instructions of another with the serious intention of profiting by
them. In the present case he sees plain proofs of degraded self
estimation, of dishonesty, and of mean motives. But the prudent
man will go further--he will remark that dissolute manners, and
actions which are inevitably subversive of the peace and order, nay,
of the very existence of society, are the natural and necessary
consequences of irreligion. Should any doubt of this remain in his
mind; should he sometimes think of an Epictetus, or one or two
individuals of antiquity, who were eminently virtuous, without the
influence of religious sanctions, he should recollect, that the
Stoics were animated by the thought, that while the wise man was
playing the game of life, the gods were looking on, and pleased with
his skill. Let him read the beautiful account given by Dr. Smith of
the rise of the Stoic philosophy, and he will see that it was an
artificial but noble attempt of a few exalted minds, enthusiasts
in virtue, aiming to steel their souls against the dreadful but
unavoidable misfortunes to which they were continually exposed by
the daily recurring revolutions in the turbulent democracies of
ancient Greece. There, a philosopher was this day a magistrate, and
the next day a captive and a slave. He would see that this fair
picture of mental happiness and independence was fitted for the
contemplation of only a few choice spirits, but had no influence on
the bulk of mankind. He must admire the noble characters who were
animated by this manly enthusiasm, and who have really exhibited
some wonderful pictures of virtuous heroism; but he will regret,
that the influence of these manly, these natural principles, was not
more extensive. He will say to himself, "How will a whole nation
act when religious sanctions are removed, and men are actuated by
reason alone?"--He is not without instruction on this important
subject. France has given an awful lesson to surrounding nations,
by shewing them what is the natural effect of shaking off the
religious principle, and the veneration for that pure morality
which characterises Christianity. By a decree of the Convention,
(June 6, 1794) it is declared, that there is nothing criminal in
the promiscuous commerce of the sexes, and therefore nothing that
derogates from the female character, when woman forgets that she is
the depositary of all domestic satisfaction----that her honour is
the sacred bond of social life----that on her modesty and delicacy
depend all the respect and confidence that will make a man attach
himself to her society, free her from labour, share with her the
fruits of all his own exertions, and work with willingness and
delight, that she may appear on all occasions his equal, and the
ornament of all his acquisitions. In the very argument which this
selected body of senators has given for the propriety of this
decree, it has degraded woman below all estimation. "It is to
prevent her from murdering the fruit of unlawful love, by removing
her shame, and by relieving her from the fear of want." The senators
say, "the Republic wants citizens, and therefore must not only
remove this temptation of shame, but must take care of the mother
while she nurses the child. It is the property of the nation, and
must not be lost." The woman all the while is considered only as
the she-animal, the breeder of Sans Culottes. This is the _just_
morality of Illumination. It is really amusing (for things revolting
to nature now amuse) to observe with what fidelity the principles of
the Illuminati have expressed the sentiments which take possession
of a people who have shaken off the sanctions of Religion and
morality. The following is part of the address to _Psycharion_ and
the company mentioned in page 257: "Once more, Psycharion, I indulge
you with a look behind you to the flowery days of childhood. Now
look forwards, _young woman_! the holy circle of the marriageable,
(_mannbaren_) welcome you. Young men, honour the young woman, the
future breeder (_gebaererin_)!" Then, to all.--"Rejoice in the
dawn of Illumination and of Freedom. Nature at last enjoys her
sacred never-fading rights. Long was her voice kept down by civil
subordination; but the days of your majority now draw nigh, and
you will no longer, under the authority of guardians, account it a
reproach to consider with enlightened eyes the secret workshops of
nature, and to enjoy your work and duty." Minos thought this very
fine, but it raised a terrible disturbance and broke up the assembly.
Such are the effects of this boasted enlightening of the human mind
with respect to religion and morality. Let us next consider what is
the result of the mighty informations which we have got in respect
of our social or political connections.
II. We have learned the sum total of this political Illumination,
and see that, if true, it is melancholy, destructive of our present
comforts, numerous as they are, and affords no prospect of redress
from which we can profit, but, on the contrary, plunges mankind
into dissention, mutual injury, and universal misery, and all this
for the _chance_ only of prevailing in the contest, and giving
our posterity a _chance_ of going on in peace, if no change shall
be produced, as in former times, by the efforts of ambitious men.
But the Illumination appears to be partial, nay false. What is it?
It holds out to the prince nothing but the resignation of all his
possessions, rights and claims, sanctioned by the quiet possession
of ages, and by all the feelings of the human heart which give any
notion of right to his lowest subject. All these possessions and
claims are discovered to have arisen from usurpations, _and are
therefore tyranny_. It has been discovered, that all subordinate
subjections were enforced, _therefore their continuance is slavery_.
But both of these historical assertions are in a great degree false,
and the inferences from them are unreasonable. The world has gone on
as we see it go on at present. Most principalities or sovereignties
have arisen as we see personal authorities and influence arise every
day among ourselves. Business for the whole must be done. Most men
are sufficiently occupied by their private affairs, and they are
indolent even in these--they are contented when another does the
thing for them. There is not a little village, nor a society of men,
where this is not seen every day. Some men have an enjoyment in this
kind of vicarious employment. Other men like influence and power,
and thus are compensated for their trouble. Thus many petty managers
of public affairs arise in every country. The mutual animosities of
individuals, and still more, the animosities of tribes, clans, and
different associations, give rise to another kind of superiors--to
leaders, who direct the struggles of the rest, whether for offence
or defence. The descendants of Israel said, "they wanted a man to go
out before the people, like other nations." As the small business
of a few individuals requires a manager or a leader, so do some
more general affairs of these petty superiors.--Many of these also
are indolent enough to wish this trouble taken off their hands;
and thus another rank of superiors arises, and a third, and so on,
till a great State may be formed; and in this gradation each class
is a competent judge of the conduct of that class only which is
immediately above it.
All this may arise, and has often arisen, from voluntary concession
alone. This concession may proceed from various causes,--from
confidence in superior talents--from confidence in great
worth,--most generally from the respect or deference which all
men feel for great possessions. This is frequently founded in
self-interest and expectations of advantage; but it is natural to
man, and perhaps springs from our instinctive sympathy with the
satisfactions of others--we are unwilling to disturb them, and even
wish to promote them.
But this subordination may arise, and has often arisen, from other
causes--from the love of power and influence, which makes some
men _eager_ to lead others, or even to manage their concerns. We
see this every day, and it may be perfectly innocent. It often
arises from the desire of gain of one kind or another.--This also
may frequently be indulged with perfect innocence, and even with
general advantage. Frequently, however, this subordination is
produced by the love of power or of gain pushed to an immoderate
degree of ambition, and rendered unjust. Now there arise oppression,
tyranny, sufferings, and slavery. Now appears an opposition between
the rights or claims of the ruler and of the people. Now the
rulers come to consider themselves as a different class, and their
transactions are now only with each other.--Prince becomes the rival
or the enemy of Prince; and in their contests one prevails, and the
dominion is enlarged. This rivalship may have begun in any rank of
superiors; even between the first managers of the affairs of the
smallest communities; and it must be remarked that they only are the
immediate gainers or losers in the contest, while those below them
live at ease, enjoying many advantages of the delegation of their
own concerns.
No human society has ever proceeded purely in either of these
two ways, but there has always been a mixture of both.--But this
process is indispensably necessary for the formation of a great
nation, and for all the consequences that result only from such
a coalition.--Therefore it is necessary for giving rise to all
those comforts, and luxuries, and elegances, which are to be found
only in great and cultivated states. It is necessary for producing
such enjoyments as we see around us in Europe, which we prize so
highly, and for which we are making all this stir and disturbance.
I believe that no man who expects to be believed will positively
assert that human nature and human enjoyments are not meliorated
by this cultivation.--It seems to be the intention of nature, and,
notwithstanding the follies and vices of many, we can have little
hesitation in saying that there are in the most cultivated nations
of Europe, and even in the highest ranks of those nations, men of
great virtue and worth, and of high accomplishment--Nor can we deny
that such men are the finest specimens of human nature. Rosseau
indeed wrote a whimsical pamphlet, in which he had the vanity to
think that he had proved that all these fruits of cultivation were
losses to humanity and virtue--Yet Rousseau could not be contented
with the society of the rude and unpolished, although he pretended
that he was almost the sole worshipper of pure virtue.--He supported
himself, not by assisting the simple peasant, but by writing music
and luscious novels for the pampered rich.
This is the circumstance entirely overlooked, or artfully kept out
of sight, in the boasted Illumination of these days. No attention
is paid to the important changes which have happened in national
greatness, in national connection, in national improvement--yet
we never think of parting with any of the advantages, real or
imaginary, which these changes have produced--nor do we reflect
that in order to keep a great nation together--to make it act with
equality, or with preponderancy, among other nations, the individual
exertions must be concentrated, must be directed--and that this
requires a ruler vested with supreme power, and _interested by
some great and endearing motive_, such as hereditary possession of
this power and influence, to maintain and defend this coalition
of men.--All this is overlooked, and we attend only to the
subordination which is indispensably necessary. Its grievances are
immediately felt, and they are heightened tenfold by a delicacy
or sensibility which springs from the great improvements in the
accommodations and enjoyments of life, which the gradual usurpation
and subsequent subordination have produced, and continue to support.
But we are determined to have the elegance and grandeur of a palace
without the prince.--We will not give up any of our luxuries and
refinements, yet will not support those high ranks and those nice
minds which produced them, and which must continue to keep them
from degenerating into barbarous simplicity and coarse sensuality.
We would keep the philosophers, the poets, the artists, but not the
Mæcenases. It is very true that in such a state there would be no
_Conjuration des Philosophes_; for in such a state this vermin of
_philosophes_ and scribblers would not have existed. In short, we
would have what is impossible.
I have no hesitation in saying, that the British Constitution is
the form of government _for a great and refined nation_, in which
the ruling sentiments and propensities of human nature seem most
happily blended and balanced. There is no occasion to vaunt it
as the ancient rights of Britons, the wisdom of ages, &c. It has
attained its present pitch of perfection by degrees, and this not
by the efforts of wisdom, but by the struggles of vice and folly,
working on a rich fund of good nature, and of manly spirit, that are
conspicuous in the British character. I do not hesitate to say that
it is the _only_ form of government which will admit and give full
exercise to all the respectable propensities of our nature, with the
least chance of disturbance and the greatest probability of man's
arriving at the highest pitch of improvement in every thing that
raises him above the beasts of the field. Yet there is no part of
it that may not, that is not, abused, by pushing it to an improper
length, and the same watchful care is necessary for preserving our
inestimable blessings that was employed in acquiring them. This
is to be done, not by flying at once to an abstract theory of the
rights of man. There is an evident folly in this procedure. What
is this theory? It is the best general sketch that we can draw of
social life, deduced from our knowledge of human nature. And what
is this knowledge? It is a well digested abstract, or rather a
declaration _of what we have observed_ of human actions. What is
the use therefore of this intermediate picture, this theory of the
rights of man?--It has a chance of being unlike the original----it
must certainly have imperfections, therefore it can be of no use to
us. We should go at once to the original--we should consider how men
_have acted_--what _have_ been their mutual expectations--their fond
propensities--what of these are inconsistent with each other--what
are the degrees of indulgence which _have been_ admitted in them
all without disturbance.--I will venture to say that whoever does
this, will find himself imperceptibly led to contemplate a mixed
hereditary monarchy, and will figure to himself a parliament of
King, Lords, and Commons, all looking at each other with somewhat of
a cautious or jealous eye, while the rest of the nation are fitting,
"each under his own vine and under his own fig-tree, and there is
none to make him afraid;"--in one word, the Constitution of Great
Britain.
A most valuable result of such contemplation will be a thorough
conviction that the grievance which is most clamorously insisted on
is the inevitable consequence of the liberty and security which we
enjoy. I mean ministerial corruption, with all the dismal tale of
placemen, and pensioners, and rotten boroughs, &c. &c. These are
never seen in a despotic government--there they are not wanted--nor
can they be very apparent in an uncultivated and poor state--but in
a luxurious nation, where pleasures abound, where the returns of
industry are secure; here an individual looks on every thing as his
own acquisition--he does not feel his relation to the state--has no
patriotism--thinks that he would be much happier if the state would
let him alone. He is fretted by the restraints which the public weal
lays on him--therefore government and governors appear as checks and
hindrances to his exertions--hence a general inclination to resist
administration. Yet public business must be done, that we may lie
down and rise again in safety and peace. Administration must be
supported--there are always persons who wish to possess the power
that is exercised by the present ministers, and would turn them
out. How is all this to be remedied? I see no way but by applying
to the selfish views of individuals--by rewarding the friends of
administration--This may be done with perfect virtue--and from
this the selfish will conceive hopes, and will support a virtuous
ministry--but they are as ready to help a wicked one. This becomes
the greatest misfortune of a free nation. Ministers are tempted to
bribe--and, if a systematic opposition be considered as a necessary
part of a practical constitution, it is almost indispensable--and
it is no where so prevalent as in a pure democracy. Laws may be
contrived to make it very troublesome, but can never extirpate
it nor greatly diminish it: this can be done only by despotism,
or by national virtue. It is a shameful complaint--we should not
reprobate a few ministers, but the thousands who take the bribes.
Nothing tends so much to diminish it in a corrupted nation as great
limitations to the eligibility of representatives--and this is the
beauty of our constitution.
_We have not discovered_, therefore, by this boasted Illumination,
that Princes and superiors are useless, and must vanish from the
earth; nor that the people have now attained full age, and are fit
to govern themselves. We want only to revel a little on the last
fruits of national cultivation, which we would quickly consume, and
never allow to be raised again. No matter how this progress began,
whether from concession or usurpation--We possess it, and, if wise,
we will preserve it, by preserving its indispensable supports. They
have indeed been frequently employed very improperly, but their most
pernicious abuse has been this breed of scribbling vermin, which
have made the body politic smart in every limb.
Hear what opinion was entertained of the sages of France by
their Prince, the father of Louis XVI. the unfortunate martyr of
Monarchy. "By the principles of our new Philosophers, the Throne
no longer wears the splendour of divinity. They maintain that
it arose from violence, and that by the same justice that force
erected it, force may again shake it, and overturn it. The people
can never give up their power. They only let it out for their own
advantage, and always retain the right to rescind the contract,
and resume it whenever their personal advantage, their only rule
of conduct, requires it. Our philosophers teach in public what our
passions suggest only in secret. They say to the Prince that all
is permitted only when all is in his power, and that his duty is
fulfilled when he has pleased his fancy. Then, surely, if the laws
of self-interest, that is, the self-will of human passions, shall
be so generally admitted, that we thereupon forget the eternal laws
of God and of Nature, all conceptions of right and wrong, of virtue
and vice, of good and evil, must be extirpated from the human heart.
The throne must totter, the subjects must become unmanageable and
mutinous, and their ruler hard-hearted and inhuman. The people will
be incessantly oppressed or in an uproar."--"What service will it be
if I order such a book to be burnt?--the author can write another
to-morrow." This opinion of a Prince is unpolished indeed, and
homely, but it is just.
Weishaupt grants, that "there will be a terrible convulsion, and a
storm--but this will be succeeded by a calm--the unequal will now be
equal--and when the cause of dissension is thus removed, the world
will be in peace."--True, when the causes of dissension are removed.
Thus, the destruction of our crop by vermin is at an end when a
flood has swept every thing away--but as new plants will spring
up in the waste, and, if not instantly devoured, will again cover
the ground with verdure, so the industry of man, and his desire of
comfort and consideration, will again accumulate in the hands of
the diligent a greater proportion of the good things of life. In
this infant state of the emerging remains of former cultivation,
comforts, which the present inhabitants of Europe would look on with
contempt, will be great, improper, and hazardous acquisitions. The
principles which authorise the proposed dreadful equalisation will
as justly entitle the idle or unsuccessful of future days to strip
the possessor of his advantages, and things must ever remain on
their savage level.
III. I think that the impression which the insincerity of conduct
of those instructors will leave on the mind, must be highly useful.
They are evidently teaching what they do not believe themselves--and
here I do not confine my remark to their preparatory doctrines,
which they afterwards explode. I make it chiefly with respect to
their grand ostensible principle, which pervades the whole, a
principle which they are obliged to adopt against their will.--They
know that the principles of virtue are rooted in the heart, and
that they can only be smothered--but did they pretend to eradicate
them and proclaim _hominem homini lupum_, all would spurn at their
instruction. We are wheedled, by tickling our fancy with a notion
that sacred virtue is not only secure, but that it is only in such
hearts that it exerts its native energy. Sensible that the levelling
maxims now spoken of are revolting to the mind, the Illuminators
are under the necessity of keeping us from looking at the shocking
picture, by displaying a beautiful scene of Utopian happiness--and
they rock us asleep by the eternal lullaby of morality and universal
philanthropy. Therefore the foregoing narration of the personal
conduct of these instructors and reformers of the world, is highly
useful. All this is to be brought about by the native loveliness of
pure virtue, purged of the corruptions which superstitious fears
have introduced, and also purged of the selfish thoughts which
are avowed by the advocates of what their opponents call true
religion. This is said to hold forth eternal rewards to the good,
and to threaten the wicked with dreadful punishment. Experience
has shown how inefficient such motives are. Can they be otherwise?
say our Illuminators. Are they not addressed to a principle that
is ungenerous and selfish? But our doctrines, say they, touch
the hearts of the worthy. Virtue is beloved for her own sake,
and all will yield to her gentle sway. But look, Reader, look at
Spartacus the murderer, at Cato the keeper of poisons and the
thief--Look at Tiberius, at Alcibiades, and the rest of the Bavarian
Pandemonium. Look at poor Bahrdt. Go to France--look at Lequinio,
at Condorcet[26]. Look at the Monster Orleans.----All were liars.
Their divinity had no influence on their profligate minds. They
only wanted to wheedle you, by touching the strings of humanity and
goodness which are yet braced up in your heart, and which still
yield sweet harmony if you will accompany their notes with those
of religion, and neither clog them with the groveling pleasures of
sense, nor damp the whole with the thought of eternal silence.
[26] De la Metherie says, (_Journ. de Phys. Nov. 1792_,) that
Condorcet was brought up in the house of the old Duke of
Rochefoucault, who treated him as his son--got Turgot to create a
lucrative office for him, and raised him to all his eminence--yet he
pursued him with malicious reports--and actually employed ruffians
to assassinate him. Yet is Condorcet's writing a model of humanity
and tenderness.
A most worthy and accomplished gentleman, who took refuge in this
country, leaving behind him his property, and friends to whom he
was most tenderly attached, often said to me that nothing so much
affected him as the revolution in the hearts of men.--Characters
which were unspotted, hearts thoroughly known to himself, having
been tried by many things which search the inmost folds of
selfishness or malevolence--in short, persons whose judgments were
excellent, and on whose worth he could have rested his honour
and his life, so fascinated by the contagion, that they came at
last to behold, and even to commit the most atrocious crimes with
delight.--He used sometimes to utter a sigh which pierced my heart,
and would say, that it was caused by some of those things that had
come across his thoughts. He breathed his last among us, declaring
that it was impossible to recover peace of mind, without a total
oblivion of the wickedness and miseries he had beheld.--What a
valuable advice, "Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest
he fall."--When the prophet told Hazael that he would betray his
Prince, he exclaimed, "Is thy servant a dog, that he should do such
a thing?" Yet next day he murdered him.
Never since the beginning of the world, has true religion received
so complete an acknowledgment of her excellence, as has been
extorted from the fanatics who have attempted to destroy her.
Religion stood in their way, and the wretch Marat, as well as the
steady villain Weishaupt, saw that they could not proceed till
they had eradicated all sentiments of the moral government of
the universe. Human nature, improved as it has been by religion,
shrunk from the talks that were imposed, and it must therefore
be brutalized--The grand confederation was solemnly sworn to by
millions in every corner of France--but, as Mirabeau said of the
declaration of the Rights of Man, it must be made only the "Almanack
of the bygone year"--Therefore Lequinio must write a book, declaring
oaths to be nonsense, unworthy of San Culottes, and all religion
to be a farce. Not long after, they found that they had some use
for a God--but he was gone--and they could not find another. Their
constitution was gone--and they have not yet found another. What
is now left them on which they can depend for awing a man into a
respect for truth in his judicial declarations? what but the honour
of a Citizen of France, who laughs at all engagements, which he has
broken again and again? Religion has taken off with her every sense
of human duty. What can we expect but villainy from an Archbishop
of Paris and his chapter, who made a public profession that they
had been playing the villains for many years, teaching what they
thought to be a bundle of lies? What but the very thing which they
have done, cutting each other's throats?--Have not the enlightened
citizens of France applauded the execution of their fathers? Have
not the furies of Paris denounced their own children? But turn your
eyes from the horrifying spectacle, and think on your own noble
descent and alliance. You are not the accidental productions of a
fatal chaos, but the work of a Great Artist, creatures that are
cared for, born to noble prospects, and conducted to them by the
plainest and most simple precepts, "to do justly, to love mercy,
and to walk humbly before God," not bewildered by the false and
fluttering glare of French Philosophy, but conduced by this clear,
single light, perceivable by all, "Do to others what you should
reasonably expect them to do to you."
Think not the Muse whose sober voice you hear,
Contracts with bigot frown her fallen brow,
Casts round Religion's orb the mists of Fear,
Or shades with horror what with smiles should glow.
No--she would warn you with seraphic fire,
Heirs as ye are of Heaven's eternal day,
Would bid you boldly to that Heaven aspire,
Not sink and slumber in your cells of clay.