_Theological Notions cannot be the Basis of Morality.--Comparison
between Theological Ethics and Natural Morality.--Theology prejudicial
to the human Mind._
Felicity is the great end of human existence; a supposition therefore,
to be actually useful to man, should render him happy. By what parity
of reasoning can he flatter himself that an hypothesis, which does not
facilitate his happiness in his present duration, may one day conduct
him to permanent bliss? If mortals only sigh, tremble, and groan in this
world, of which they have a knowledge, upon what foundation is it they
expect a more felicitous existence hereafter, in a world of which they
know nothing? If man is every where the child of calamity, the victim to
necessary evil, the unhappy sufferer under an immutable system, ought he
reasonably to indulge a greater confidence in future happiness?
On the other hand, a supposition which should throw light on every
thing, which should supply an easy solution to all the questions to
which it could be applied, when even it should not be competent to
demonstrate the certitude, would probably be true: but that system which
should only obscure the clearest notions, render more insoluble the
problems desired to be resolved by its means, would most assuredly
be looked upon as fallacious; as either useless or dangerous. To be
convinced of this principle, let us examine, without prejudice, if the
theological ideas of the Divinity have ever given the solution to any
one difficulty. Has the human understanding progressed a single step
by the assistance of this metaphysical science? Has it not, on the
contrary, had a tendency to obscure the wore certain science of morals?
Has it not, in many instances, rendered the most essential duties of
our nature problematical? Has it not in a great measure confounded the
notions of virtue and vice, of justice and injustice? Indeed, what
is virtue, in the eyes of the generality of theologians? They will
instantly reply, "that which is conformable to the will of the
incomprehensible beings who govern nature." But way it not be asked,
without offence to the individual opinions of any one, what are these
beings, of whom they are unceasingly talking, without having the
capacity to comprehend them? How can we acquire a knowledge of their
will? They will forthwith reply, with a confidence that is meant to
strike conviction on uninformed minds, by recounting what they are not,
without even attempting to inform us what they are. If they do undertake
to furnish an idea of them, they will heap upon their hypothetical
beings a multitude, of contradictory, incompatible attributes, with
which they will form a whole, at once impossible for the human mind to
conceive or else they will refer to oracles, by which they insist their
intentions have been promulgated to mankind. If, however, they are
requested to prove the authenticity of these oracles, which are at such
variance with each other, they will refer to miracles in support of what
they assert: these miracles, independent of the difficulty there must
exist to repose in them our faith, when, as we have seen, they are
admitted even by the theologians themselves, to be contrary to the
intelligence, the immutability, to the omnipotency of their immaterial
substances, are, moreover, warmly disputed by each particular sect,
as being impositions, practised by the others for their own individual
advantage. As a last resource, then, it will be necessary to accredit
the integrity, to rely on the veracity, to rest on the good faith of
the priests, who announce these oracles. On this again, there arises two
almost insuperable difficulties, in the _first_ place, who shall assure
us of their actual mission? are we quite certain none of them may be
mistaken? how shall we be justified in giving credence to their powers?
are they not these priests themselves, who announce to us that they are
the infallible interpreters of a being whom they acknowledge they do
not at all know? In the _second_ place, which set of these oracular
developements are we to adopt? For to give currency to the whole, would,
in point of fact, annihilate them entirely; seeing, that no two of them
run in unison with each other. This granted, the priests, that is to
say, men extremely suspicious, but little in harmony with each other,
will be the arbiters of morality; they will decide (according to their
own uncertain knowledge, after their various passions, in conformity to
the different perspectives under which they view these things,) on the
whole system of ethics; upon which absolutely rests the repose of
the world--the sterling happiness of each individual. Would this be
a desirable state? would it be that from which humanity has the best
founded prospect of that felicity, which is the desired object of his
research? Again; do we not see that either enthusiasm or interest is the
only standard of their decisions? that their morals are as variable as
their caprice? those who listen to them, very rarely discover to what
line they will adhere. In their various writings, we have evidence of
the most bitter animosities; we find continual contradictions; endless
disputes upon what they themselves acknowledge to be the most essential
points; upon those premises, in the substantive proof of which their
whole system depends; the very beings they depict as their source of
their various creeds, are pourtrayed as variable as themselves; as
frequently changing their plans as these are their arguments. What
results from all this to a rational man? It will be natural for him to
conclude, that neither inconstant gods, nor vacillating priests, whose
opinions are more fluctuating than the seasons, can be the proper
models of a moral system, which should be as regular, as determinate,
as invariable as the laws of nature herself; as that eternal march, from
which we never see her derogate.
No! Arbitrary, inconclusive, contradictory notions, abstract,
unintelligible speculations, can never be the sterling bases of the
ethical science! They must be evident, demonstrable principles, deduced
from the nature of man, founded upon his wants, inspired by rational
education, rendered familiar by habit, made sacred by wholesome laws,
that will flash conviction on our mind, render systems useful to
mankind, make virtue dear to us--that will people nations with honest
men--fill up the ranks with faithful subjects--crowd them with
intrepid citizens. Incomprehensible beings can present nothing to our
imagination, save vague ideas, which will never embrace any common point
of union amongst those who shall contemplate them. If these beings are
painted as terrible, the mind is led astray; if changeable, it always
precludes us from ascertaining the road we ought to pursue. The menaces
held forth by those, who, in despite of their own assertions, say they
are acquainted with the views, with the determination of these beings,
will seldom do more than render virtue unpleasant; fear alone will
then make us practise with reluctance, that which reason, which our
own immediate interest, ought to make us execute with pleasure. The
inculcation of terrible ideas will only serve to disturb honest persons,
without in the least arresting the progress of the profligate, or
diverting the course of the flagitious: the greater number of men,
when they shall be disposed to sin, to deliver themselves up to vicious
propensities, will cease to contemplate these terrific ideas, will only
behold a merciful God, who is filled with goodness, who will pardon the
transgressions of their weakness. Man never views things but on that
side which is most conformable to his desires.
The goodness of God cheers the wicked; his rigour disturbs the honest
man. Thus, the qualities with which theology clothes its immaterial
substances, themselves turn out disadvantageous to sound morality. It
is upon this infinite goodness that the most corrupt men will have the
audacity to reckon, when they are either hurried along by crime, or
given up to habitual vice. If, then, they are reminded of their criminal
courses, they reply, "God is good, his mercy is infinite, his clemency
boundless:" thus it may be said that religion itself is pressed into the
service of vice, by the children of turpitude. Superstition, above all,
rather abets crime than represses it, by holding forth to mortals that
by the assistance of certain ceremonies, the performance of certain
rites, the repetition of certain prayers, aided by the payment of
certain sums of money, they can appease the anger of their gods, assuage
the wrath of heaven, wash out the stains of their sins, and be received
with open arms into the happy number of the elect--be placed in
the blissful abodes of eternity. In short, do not the priests of
superstition universally affirm, that they possess infallible secrets,
for reconciling the most perverse to the pale of their respective
systems?
It must be concluded from this, that however these systems are viewed,
in whatever manner they are considered, they cannot serve for the basis
of morality, which in its very nature is formed to be invariably the
same. Irascible systems are only useful to those who find an interest in
terrifying the ignorance of mankind, that they may advantage themselves
of his fears--profit by his expiations. The nobles of the earth, who are
frequently men not gifted with the most exemplary morals--who do not
on all occasions exhibit the most perfect specimens of self-denial--who
would not, perhaps, be at all times held up as mirrors of virtue, will
not see these formidable systems, when they shall be inclined to listen
to their passions; to lend themselves to the indulgence of their unruly
desires: they will, however, feel no repugnance to make use of them
to frighten others, to the end that they may preserve unimpaired their
superiority; that they may keep entire their prerogatives; that they may
more effectually bind them to servitude. Like the rest of mankind, they
will see their God under the traits of his benevolence; they will always
believe him indulgent to those outrages they may commit against their
fellows, provided they shew due respect for him themselves: superstition
will furnish them with easy means to turn aside his Wrath; its ministers
seldom omit a profitable opportunity, to expiate the crimes of human
nature.
Morality is not made to follow the caprices of the imagination, the fury
of the passions, the fluctuating interests of men: it ought to possess
stability; to be at all times the same, for all the individuals of the
human race; it ought neither to vary in one country, nor in one race
from another: neither superstition nor religion, has a privilege to make
its immutability subservient to the changeable laws of their systems.
There is but one method to give ethics this solidity; it has been more
than once pointed out in the course of this work: it is only to be
founded upon the nature of man, bottomed upon his duties, rested upon
the relations subsisting between intelligent beings, who are in love,
with their happiness, who are occupied with their own preservation, who
live together in society that they may With greater facility ascertain
these ends. In short we must take for the basis of morality the
necessity of things.
In weighing these principles, which are self evident, confirmed by
constant experience, approved by reason, drawn from nature herself, we
shall have an undeviating tone of conduct; a sure system of morality,
that will never be in contradiction with itself. Man will have no
occasion to recur to theological speculations to regulate his conduct
in the visible world. We shall then be capacitated to reply to those who
pretend that without them there can be no morality. If we reflect upon
the long tissue of errors, upon the immense chain of wanderings, that
flow from the obscure notions these various systems hold forth--of the
sinister ideas which superstition in all countries inculcates; it would
be much more conformable to truth to say, that all sound ethics, all
morality, either useful to individuals or beneficial to society, is
totally incompatible with systems which never represent their gods
but under the form of absolute monarchs, whose good qualities are
continually eclipsed by dangerous caprices. Consequently, we shall
be obliged to acknowledge, that to establish morality upon a steady
foundation, we must necessarily commence by at least quitting those
chimerical systems upon which the ruinous edifice of supernatural
morality has hitherto been constructed, which during such a number
of ages, has been so uselessly preached up to a great portion of the
inhabitants of the earth.
Whatever may have been the cause that placed man in his present abode,
that gave him the faculties he possesses; whether the human species be
considered as the work of nature, or whether it be supposed that he owes
his existence to an intelligent being, distinguished from nature; the
existence of man, such as he is, is a fact; we behold in him a being who
thinks, who feels, who has intelligence, who loves himself, who tends
to his own conservation, who in every moment of his duration strives
to render his existence agreeable; who, the more easily to satisfy
his wants and to procure himself pleasure, congregates in society with
beings similar to himself; of whom his conduct can either conciliate
the favour, or draw upon him the disaffection. It is, then, upon these
general sentiments, inherent in his nature, which will subsist as long
as his race shall endure, that we ought to found morality; which is only
a science embracing, the duties of men living together in society.
These duties have their spring in our nature, they are founded upon our
necessities, because we cannot reach the goal of happiness, if we do not
employ the requisite means: these means constitute the moral science. To
be permanently felicitous, we must so comport ourselves as to merit the
affection, so act as to secure the assistance of those, beings with whom
we are associated; these will only accord us their love, lend us their
esteem, aid us in our projects, labour to our peculiar happiness, but in
proportion as our own exertions shall be employed for their advantage.
It is this necessity, flowing naturally out of the relations of mankind,
that is called MORAL OBLIGATION. It is founded upon reflection, rested
upon those motives competent to determine sensible, intelligent beings,
to pursue that line of conduct, which in best calculated to achieve that
happiness towards which they are continually verging. These motives
in the human species, never can be other than the desire, always
regenerating, of procuring good and avoiding evil. Pleasure and pain,
the hope of happiness, or the fear of misery, are the only motives
suitable to have an efficacious influence on the volition of sensible
beings. To impel them towards this end, it is sufficient these motives
exist and be understood to have a knowledge of them, it is only
requisite to consider our own constitution: according to this, we shall
find we can only love those actions, approve that conduct, from whence
result actual and reciprocal utility; this constitutes VIRTUE. In
consequence, to conserve ourselves, to make our own happiness, to enjoy
security, we are compelled to follow the routine which conducts to
this end; to interest others in our own preservation, we are obliged
to display an interest in theirs; we must do nothing that can have a
tendency to interrupt that mutual co-operation which alone can lead
to the felicity desired. Such is the true establishment of moral
obligation.
Whenever it is attempted to give any other basis to morality than the
nature of man, we shall always deceive ourselves; none other can have
the least stability; none can be more solid. Some authors, even of great
integrity, have thought, that to give ethics more respectability in the
eyes of man, to render more inviolable those duties which his nature
imposes on him, it was needful to clothe them with the authority of a
being whom they have made superior to nature--whom they have rendered
more powerful than necessity. Theology, seizing on these ideas, with its
own general want of just inference, has in consequence invaded morality;
has endeavoured to connect it with its various systems. By some it has
been imagined, this union would render virtue more sacred; that the fear
attached to invisible powers, who govern nature, would lend more weight,
would give more efficacy to its laws; in short, it has been believed
that man, persuaded, of the necessity of the moral system, seeing it
united with superstition, would contemplate superstition itself as
necessary to his happiness. Indeed it is the supposition that these
systems are essential to morality, that sustains the theological
ideas--that gives permanency to the greater part of all the creeds on
earth; it is erroneously imagined that without them man would neither
understand nor practise the duties he owes to others. This prejudice
once established, gives currency to the opinion that the vague ideas
growing out of these systems are in such a manner connected with
morality, are so linked with the actual welfare of society, that they
cannot be attacked without overturning the social duties that bind man
to his fellow. It is thought that the reciprocity of wants, the desire
of happiness, the evident interests of the community, would be mere
skeleton motives, devoid of all active energy, if they did not borrow
their substance from these various systems; if they were not invested
with the force derived from these numerous creeds; if they were not
clothed with the sanction of those ideas which have been made the
arbiters of all things.
Nothing, however, is more borne out by the evidence of experience,
nothing has more thoroughly impressed itself on the minds of reflecting
men, than the danger always arising from connecting truth with fiction;
the known with the unknown; the delirium of enthusiasm, with the
tranquillity of reason. Indeed what has resulted from the confused
alliance, from the marvellous speculations, which theology has made with
the most substantive realities? of mixing up its evanescent conjectures
with the confirmed aphorisms of time? The imagination bewildered, has
mistaken truth: superstition, by aid of its gratuitous suppositions, has
commanded nature--made reason bow, under its bulky yoke,--submitted man
to its own peculiar caprices; very frequently in the name of its gods
obliged him to stifle his nature, to piously violate the most sacred
duties of morality. When these superstitions have been desirous of
restraining mortals whom they had previously hood-winked, whom they had
rendered irrational, it gave them only ideal curbs, imaginary motives;
it substituted unsubstantial causes, for those which were substantive;
marvellous supernatural powers, for those which were natural, and
well understood; it supplied actual realities, by ideal romances and
visionary fables. By this inversion of principle, morality had no
longer any fixed basis: nature, reason, virtue, demonstration, were laid
prostrate before the most undefinable systems; were made to depend
upon oracular promulgations, which never spake distinctly; indeed, they
generally silenced reason, were often delivered by fanatics, which time
proved to be impostors; by those who, always adopting the appellation
of inspired beings, gave forth nothing but the wanderings of their own
delirium, or else were desirous of profiting by the errors which
they themselves instilled into mankind. Thus these men became
deeply interested in preaching abject submission, non-resistance,
passive-obedience, factitious virtues, frivolous ceremonies; in short,
an arbitrary morality, conformable to their own reigning passions;
frequently prejudicial to the rest of the human race.
It was thus, in making ethics flow from these various systems, they in
point of fact submitted it to the dominant passions of men, who had a
direct interest in moulding it to their own advantage. In being disposed
to found it upon undemonstrated theories, they founded it upon nothing;
in deriving it from imaginary sources, of which each individual forms to
himself his own notion, generally adverse to that of his neighbour;
in resting it upon obscure oracles, always delivered ambiguously,
frequently interpreted by men in the height of delirium, sometimes
by knaves, who had immediate interests to promote, they rendered it
unsteady--devoid of fixed principle,--too frequently left it to the
mercy of the most crafty of mankind. In proposing to man the changeable
creeds of the theologians for a model, they weakened the moral system
of human actions; frequently annihilated that which was furnished by
nature; often substituted in its place nothing but the most perplexing
incertitude; the most ruinous inconsistency. These systems, by the
qualities which are ascribed, to them, become inexplicable enigmas,
which each expounds as best suits himself; which each explains after his
own peculiar mode of thinking; in which the theologian ever finds that
which most harmonizes with his designs; which he can bend to his own
sinister purposes; which he offers as irrefragible evidence of the
rectitude of those actions, which at bottom have nothing but his own
advantage in view. If they exhort the gentle, indulgent, equitable man,
to be good, compassionate, benevolent; they equally excite the furious,
who is destitute of these qualities, to be intolerant, inhuman,
pitiless. The morality of these systems varies in each individual;
differs in one country from another; in fact, those actions which
some men look upon as sacred, which they have learned to consider
meritorious, make others shudder with horror--fill them with the most
painful recollections. Some see the Divinity filled with gentleness and
mercy; others behold him as full of wrath and fury, whose anger is to be
assuaged by the commission of the most shocking cruelties.
The morality of nature is clear, it is evident even to those who outrage
it. It is not thus with superstitious morality; this is as obscure
as the systems which prescribe it; or rather as fluctuating as the
passions, as changeable as the temperaments, of those who expound them;
if it was left to the theologians, ethics ought to be considered as the
science of all others the most problematical, the most unsteady, the
most difficult to bring to a point; it would require the most profound,
penetrating genius, the most active, vigorous mind, to discover the
principles of those duties man owes to himself, that he ought to
exercise towards others; this would render the sources of the moral
system attainable by a very small number of individuals; would
effectually lock them up in the cabinets of the metaphysicians; place
them under the treacherous guardianship of priests: to derive it from
those systems, which are in themselves undefinable, with the foundations
of which no one is actually acquainted, which each contemplates after
his own mode, modifies after his own peculiar ideas, is at once to
submit it to the caprice of every individual; it is completely to
acknowledge, we know not from whence it is derived, nor whence it has
its principles. Whatever may be the agent upon whom they make nature, or
the beings she contains, to depend; with whatever power they way suppose
him invested, it is very certain that man either does, or does not
exist; but as soon as his existence is acknowledged, as soon as it is
admitted to be what it actually is, when he shall be allowed to be a
sensible being living in society, in love with his own felicity, they
cannot without either annihilating him, or new modelling him, cause
him to exist otherwise than he does. Therefore, according to his actual
essence, agreeable to his absolute qualities, conformable to those
modifications which constitute him a being, of the human species,
morality becomes necessary to him, and the desire of conserving himself
will make him prefer virtue to vice, by the same necessity that
he prefers pleasure to pain. If, following up the doctrine of the
theologians, "that man hath occasion for supernatural grace to enable
him to do good," it must be very injurious to sound principles of
morality; because he will always wait for "the call from above," to
exercise that virtue, which is indispensable to his welfare. Tertullian,
nevertheless says expressly, "wherefore will ye trouble yourselves,
seeking after the law of God, whilst ye have that which is common to all
the world, and which is written on the tablets of nature?"
To say, that man cannot possess any moral sentiments without embracing
the discordant systems offered to his acceptance, is, in point of fact,
saying, that he cannot distinguish virtue from vice; it is to pretend
that without these systems, man would not feel the necessity of eating
to live, would not make the least distinction, would be absolutely
without choice in his food: it is to pretend, that unless he is fully
acquainted with the name, character, and qualities of the individual
who prepares a mess for him, he is not competent to discriminate whether
this mess be agreeable or disagreeable, good or bad. He who does not
feel himself satisfied what opinions to adopt, upon the foundation and
moral attributes of these systems, or who even formally denies them,
cannot at least doubt his own existence-his own functions--his own
qualities--his own mode of feeling--his own method of judging; neither
can he doubt the existence of other organized beings similar to himself;
in whom every thing discovers to him qualities analogous with his own;
of whom he can, by certain actions, either gain the love or incur the
hatred--secure the assistance or attract the ill-will--merit the esteem
or elicit the contempt; this knowledge is sufficient to enable him
to distinguish moral good and evil. In short, every man enjoying
a well-ordered organization, possessing the faculty of making true
experience, will only need to contemplate himself in order to discover
what he owes to others: his own nature will enlighten him much more
effectually upon his duties, than those systems in which he will consult
either his own unruly passions, those of some enthusiast, or those of
an impostor. He will allow, that to conserve himself, to secure his own
permanent welfare, he is frequently obliged to resist the blind impulse
of his own desires; that to conciliate the benevolence of others, he
must act in a mode conformable to their advantage; in reasoning thus,
he will find out what virtue actually is; if he puts his theory into
practice, he will be virtuous; he will be rewarded for his conduct by
the harmony of his own machine; by the legitimate esteem of himself,
confirmed by the good opinion of others, whose kindness he will have
secured: if he acts in a contrary mode, the trouble that will ensue, the
disorder of his frame, will quickly warn him that nature, thwarted by
his actions, disapproves his conduct, which is injurious to himself;
to which he will be obliged to add the condemnation of others, who will
hate him. If the wanderings of his mind prevent him from seeing the more
immediate consequences of his irregularities, neither will he perceive
the distant rewards, the remote punishments, which these systems
hold forth; because they will never speak to him so distinctly as his
conscience, which will either reward or punish him on the spot. Theology
has never yet known how to give a true definition of virtue: according
to it, it is an effort of grace, that disposes man to do that which is
agreeable to the Divinity. But what is this grace? How doth it act
upon man? How shall we know what is agreeable to a Divinity who is
incomprehensible to all men?
Every thing that has been advanced evidently proves, that superstitious
morality is an infinite loser when compared with the morality of nature,
with which, indeed, it is found in perpetual contradiction. Nature
invites man to love himself, to preserve his existence, to incessantly
augment the sum of his happiness: superstition teaches him to be in love
only with formidable doctrines, calculated to generate his dislike;
to detest himself; to sacrifice to his idols his most pleasing
sensations--the most legitimate pleasures of his heart. Nature counsels
man to consult reason, to adopt it for his guide; superstition
pourtrays this reason as corrupted, as a treacherous director, that
will infallibly lead him astray. Nature warns him to enlighten his
understanding, to search after truth, to inform himself of his duties;
superstition enjoins him not to examine any thing, to remain in
ignorance, to fear truth; it persuades him there are no relations so
important to his interest, as those which subsist between himself and
systems which he can never understand. Nature tells the being who is
in love with his welfare, to moderate his passions, to resist them when
they are found destructive to himself, to counteract them by substantive
motives collected from experience; superstition desires a sensible being
to have no passions, to be an insensible mass, or else to combat his
propensities by motives borrowed from the imagination, which are as
variable as itself. Nature exhorts man to be sociable, to love his
fellow creatures, to be just, peaceable, indulgent, benevolent, to
permit his associates to freely enjoy their opinions; superstition
admonishes him to fly society, to detach himself from his fellow
mortals, to hate them when their imagination does not procure them
dreams conformable to his own; to break through the most sacred bonds,
to maintain his own opinions, or to frustrate those of his neighbour; to
torment, to persecute, to massacre, those who will not be mad after his
own peculiar manner. Nature exacts that man in society should cherish
glory, labour to render himself estimable, endeavour to establish an
imperishable name, to be active, courageous, industrious; superstition
tells him to be abject, pusillanimous, to live in obscurity, to occupy
himself with ceremonies; it says to him, be useless to thyself, and do
nothing for others. Nature proposes to the citizen, for his model, men
endued with honest, noble, energetic souls, who have usefully served
their fellow citizens; superstition recommends to his imitation mean,
cringing sycophants; extols pious enthusiasts, frantic penitents,
zealous fanatics, who for the most ridiculous opinions have disturbed
the tranquility of empires. Nature urges the husband to be tender, to
attach himself to the company of his mate, to cherish her in his bosom;
superstition makes a crime of his susceptibility, frequently obliges
him to look upon the conjugal bonds as a state of pollution, as the
offspring of imperfection. Nature calls to the father to nurture his
children, to cherish their affection, to make them useful members of
society; superstition advises him to rear them in fear of its systems,
to hoodwink them, to make them superstitious, which renders them
incapable of actually serving society, but extremely well calculated to
disturb its repose. Nature cries out to children to honor their parents,
to listen to their admonitions, to be the support of their old age;
superstition says, prefer the oracles; in support of the systems of
which you are an admitted member, trample father and mother under your
feet. Nature holds out to the philosopher that he should occupy
himself with useful objects, consecrate his cares to his country, make
advantageous discoveries, suitable to perfect the condition of mankind;
superstition saith, occupy thyself with useless reveries; employ thy
time in endless dispute; scatter about with a lavish hand the seeds of
discord, calculated to induce the carnage of thy fellows; obstinately
maintain opinions which thou thyself canst never understand. Nature
points out to the perverse man, that he should blush for his vices, that
he should feel sorrow for his disgraceful propensities, that he should
be ashamed of crime; it shews him, that his most secret irregularities
will necessarily have an influence over his own felicity; superstition
crieth to the most corrupt men, to the most flagitious mortals, "do not
irritate the gods, whom thou knowest not; but if, peradventure, against
their express command, thou dost deliver thyself up to crime, remember
that their mercy is infinite, that their compassion endureth for ever,
that therefore they may be easily appeased; thou hast nothing more to
do than to go into their temples, prostrate thyself before their
altars, humiliate thyself at the feet of their ministers; expiate thy
transgressions by largesses, by sacrifices, by offerings, by ceremonies,
and by prayer; these things done with a willing spirit, and a contrite
heart, will pacify thine own conscience, and cleanse thee in the eyes of
heaven."
The rights of the citizen, or the man in society, are not less injured
by superstition, which is always in contradiction with sound politics.
Nature says distinctly to man, "thou art free; no power on earth can
justly deprive thee of thy rights, without thine own consent; and even
then, thou canst not legitimately make thyself a slave to thy like."
Superstition tells him he is a slave, condemned to groan all his life
under the iron rod of the representatives of its system. Nature commands
man to love the country which gave him birth, to serve it faithfully,
to blend his interests with it, to unite against all those who shall
attempt to injure it; superstition generally orders him to obey without
murmur the tyrants who oppress it, to serve them against its best
interests, to merit their favors by contributing to enslave their fellow
citizens to their ungovernable caprices: notwithstanding these general
orders, if the sovereign be not sufficiently devoted to the priest,
superstition quickly changes its language, it then calls upon subjects
to become rebels; it makes it a duty in them to resist their masters;
it cries out to them, "it is better to obey the gods than men." Nature
acquaints princes that they are men: that it is not by their capricious
whims that they can decide what is just; that it is not their wayward
humours that can mark what is unjust; that the public will maketh the
law. Superstition often insinuates to them that they are gods, to whom
nothing in this world ought to offer resistance; sometimes, indeed, it
transforms them into tyrants, whom enraged heaven is desirous should be
immolated to its wrath.
Superstition corrupts princes; these corrupt the law, which, like
themselves, becomes unjust; from thence institutions are perverted;
education only forms men who are worthless, blinded with prejudice,
smitten with vain objects, enamoured of wealth, devoted to pleasures,
which they must obtain by iniquitous means: thus nature, mistaken, is
disdained; virtue is only a shadow quickly sacrificed to the slightest
interest, while superstition, far from remedying these evils to which
it has given birth, does nothing more than render them still more
inveterate; or else engenders sterile regrets which it presently
effaces: thus, by its operation, man is obliged to yield to the force of
habit, to the general example, to the stream of those propensities, to
those causes of confusion, which conspire to hurry all his species, who
are not willing to renounce their own welfare, on to the commission of
crime.
Here is the mode by which superstition, united with politics, exert
their efforts to pervert, abuse, and poison the heart of man; the
generality of human institutions appear to have only for their object to
abase the human character, to render it more flagitiously wicked. Do
not then let us be at all astonished if morality is almost every where
a barren speculation, from which every one is obliged to deviate in
practice, if he will not risk the rendering himself unhappy. Men can
only have sound morals, when, renouncing his prejudices, he consults
his nature; but the continued impulse which his soul is every moment
receiving, on the part of more powerful motives, quickly compels him
to forget those ethical rules which nature points out to him. He is
continually floating between vice and virtue; we behold him unceasingly
in contradiction with himself; if, sometimes, he justly appreciates the
value of an honest, upright conduct, experience very soon shews him,
that this cannot lead him to any thing, which he has been taught to
desire, on the contrary, that it may be an invincible obstacle to the
happiness which his heart never ceases for an instant to search after.
In corrupt societies it is necessary to become corrupt, in order to
become happy.
Citizens, led astray at the same time both by their spiritual and
temporal guides, neither knew reason nor virtue. The slaves both of
their superstitious systems, and of men like themselves, they had all
the vices attached to slavery; kept in a perpetual state of infancy,
they had neither knowledge nor principles; those who preached virtue to
them, knew nothing of it themselves, and could not undeceive them
with respect to those baubles in which they had learned to make their
happiness consist. In vain they cried out to them to stifle those
passions which every thing conspired to unloose: in vain they made the
thunder of the gods roll to intimidate men whose tumultuous passions
rendered them deaf. It was soon discovered that the gods of the heavens
were much less feared than those of the earth; that the favour of the
latter procured a much more substantive welfare than the promises of
the former; that the riches of this world were more tangible than the
treasures reserved for favorites in the next; that it was much more
advantageous for men to conform themselves to the views of visible
powers than to those of powers who were not within the compass of their
visual faculties.
Thus society, corrupted by its priests, guided by their caprice, could
only bring forth a corrupt offspring. It gave birth to avaricious,
ambitious, jealous, dissolute citizens, who never saw any thing happy
but crime; who beheld meanness rewarded; incapacity honoured; wealth
adored; debauchery held in esteem; who almost every where found talents
discouraged; virtue neglected; truth proscribed; elevation of soul
crushed; justice trodden under foot; moderation languishing in misery;
liberality of mind obligated to groan under the ponderous bulk of
haughty injustice.
In the midst of this disorder, in this confusion of ideas, the precepts
of morality could only be vague declamations, incapable of convincing
any one. What barrier could superstition, with its imaginary motives,
oppose to the general corruption? When it spake reason, it could not be
heard; its gods themselves were not sufficiently powerful to resist the
torrent; its menaces failed of effect, on those hearts which every thing
hurried along to crime; its distant promises could not counterbalance
present advantages; its expiations, always ready to cleanse mortals from
their sins, emboldened them to persevere in their criminal pursuits; its
frivolous ceremonies calmed their consciences; its zeal, its disputes,
its caprices, only multiplied the evils, with which society found itself
afflicted; only gave them an inveteracy that rendered them more
widely mischievous; in short, in the most vitiated nations there was
a multitude of devotees, and but very few honest men. Great and small
listened to the doctrines of superstition, when they appeared favorable
to their dominant passions; when they were desirous to counteract
them, they listened no longer. Whenever superstition was conformable to
morality, it appeared incommodious, it was only followed when it
either combatted ethics or destroyed them. The despot himself found
it marvellous, when it assured him he was a god upon earth; that his
subjects were born to adore him alone, to administer to his phantasms.
He neglected it when it told him to be just; from thence he saw it was
in contradiction with itself, that it was useless to preach equity to
a deified mortal; besides, he was assured the gods would pardon every
thing, as soon as he should consent to recur to his priests, always
ready to reconcile them; the most wicked of their subjects reckoned in
the same manner upon their divine assistance: thus superstition, far
from restraining vice, assured its impunity; its menaces could not
destroy the effects which its unworthy flattery had produced in princes;
these same menaces could not annihilate the hope which its expiations
had furnished to all. Sovereigns, either inflated with pride, or always
confident of washing out their crimes by timely sacrifices, no longer
actually feared their gods; become gods themselves, they believed they
were permitted any thing against poor pitiful mortals, whom they no
longer considered under any other light than as playthings destined for
their earthly amusement.
If the nature of man was consulted in his politics which supernatural
ideas have so woefully depraved, it would completely rectify those false
notions that are entertained equally by sovereigns and by subjects;
it would contribute more amply than all the superstitions existing,
to render society happy, powerful, and flourishing under rational
authority. Nature would teach man, it is for the purpose of enjoying
a greater portion of happiness, that mortals live together in society;
that it is its own preservation, its own immediate felicity, that
society should have for its determinate, unchangeable object: that
without equity, a nation only resembles a congregation of enemies; that
his most cruel foe, is the man who deceives him in order that he may
enslave him; that the scourges most to be feared, are those priests who
corrupt his chiefs, who, in the name of the gods assure them of
impunity for their crimes: she would prove to him that association is a
misfortune under unjust, negligent, destructive governments.
This nature, interrogated by princes, would teach them they are men and
not gods; that their power is only derived from the consent of other
men; that they themselves are citizens, charged by other citizens, with
the care of watching over the safety of the whole; that the law ought
to be only the expression of the public will; that it is never permitted
them to counteract nature, or to thwart the invariable end of society.
This nature would make monarchs feel, that to be truly great, to be
decidedly powerful, they ought to command elevated, virtuous souls; not
minds degraded by despotism, vitiated by superstition. This nature would
teach sovereigns, that in order to be cherished by their subjects, they
ought to afford them succour; to cause them to enjoy those benefits
which their wants render imperative, that they should at all times
maintain them, inviolably, in the possession of their rights, of which
they are the appointed defenders--of which they are the constituted
guardians. This nature would prove to all those princes who should deign
to consult her, that it is only by good actions, by kindness, they can
either merit the love, or secure the attachment of the people; that
oppression does nothing more than raise up enemies against them; that
violence only makes their power unsteady; that force, however
brutally used, cannot confer on them any legitimate right; that beings
essentially in love with happiness, must sooner or later finish by
revolting against an authority that establishes itself by injustice;
that only makes itself felt by the outrage it commits: this is the
manner in which nature, the sovereign of all beings, in whose system all
are equal, would speak to one of these superb monarchs, whom flattery
has deified:--"Untoward, headstrong child! Pigmy, so proud of commanding
pigmies! Have they then assured thee that thou art a god? Have they
flattered thee that thou art something supernatural? Know there is
nothing superior to myself. Contemplate thine own insignificance,
acknowledge thine impotence against the slightest of my blows. I can
break thy sceptre; I can take away thine existence; I can level thy
throne with the dust; I can scatter thy people; I can destroy even the
earth which thou inhabitest; and yet thou hast the folly to believe thou
art a god. Be then, again, thyself; honestly avow that thou art a man,
formed to submit to my laws equally with the meanest of thy subjects.
Learn then, and never let it escape thy memory, that thou art the man of
thy people; the minister of thy nation; the interpreter of its laws;
the executer of its will; the fellow-citizen of those whom thou hast the
right of commanding, only because they consent to obey thee, in view of
that well being which thou promisest to procure for them. Reign, then,
on these conditions; fulfil thy sacred engagements. Be benevolent: above
all, equitable. If thou art willing to have thy power assured to thee,
never abuse it; let it be circumscribed by the immovable limits of
eternal justice. Be the father of thy people, and they will cherish thee
as thy children. But, if unmindful of thy duties, thou neglectest them;
if negligent of thine own interest, thou separatest them from those of
thy great family, if thou refusest to thy subjects that happiness which
thou owest them; if, heedless of thy own security, thou armest thyself
against them; thou shall be like all tyrants, the slave to gloomy care,
the bondman of alarm, the vassal of cruel suspicion: thou wilt become
the victim to thine own folly. Thy people, reduced to despair, shorn of
their felicity, will no longer acknowledge thy divine rights. In vain,
then, thou wouldst sue for aid to that superstition which hath deified
thee; it can avail nothing with thy people, whom sharp misery had
rendered deaf; heaven will abandon thee to the fury of those enemies
to which thy frenzy shall have given birth. Superstitious systems can
effect nothing against my irrevocable decrees, which will that man shall
ever irritate himself against the cause of his sorrows."
In short, every thing would make known to rational princes, that they
have no occasion for superstition to be faithfully obeyed on earth; that
all the powers contained in these systems will not sustain them when
they shall act the tyrant; that their true friends are those who
undeceive the people in their delusions; that their real enemies are
those who intoxicate them with flattery--who harden them in crime--who
make the road to heaven too easy for them--who feed them with fanciful,
chimerical doctrines, calculated to make them swerve from those cares,
to divert them from those sentiments, which they justly owe to their
nations.
It is then, I repeat it, only by re-conducting man to nature, that we
can procure him distinct notions, evident opinions, certain knowledge;
it is only by shewing him his true relations with his fellows, that
we can place him on the road to happiness. The human mind, blinded
by theology, has scarcely advanced a single step. Man's superstitious
systems have rendered him sceptical on the most demonstrable truths.
Superstition, while it pervaded every thing, while it had an universal
influence, served to corrupt the whole: philosophy, dragged in its
train, although it swelled its triumphant procession, was no longer any
thing but an imaginary science: it quitted the real world to plunge into
the sinuosities of the ideal, inconceivable labyrinths of metaphysics;
it neglected nature, who spontaneously opened her book to its
examination, to occupy itself with systems filled with spirits, with
invisible powers, which only served to render all questions more
obscure; which, the more they were probed, the more inexplicable
they became; which took delight in promulgating that which no one was
competent to understand. In all difficulties it introduced the Divinity;
from thence things only became more and more perplexed, until nothing
could be explained. Theological notions appear only to have been
invented to put man's reason to flight; to confound his judgment; to
deceive his mind; to overturn his clearest ideas in every science. In
the hands of the theologian, logic, or the art of reasoning, was nothing
more than an unintelligible jargon, calculated to support sophism,
to countenance falsehood, to attempt to prove the most palpable
contradictions. Morality, as we have seen, became wavering and
uncertain, because it was founded on ideal systems, never in harmony
with themselves, which, on the contrary, were continually contradicting
their own most positive assertions. Politics, as we have elsewhere said,
were cruelly perverted by the fallacious ideas given to sovereigns of
their actual rights. Jurisprudence was determinately submitted to the
caprices of superstition, which shackled labour, chained down human
industry, controuled activity, and fettered the commerce of nations.
Every thing, in short, was sacrificed to the immediate interests of
these theologians: in the place of every rational science, they taught
nothing but an obscure, quarrelsome metaphysics, which but too often
caused the blood of those unhappy people to flow copiously who were
incapable of understanding its hallucinations.
Born an enemy to experience, theology, that supernatural science, was
an invincible obstacle to the progress of the natural sciences, as
it almost always threw itself in their way. It was not permitted to
experimental philosophy, to natural history, to anatomy, to see any
thing but through the jaundiced eye of superstition. The most evident
facts were rejected with disdain, proscribed with horror, when ever they
could not be made to quadrate with the idle hypotheses of superstition.
Virgil, the Bishop of Saltzburg, was condemned by the church, for having
dared to maintain the existence of the antipodes; Gallileo suffered the
most cruel persecutions, for asserting that the sun did not make its
revolution round the earth. Descartes was obliged to die in a foreign
land. Priests, indeed, have a right to be the enemies to the sciences;
the progress of reason must, sooner or later, annihilate superstitious
ideas. Nothing that is founded upon nature, that is bottomed upon truth,
can ever be lost; while the systems of imaginations, the creeds of
imposture, must be overturned. Theology unceasingly opposed itself to
the happiness of nations--to the progress of the human mind--to useful
researches--to the freedom of thought; it kept man in ignorance; all
his steps being guided by it, he was no more than a tissue of errors.
Indeed, is it resolving a question in natural philosophy, to say that
an effect which excites our surprise, that an unusual phenomenon, that a
volcano, a deluge, a hurricane, a comet, &c. are either signs of divine
wrath, or works contrary to the laws of nature? In persuading nations,
as it has done, that the calamities, whether physical or moral, which
they experience, are the effects of the divine anger, or chastisements
which his power inflicts on them, has it not, in fact, prevented them
from seeking after remedies for these evils? Would it not have been more
useful to have studied the nature of things, to have sought in nature
herself, or in human industry, for succours against those sorrows
with which mortals are afflicted, than to attribute the evil which
man experiences to an unknown power, against whose will it cannot be
supposed there exists any relief? The study of nature, the search after
truth, elevates the soul, expands the genius, is calculated to render
man active, to make him courageous. Theological notions appear to
have been made to debase him, to contract his mind, to plunge him into
despondence. In the place of attributing to the divine vengeance those
wars, those famines, those sterilities, those contagions, that multitude
of calamities, which desolate the earth; would it not have been more
useful, more consistent with truth, to have shewn man that these evils
were to be ascribed to his own folly, or rather to the unruly passions,
to the want of energy, to the tyranny of some princes, who sacrifice
nations to their frightful delirium? The irrational people, instead of
amusing themselves with expiations for their pretended crimes, seeking
to render themselves acceptable to imaginary powers; should they not
rather have sought in a more healthy administration, the true means of
avoiding those scourges, to which they were the victims? Natural evils
demand natural remedies: ought not experience then long since to
have convinced mortals of the inefficacy of supernatural remedies, of
expiatory sacrifices, of fastings, of processions, &c. which almost all
the people of the earth have vainly opposed to the disasters which they
experienced?
Let us then conclude, that theology with its notions, far from being
useful to the human species, is the true source of all those sorrows
which afflict the earth of all those errors by which man is blinded; of
those prejudices which benumb mankind; of that ignorance which renders
him credulous; of those vices which torment him; of those governments
which oppress him. Let us be fully persuaded that those theological,
supernatural ideas, with which man is inspired from his infancy, are
the actual causes of his habitual folly; are the springs of his
superstitious quarrels; of his sacred dissensions; of his inhuman
persecutions. Let us, at length, acknowledge, that they are these fatal
ideas which have obscured morality; corrupted polities; retarded the
progress of the sciences; annihilated happiness; banished peace from the
bosom of mankind, Then let it be no longer dissimulated, that all those
calamities, for which man turns his eyes towards heaven, bathed in
tears, have their spring in the imaginary systems he has adopted:
let him, therefore, cease to expect relief from them; let him seek
in nature, let him search in his own energies, those resources, which
superstition, deaf to his cries, will never procure for him. Let him
consult the legitimate desires of his heart, and he will find that which
he oweth to himself, also that which he oweth to others; let him examine
his own essence, let him dive into the aim of society, from thence he
will no longer be a slave; let him consult experience, he will find
truth, and he will discover, that _error can never possible render him
happy._