At a time when we are on the eve of an important change in our
political affairs, which must evidently lead either to the recovery and
re-establishment of our liberties, or to a military despotism, those who
are connected with the press ought to use every exertion to enlighten
their fellow-citizens, and to assert their right of canvassing, in the
most free and unrestrained manner, every subject connected with the
happiness of man.
The priesthood have ever been convenient tools in the hands of
tyrants, to keep the bulk of the people in a degraded servility. By the
superstitious and slavish doctrines which they infuse into their minds,
they prevent them from thinking for themselves and asserting their own
independence. At a moment when national schools are erecting in every
quarter of the country, not with a sincere desire of enlightening the
rising generation, but with the insidious design of instilling into
their minds the doctrines of "Church and King," in order to bolster up
a little longer the present rotten, tottering, and corrupt system: at
a moment, too, when thousands of fanatic preachers are traversing the
country, with a view to subjugate the human mind to the baleful empire
of visonary enthusiasm and sectarian bigotry to the utter extinction
of every noble, manly, liberal, and pilanthropic principle;--at such a
moment as this, we thought that the "SYSTEM OF NATURE" could not fail
to render essential service to the cause both of civil and religious
liberty. No work, ancient or modern, has surpassed it, in the eloquence
and sublimity of its language, or in the facility with which it treats
the most abtruse and difficult subjects. It is, without exception, the
boldest effort the human mind has yet produced, in the investigation
of morals and theology--in the destruction of priestcraft and
superstition--and in developing the sources of all those passions and
prejudices which have proved so fatal to the tranquillity of the world.
The republic of letters has never produced an author whose pen was so
well calculated to emancipate mankind from all those trammels with which
the nurse, the schoolmaster and the priest have successively locked
up their noblest faculties, before they were capable of reasoning and
judging for themselves. The frightful apprehensions of the gloomy
bigot, and all the appalling terrors of superstition, are here utterly
annihilated, to the complete satisfaction of every unbiassed and
impartial person.--These we considered as necessary observations to
make, previous to any attempt at the biography of the author.
Biography may be reckoned among the most interesting of literary
productions. Its intrinsic value is such, that, though capable of
extraordinary embellishment from the hand of genius, yet no inferiority
of execution can so degrade it, as to deprive it of utility. Whatever
relates even to man in general, considered only as an aggregate of
active and intelligent beings, has a strong claim upon our notice; but
that which relates to our author, as distinguished from the rest of his
species, moving in a more exalted sphere, and towering above them by
the resplendent excellencies of his mind, seems to me to be peculiarly
calculated for our contemplation, and ought to form the highest pleasure
of our lives. There is a principle of curiosity implanted in us, which
leads us, in an especial manner, to investigate our fellow creatures;
the eager inquisitiveness with which the mechanic seeks to know the
history of his fellow-workmen and the ardour with which the philosopher,
the poet, or the historian hunts for details that may familiarize
him with, a Descartes or a Newton, with a Milton, a Hume, or a
Gibbon--spring from the same source. Their object, however, may
perhaps vary; for, in the former, it may be for the sake of detraction,
invidious cavil, or malice; in the latter, it is a sweet homage paid by
the human heart to the memory of departed genius.
It has been repeatedly observed that the life of a scholar affords few
materials for biography. This is only negatively true;--could every
scholar have a Boswell, the remark would vanish; or were every scholar
a Rousseau, a Gibbon, or a Cumberland it would be equally nugatory.
What can present higher objects of contemplation--what can claim
more forcibly our attention--where can we seek for subjects of a more
precious nature, than in the elucidation of the operations of mind,
the acquisition of knowledge, the gradual expansion of genius; its
application, its felicities, its sorrows, its wreaths of fame, its cold,
undeserved neglect? Such scenes, painted by, the artist himself, are a
rich bequest to mankind: even when traced by the hand of friendship
or the pencil of admiration, they possess a permanent interest in our
hearts. I cannot conceive a life more worthy of public notice, more
important, more interesting to human nature, than the life of a literary
man, were it executed according to the ideas I have formed of it: did
it exhibit a faithful delineation of the progress of intellect, from the
cradle upwards; did it portray, in accurate colors, the production of
what we call genius: by what accident it was first awakened; what were
its first tendencies; how directed to a particular object; by what means
it was nourished and unfolded; the gradual progress of its operation
in the production of a work; its hopes and fears; its delights; its
miseries; its inspirations; and all the thousand fleeting joys that so
often invest its path but for a moment, and then fade like the dews
of the morning. Let it contain too a transcript of the many nameless
transports that float round the heart, that dance in the gay circle
before the ardent gazing eye, when the first conception of some future
effort strikes the mind; how it pictures undefined delights of fame and
popular applause; how it anticipates the bright moments of invention,
and dwells with prophetic ecstasy on the felicitous execution of
particular parts, that already start into existence by the magic touch
of a heated imagination. Let it depict the tender feelings of solitude,
the breathings of midnight silence, the scenes of mimic life, of imaged
trial, that often occupy the musing mind; let it be such a work, so
drawn, so coloured, and who shall pronounce it inferior? Who rather
will not confess that it presents a picture of human nature, where every
heart may find some corresponding harmony? When, therefore, it is said,
that the life of a scholar is barren, it is so only because it has never
been properly delineated; because those parts only have been selected
which are common, and fail to distinguish him from the common man;
because we have never penetrated into his closet, or into his heart;
because we have drawn him only as an outward figure, and left unnoticed
that internal structure that would delight, astonish, and improve. And
then, when we compare the life of such a man with the more active one
of a soldier, a statesman, or a lawyer, we pronounce it insipid,
uninteresting. True;--the man of study has not fought for hire--he has
not slaughtered at the command of a master: he would disdain to do
so. Though unaccompanied with the glaring actions of public men, which
confound and dazzle by their publicity, but shrink from the estimation
of moral truth, it would present a far nobler picture; yes, and a more
instructive one:--the calm disciple of reason meditates in silence; he
walks his road with innoxious humility; he is poor, but his mind is his
treasure; he cultivates his reason, and she lifts him to the pinnacle of
truth; he learns to tear away the veil of self-love, folly, pride, and
prejudice, and bares the human heart to his inspection; he corrects and
amends; he repairs the breaches made by passion; the proud man passes
him by, and looks upon him with scorn; but he feels his own worth, that
ennobling consciousness which swells in every vein, and inspires him
with true pride--with manly independence: to such a man I could sooner
bow in reverence, than to the haughtiest, most successful candidate for
the world's ambition. But of such men, for the reason I have already
mentioned, our information is scanty. While of others, who have
commanded a greater share of public notoriety, venal or mistaken
admiration has given more than we wished to know. Among these respected
individuals of human nature, may be placed Mirabaud. Had Mirabaud been
an Englishman, who doubts but that we should have possessed at least
ample details of the usual subjects of biographical notice; while all
that has been collected among his own countrymen, is a scanty memoir in
a common dictionary. That we are doomed to remain ignorant of the life
of such men, speaks a loud disgrace.--I lament it.
JOHN BAPTISTE MIRABAUD, was born at Paris in the year 1674. He
prosecuted his infantile studies under the direction of his parents, and
was afterwards entered a member of the _Congregation of the Priests of
the Oratory_, where he passed several years, and produced some very bold
writings, which were never intended for publication.
He was subsequently appointed tutor to the princesses of the House of
Orleans, and then took the resolution of destroying the greater part of
the manuscripts that he produced while a member of the _Congregation_;
but the treachery of some of his friends, to whom he had confided his
manuscripts, rendered this precaution useless, for some of his works
were published during the time he remained the preceptor to his royal
pupils; among which number may be reckoned his "New Liberties of
Thought," a work but little calculated for gaining him friends in the
purlieus of the Court of Orleans. The "Origin and Antiquity of the
World," in three parts, was also published at this period, and from the
publication of this work, may be dated the resolution of M. de Mirabaud
to quit his office of preceptor, which he relinquished, having become
more independent; he now gave himself up entirely to his philosophical
studies, and produced the "System of Nature," with which he was assisted
by Diderot, D'Alembert, Baron D'Olbac, and others.
The profound metaphysical knowledge displayed throughout the System
of Nature, and the doctrines which are therein advanced, warrants the
conclusion, that it is at once the most decisive, boldest, and most
extraordinary work, that the human understanding ever had the courage to
produce. The study of metaphysics his generally been considered the most
terrific to the indolent mind; but the clear and perspicuous reasoning
of a Mirabaud, who has united the most profound argument, with the most
fascinating eloquence, charm and instruct us at the same time. But it
was not, to be expected that such doctrines as are contained in the
System of Nature, would be advanced without meeting with some opposition
from the superficial and bigoted metaphysicians, who feel an interest
in upholding a system of delusion and superstition. No! certainly not,
Their interest was threatened, and their _craft_ in danger, and the
consequence was, that the _Atheist_ or _Disciple of Nature_, has
been abused with every scurrilous epithet, "full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing."
Atheism is stigmatized with having "opened a wide door for libertinism,
destroying the social and moral compact; and striking a deadly blow
at religion. It is asserted that the atheist, who by his opinions has
deprived himself of the hope and consolation of a future life, has no
motive for the practise of virtue, or to contribute to the well being of
society. Deprived of a chimera which religion every where presents him,
he wanders through the cheerless gloom of scepticism, regardless of the
consequences of an abandoned life. Without a God, he acknowledges no
benefactor; without divine laws, he knows no rule for the conduct of
life, and submits to no law but his passions. An enemy to all social
order, he spurns at human laws, and breaks through every barrier opposed
to his wickedness." Under such colours is an atheist painted: a short
digression must be suffered to examine this picture, and to disprove the
assertions so sweepingly made.
I admit that atheism strikes a deadly blow at religion; because under
the cloak of religion, mankind have been oppressed in all ages; but that
it encourages libertinism, or destroys the "social and moral compact," I
have yet to learn. In all organized governments, men are restrained from
crime and compelled to submission by laws supposed to be made for the
general benefit. These laws are the effect of the first formation of
society for mutual preservation. Here then is a sufficient motive
for the one as well as the other, to contribute to the well-being of
society. The laws of Nature are the same in effect on the atheist
and the religionist. If man be led captive by his passions, and gives
himself to debauchery and voluptuousness, nature will punish him with
bodily infirmities and a debilitated mind. If he be intemperate, she
will shorten his days and bring him to the grave with the most poignant
remorse. The fatal effects of his vicious propensities will fall upon
his own head. A disturber of social order will live in continual fear
of the vengeance of society, and that very fear is a more dreadful
punishment than the just vengeance which perhaps he escapes. It renders
life burdensome, and makes a man hateful to himself. Can men have
stronger motives for the practise of virtue? The atheist is in full
possession of these motives, and the religionist is most completely
swayed by them, whatever may be his pretensions to others derived
from religion. But we are assured he has other motives; more powerful
incentives, in the promise of future rewards and punishments. This, like
all other chimerical doctrines, cannot be maintained if we look at the
general practise of mankind. Let us trace the effects of this doctrine,
or rather let us examine the actions, conduct, and character of men
professing it, and we shall see how little influence it has over them.
The bulk of society believe they shall answer in a future life for the
deeds done in the present. Nay, I hardly think one in a hundred thousand
will say they doubt it. What then is its effect? With this dreadful
sentence, _"Thou shalt go into everlasting punishment,"_ continually
sounded in their ears, do we not daily see the greatest enormities
committed? Are not the most horrid crimes perpetrated in all parts
of the world? The most vicious propensities and the most extravagant
follies are almost indiscriminately gratified. Is not vice frequently
triumphant, and virtue compelled to seek her own reward in retirement?
The laws of society are broken by the most flagrant injustice, and the
laws of nature outraged by the most shocking depravity. All this evil
exists in nations believing themselves to be accountable beings after
death. Where then are the beneficial effects arising, to mankind from
the promulgation of this doctrine? Men who cannot be restrained from
doing evil by human laws, have no dread of any other. Their whole lives
and conduct confirm this. Others who live in submission to the laws of
society, give themselves up to those vicious habits, (without fear of
divine laws) which the law does not take cognizance of. Men, not wholly
depraved, or not without the pale of society, generally respect the
laws, and fear the bad opinion of others. Hence we observe, when
interest or passion leads them into secret vices, they invariably play
the hypocrite; and although they are aware of the denunciations of their
God, whom they acknowledge is a witness to all their actions, while they
preserve their fair fame they still persevere. In fact, they live as if
they disbelieved in his existence; and yet the greatest criminal, the
most depraved wretch, would shudder at being told there is no God. The
atheist, as a man, is liable to commit the same crimes, and fall into
the same vices as the believer; but because he is an atheist, is he a
worse criminal than the other? In one respect, I conceive he is not so
bad. He only acts in defiance of _human_ laws,--he only offends men; the
other infringes _both divine_ and _human_;--he defies both God and man.
Both are injurious to society and themselves, and both are actuated by
the came motives.
Again we are told, that the well disposed part of mankind are rendered
more virtuous, and the vicious less vicious by this doctrine. How are
we to know that? If the virtuous man acts uprightly, does good to his
fellow creatures, restrains his passions, and returns good for evil,
experience teaches him it is his interest so to do. Those who are
viciously disposed are only deterred from crime by penal laws. Societies
cannot long exist, where evil has the ascendency. Without social
laws, this would really be the case, notwithstanding the threats of an
avenging God. If men were told they would not be answerable for the evil
committed in this life to human laws, but that God would punish them
after death, it is evident the human race would soon be exterminated.
On the other hand, tell them their crimes will never be punished by God,
or, in other words, there is no other God than NATURE, but that the laws
of men will avenge the offences against society; so long as those
laws are administered with justice and impartiality, so long will such
society continue to improve. Hence it is evident that the system which
will maintain order in society by itself, must be the best and most
rational. A good government without religion would be more solid and
lasting, and tend more to the preservation of mankind, than all the
theocratical or ecclesiastical governments that ever the world was
subject to.--Thus much for the opponents of atheism.
It has been asserted with a perverse obstinacy, by the advocates for the
existence of a deity, that the SYSTEM OF NATURE was never written by
the author whose name it bears.--It is granted that it was not published
during his life: but that circumstance forms no reason why such a
conclusion should be drawn. The persecutions which the atheists have
endured, were a sufficient excuse for the work not appearing in any form
during the life time of its venerable author. The Athenians sought to
try Diagoras the Melian, for atheism; but he fled from Athens, and a
price was offered for his head. Protagoras was banished from Athens, and
his books burnt, because he ventured to assert, that he knew nothing of
the gods. Stephen Dolet was burnt at Paris for atheism. Giordano Bruno
was burnt by the Inquisitors in Italy. Lucilio Vanini was burnt at
Thoulouse, through the kind offices of an Attorney-General. Bayle
was under the necessity of fleeing to Holland. Casimio Liszynski was
executed at Grodno;--and Akenhead at Edinborough. And the body of the
eloquent and erudite Hume, was obliged to be watched many nights by his
friends, lest it should be taken up by the fanatics, who considered him
one of the greatest monsters of iniquity, because he did not happen to
believe as they believed.--With these pictures of Christian persecution
before his eyes, is it surprising that M. de Mirabaud should adopt the
resolution of suffering the SYSTEM OF NATURE to appear as a posthumous
work? That the same fate would have attended him, the most devout
Christian will not undertake to deny.
However the sentiments of M. de Mirabaud may be condemned by the
fanatics, all those who knew him bear the most brilliant testimony of
his integrity, candour, and the soundness of his understanding; in a
word, to his social virtues, and the innocence of his manners. He died
universally regretted, at Paris, the twenty-fourth of June, 1760, in the
eighty-sixth year of his age.
The following works, written by him at different periods, were never
published:--_The Life of Jesus Christ. Impartial Reflections on the
Gospel. The Morality of Nature. An Abridged History of the Priesthood;
Ancient and Modern. The Opinions of the Ancients concerning the Jews._ A
wretched mutilated edition of this last work was published at Amsterdam,
in 1740, in two small volumes, under the title of _Miscellaneous
Dissertations_.