religion, which nobody can comprehend, which continually torments those
who are weak enough to meddle with it, which is incapable of rendering men
better, and which often makes them consider it meritorious to be unjust
and wicked? Is there a folly more deplorable, and more justly to be
combated, than that, which far from doing any service to the human race,
only makes them blind, delirious, and miserable, by depriving them of
Truth, the sole cure for their wretchedness.
206.
Religion has ever filled the mind of man with darkness, and kept him in
ignorance of his real duties and true interests. It is only by dispelling
the clouds and phantoms of Religion, that we shall discover Truth, Reason,
and Morality. Religion diverts us from the causes of evils, and from the
remedies which nature prescribes; far from curing, it only aggravates,
multiplies, and perpetuates them. Let us observe with the celebrated
Lord Bolingbroke, that "_theology is the box of Pandora; and if it is
impossible to shut it, it is at least useful to inform men, that this
fatal box is open_."
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's Good Sense, by Paul Henri Thiry, Baron D'Holbach