A Theist then asked permission to speak, and said:
Everyone has his own opinion, good or bad. I should be sorry to
distress any good man. First, I ask pardon of the Atheist; but it
seems to me that, compelled as he is to admit an excellent design in
the order of the universe, he is bound to admit an intelligence that
has conceived and carried out this design. It is enough, it seems to
me, that, when the Atheist lights a candle, he admits that it is for
the purpose of giving light. It seems to me that he should also grant
that the sun was made to illumine our part of the universe. We must
not dispute about such probable matters.
The Atheist should yield the more graciously since, being a good man,
he has nothing to fear from a master who has no interest in injuring
him. He may quite safely admit a God; he will not pay a penny the
more in taxes, and will not live less comfortably.
As to you, my pagan friend, I submit that you are rather late with
your project of restoring polytheism. For that Maxentius ought to
have defeated Constantine, or else Julian ought to have lived thirty
years longer.
I confess that I see no impossibility in the existence of several
beings far superior to us, each of whom would superintend some
heavenly body. Indeed, it would give me some pleasure to prefer
your Naiads, Dryads, Sylvans, Graces, and Loves to St. Fiacre, St.
Pancratius, Sts. Crepin and Crepinien, St. Vitus, St. Cunegonde, or
St. Marjolaine. But, really, one must not multiply things without
need; and as a single intelligence suffices for the regulation of the
world, I will stop at that until other powers show me that they share
its rule.
As to you, my Manichæan friend, you seem to me a duellist, very fond
of fighting. I am a peaceful man, and do not like to find myself
between two rivals who are ever at war. Your Ormuzd is enough for me;
you can keep your Ahriman.
I shall always be somewhat embarrassed in regard to the origin of
evil; but I suppose that the good Ormuzd, who made everything, could
not do better. I cannot offend him if I say to him: You have done all
that a powerful, wise, and good being could do. It is not your fault
if your works cannot be as good and perfect as yourself. Imperfection
is one of the essential differences between you and your creatures.
You could not make gods; it was necessary that, since men possessed
reason, they should display folly, just as there must be friction in
every machine. Each man has his dose of imperfection and folly, from
the very fact that you are perfect and wise. He must not be always
happy, because you are always happy. It seems to me that a collection
of muscles, nerves, and veins cannot last more than eighty or a
hundred years at the most, and that you must be for ever. It seems to
me impossible that an animal, necessarily compacted of desires and
wills, should not at times wish to serve his own purpose by doing
evil to his neighbour. You only never do evil. Lastly, there is
necessarily so great a distance between you and your works that the
good is in you, and the evil must be in them.[72]
As for me, imperfect as I am, I thank you for giving me a short span
of existence, and especially for not having made me a professor of
theology.
That is not at all a bad compliment. God could not be angry with me,
seeing that I do not wish to displease him. In fine, I feel that,
if I do no evil to my brethren and respect my master, I shall have
nothing to fear, either from Ahriman, or Cerberus and the Furies, or
Satan, or Knatbull, or St. Fiacre and St. Crepin; and I shall end my
days in peace and the pursuit of philosophy.
I come now to you, Mr. Abrabanel and Mr. Benjamin.[73] You seem
to me to be the maddest of the lot. The Kaffirs, Hottentots, and
blacks of New Guinea are more reasonable and decent beings than your
Jewish ancestors were. You have surpassed all nations in exorbitant
legends, bad conduct, and barbarism. You are paying for it; it is
your destiny. The Roman Empire has fallen; the Parsees, your former
masters, are scattered. The Armenians sell rags, and occupy a low
position in the whole of Asia. There is no trace left of the ancient
Egyptians. Why should you be a power?
As to you, my Turkish friend, I advise you to come to terms as soon
as possible with the Empress of Russia, if you wish to keep what you
have usurped in Europe. I am willing to believe that the victories of
Mohammed, son of Abdala, were miracles; but Catherine II. also works
miracles. Take care that she do not some day perform the miracle of
sending you back to the deserts from which you came. In particular,
continue to be tolerant; it is the true way to please the being of
beings, who is alike the father of Turks and Russians, Chinese and
Japanese, black and yellow man, and of the whole of nature.