figure to ourselves a period, when, by the successive degradation of
character, the opinion of the public would no longer indicate the way to
fame, nor resound to excite ambition; the recompenses it offers would
not be a motive sufficiently powerful to influence men. Thus, in a
country, in a metropolis, where covetousness seemed triumphant, where
every body would appear to pursue that fortune which is only acquired by
intrigue, and the vices of those who bestow it, respect for the real
interest of the people, and attention to lighten their burthens, would
no longer purchase renown. In like manner, in a country where despotism
reigns, and the people are accustomed to prostrate themselves before
power, they would acknowledge no other idol; we should not there be able
to acquire a contemporary fame by elevation of character, by tempering
with wisdom the exercise of authority, and allowing the citizens to
enjoy that degree of freedom, which does not degenerate into
licentiousness. It is then morality, and morality alone, which comes at
all times, and in all circumstances, to resist the revolutions of habit
and opinion, of which history furnishes examples, and of which men are
ever susceptible.
I ought not to neglect another very important consideration: princes, by
the elevation of their rank, and influence on the national manners, find
that they are in that singular situation, where one is more called to
direct the reigning opinion, than to receive instruction and
encouragement from it: thus we are impelled to wish, that a monarch
should have principles which flow from his heart, and which depend on
his reflections, from which he may be able to derive, at all times, a
force properly his own, a natural courage. It is necessary for a prince
to investigate and decide on his own conduct; and a sublime morality
should nourish in his heart an ideal model of perfection, with which he
can continually compare the opinions of the world and the private
judgment of his conscience.
In short, and this last reflection which I have made will apply, in a
general manner, to the preceding remarks; the opinion of the public, the
just complaints of the people, are sometimes a long while in reaching
the prince; they ring in the kingdom before he hears the rumour; they
wander round the palace, but the whispers do not reach him; vanity,
pride, and every vice excludes them; the old courtiers sneer, and the
insignificant pursuers of credit or favour amuse themselves by indulging
their turn for ridicule. The ministers, who are followed by the clamour,
are often importuned by it; and when it reaches their master, find some
method to weaken its impression, attributing these commotions to private
passions, and giving the name of cabal to a just indignation against
vice. Yes, such is the unhappy fate of princes, that the peace of a
state is often tottering, before the opinion of the world reaches them,
and discovers the truth; a new consideration, very proper to convince
us, that the power of opinion can never equal in utility those grand
principles of morality, which, by the aid of religion, are fixed, in the
hearts of men, to give them laws, without distinction of birth, rank, or
dignity.
But if, from sovereigns, we carry our views to those who share their
confidence, we shall perceive still more the absolute necessity of an
active and governing morality. Ministers, without virtue, are more to be
feared than sovereigns indifferent to public good; newly come out of the
crowd they know better than the monarch the selfish use that they can
make of all the passions and vices; and as they are connected with
society, as they have a continual relation with the different orders of
the state, their corruptions are propagated, and their dangerous
influence spreads to a great distance. Attacked, nevertheless, by the
public, they become still more mischievous in their means of warding off
danger, for despairing of disguise before the attentive eyes of a whole
people, they turn their address against the prince; they study, they pry
into his weaknesses, and artfully encourage those which may protect or
cover the defects of their character; they apply themselves, at the same
time, to adorn immorality with every grace which can render it amiable,
and they endeavour to make virtue hateful, by delineating it as austere,
imperious, unsociable, and almost incompatible with our morals and
manners: it is thus that ministers, not restrained by principles,
occasion not only the misery of a country whilst their influence lasts,
but they poison the source of public felicity, by weakening in the
monarch his sentiments of duty, diverting his good dispositions, and
discouraging, if I may say so, his natural virtues.
In short, the picture which I have just drawn will produce another
important observation: the prince, after having wandered out of the path
of true glory, may return, when he pleases, to the love of virtue and
greatness; all the avenues are open to him, all hearts ready to welcome
him, we have an inclination to love him, and desire to esteem him, whom
fate has placed at the head of the nation; and who, invested with the
majesty which he borrows from a long train of ancestors, exhibits
himself surrounded by all the enchantments of a diadem; we adopt with
pleasure any interpretation which can excuse his conduct; we impute to
ill counsels the faults which he has committed; and we are eager to
enter with him into a new contract of esteem and hope. It is not the
same with ministers; a like indulgence is not due to them, because they
cannot throw the blame on others, and all their actions proceed from
themselves; when they have once lost the opinion of the public, their
depravity will increase daily; because, to maintain their post they are
obliged to redouble their intrigues and dissimulation.
I have maturely reflected: the religion of princes, of ministers, of
government in general, is the first source of the happiness of the
people; we despise it, because it is not our invention, and we often
give the preference to those artifices of the mind, which seduce us as
being our own work; and perhaps they are wanted, after having lost sight
of this sure and faithful guide, this companion of true genius, which,
like it, prefers easy and simple means. Yes, this exalted virtue,
resembling superior abilities, rejects equally those weak resources and
inventions, which derive not their origin from an elevated sentiment or
grand thought; and, whilst one obliges a statesman to respect honour,
justice, and truth, the other discovers the union of these principles
with the just means which strengthen authority, and with the true glory
and durable success of politics; in short, whilst one renders him
anxious about the happiness of the people, the other shows how, from the
bosom of this happiness, they would see rise insensibly an agreement of
interests and of wills, of whose extensive use we are still ignorant.
If we wish to dwell a moment on the private happiness of princes, we
shall readily perceive, that they have a real want of the encouragement
religion affords. Their distinguished authority appears, indeed, to
their mind, a singular privilege; they believe this power should extend
to every thing, and they indiscretly endeavour to accelerate the moments
of enjoyment; but as they cannot change the law of nature, it happens,
that in delivering themselves up to every thing which seduces their
imagination, they experience as quickly the sad langour of indifference,
and the oppression of apathy.
Kings, in the exercise of their intellectual faculties are exposed to
the same extremes; providence having placed them on the pinnacle of
fortune, they consequently have not been led from one view to another,
and know not those gradations which actuate their subjects in the name
of vanity, self-love, or fortune.—Alas! we obey so quickly, and their
desires are so soon gratified, that their taste and inclinations cannot
be renewed with the quickness necessary to enable them to fill the
irksome void which so frequently occurs. If the magnificent end which
religion offers were to be obscured, and if, henceforth, we were to
consider it as a fallacious illusion, unworthy of our attention, kings
would soon attain to that term when the future would appear to their
mind a barren uniformity, a space without colour or form.
The numerous duties of princes, undoubtedly, afford a continual source
of satisfaction; but it is necessary that they should be able to connect
all their obligations to a grand idea, the only one which can constantly
animate their actions and thoughts, who have need of neither favour nor
advancement from their fellow-creatures. And how much would it
contribute to their happiness sometimes, to imagine themselves between
this world, in which they are weary of their own power, and that
magnificent future; the sublime contemplation of which would carry them,
with a new charm, to the exercise of their authority! What pleasure then
would flow from this authority, the source of so much good!—What
pleasure would they not find in more closely imitating the divine
beneficence, the most comfortable of all ideas, and what a moment for
him, when particularly conscious of the presence of the exalted friend
of the whole human race, he should be able to reflect, in the morning,
on the people he was going to make happy; and in the evening, on those
he had actually done good to. What a difference between these delicious
moments, whose influence the nation feels, and those insignificant
levees, only known to courtiers, in which the monarch is the spectacle,
and tastes the sad pleasure of seeing so many men cringing before his
own image. What a difference, even between these rapturous sensations,
and those raised by flattery, or the dazzling parade which surrounds
him, in the midst of which he cannot discern himself, whether he is a
great man, or only a king.
In short, we ought to acknowledge, that the more extensive the horizon,
which opens before sovereigns, the greater is the number of duties
presented to their reflections, the more they must feel the want of that
sustaining power so infinitely superior to their own strength: they are
conscious of the disproportion which exists between the extent of their
authority and the means entrusted to human nature; and it is only by
supporting themselves against that mysterious pillar, erected by
religion, that they can be firm, and consider without affright, that
Providence has called them to regulate and direct the destiny of a whole
empire. It was when profoundly meditating on the existence of a God;
reflecting on the influence and various relations of such a grand
thought, that Marcus Aurelius discovered all the extent of his duties,
and felt, at the same time, the courage and the will to fulfil them. The
happy and constant agreement of his actions and principles made his
reign an illustrious example of wisdom and morality.
We must confess, that it is to virtue, supported by every sentiment
which it imprints on the human heart, that we should wish to confide the
sacred deposit of public happiness; this alone is always faithful and
vigilant, surpasses the spur of praise, and, by the ascendency of a
great example, leads men to the knowledge of every thing they ought to
admire.
CHAP. VIII.
_An Objection drawn from the Wars and from the Commotions which Religion
has given Rise to._
I shall present, at first, this objection in all its force, or rather I
will not seek to weaken it; it would be needless to recal to the memory
of men all the evils that have happened during a long series of years,
with which we have reason to reproach the blind and savage zeal of
religious fanaticism. Every one has present to his mind those multiplied
acts of intolerance which have sullied the annals of history; every one
knows the scenes of discord, of war, and fury, which theological
controversies have caused amongst men; they have been informed of the
fatal consequences which these enterprizes have brought in their train,
and which the rare virtues of a great king have not been able to
justify. In short, to maintain, in all ages, a remembrance of the fatal
abuses which have been committed in the name of the God of Peace, it
would be sufficient to describe those direful days, when some different
tenet produced a sentence of proscription, and the frightful signal of
the most cruel frenzies.
It is thus then, that in all times, by an absurd tyranny, or by a
ferocious enthusiasm, triumphs have been contrived for the eager
detractors of religion. Let us examine, however, if the deductions that
they wish to draw from these errors of the human mind, are founded on
reason and justice.
I shall not stop to observe, that religion has oftener been the pretext,
than the true motive, of the unhappy convulsions of which it appears at
present the sole origin; or stop to recal the various political
advantages, which could only arise from such a grand principle of
action; those august testimonies are commemorated in history: I shall
only borrow the support of reason, and shall bound my discussion to a
few simple reflections.
Do you think, that by relating the different abuses of authority we
could prove the advantage of anarchy? Could we decry every species of
jurisprudence, by recounting all the ills which have been produced by
chicane? Should we be able to throw an odium on the sciences, by
recalling all the fatal discoveries which are owing to our researches?
Would it be proper to stifle every kind of self-love and activity, by
reciting the different crimes which covetousness, pride, and ambition
have given rise to? And ought we, then, to desire to annihilate
religion, because fanaticism has made an instrument of it to distress
the human species? All these questions are similar, and all should be
resolved in the same manner: thus we may say with respect to them, that
in all our interests and passions, it is by acquired knowledge, and the
light of reason, that right is separated from wrong; but we ought never
to confound their proximity with a real identity.
Fanaticism and religion have not any connection, though very often these
ideas are found united. It is not the worship of the common Father of
men; it is not the morality of the gospel, whose precepts lead to
goodness and forbearance, which inspires the spirit of persecution; we
should attribute it to a blind madness, resembling all those wild errors
and crimes which dishonour humanity. But since, at present, the excesses
to which men abandon themselves do not induce us to condemn, as a
misfortune, all the sentiments of which the criminal passions are only
the extreme, why do we wish to refuse religion the gratitude which is
its due, because sometimes it has given birth to hatred and unhappy
divisions? It would be necessary rather to remark, that intolerant zeal
is, of all the errors of the human mind, that on which the progress of
our knowledge appears to have had most influence. In fact, whilst
fanaticism, gradually weakened, seems to be now verging to its decline,
the disorders connected with the common passions of ambition, love of
wealth, and thirst of pleasure, remain in all their force. However, what
sentiment, what predominant idea, has a greater claim to pardon for its
mistakes than devotion? By what an infinite number of benefits the pure
spirit of religion makes amends for the abuses which spring from the
false interpretation of its precepts. It is to this spirit, as we have
shown, that men owe the stability of public order and the firm
principles of justice: it procures the indigent the succours of charity,
and virtue its encouragement; oppressed innocence its only refuge, and
sensibility its dearest hopes. Yes, the pure spirit of religion
surrounds us on every side, it makes the charm, of solitude, the band of
society, the invigorater of intimate affections; and can we calumniate
it and wish to destroy it, on recollecting the tyrannic opinions of some
priests and sovereigns, whose principles and conduct we now detest?
I shall further remark, and ask why men denounce a sentence of
reprobation against religion, and give as the motive, the ancient wars
of which it has been the origin; whilst they never contest the
importance of commerce, though rivers of blood have been continually
shed for the smallest advantage on this account? Can they be so mistaken
in their judgment, as to compare a few pecuniary advantages, which one
political state never enjoys, but at the expence of another, with those,
as precious as they are universal, of which religion is the origin and
support?
In short, among the various arguments that are employed to attack these
opinions, the most frivolous, undoubtedly, is that which derives all its
force from the errors and faults of which the present times do not
furnish any example. What should we say if, at the moment when a superb
edifice was firm on its foundation, we should be exhorted to level it
with the ground, by a relation of all the accidents its erection
occasioned?
Throwing then a painful retrospect on the period of history, when
religion was made the pretext of wars and cruelty; let us oppose to the
return of those sanguinary scenes, let us oppose to the spirit of
intolerance all the force of wisdom, and the instructions of that
religion which they pretend to serve by a blind zeal. But far from
freeing us from the respect which we owe to such salutary opinions,
which men have abused, let us take advantage of experience, as a new
defence against the wanderings of our imaginations, and the surprises of
our passions[2].
CHAP. IX.
_Another Objection examined. The Sabbath._
I do not intend to place among the objections I ought to discuss, nor in
the number of arguments, that it is important to examine, the various
opinions on such and such parts of religious worship, nor the
difficulties raised against the adoption of some dogmatic notion,
thought essential by some, and considered with indifference by others:
it is not a treatise of controversial theology which I wish to compose;
and it is still less the doctrines of one particular church, which I
would oppose to that of another; all of them connect morality to the
commands of a Supreme Being; they all of them see in the public worship
the respectful expression of a sentiment of love and gratitude towards
the Author of Nature. Thus, those who might think they perceived some
imperfections in the system, or in the forms of worship, adopted in a
nation, should not use this objection to dispute the utility of
religion, since the reflections, which have been just made on its
importance, may be applied equally to the doctrines of all countries,
and the principles of every sect.
I shall dwell then on the only difficulty which interests, without
distinction, the different religions of Europe.
The establishment of public worship, and the necessity of consecrating
at least one day in every week, occasions, say some, a suspension of
labour too frequent; and this suspension injures the state, and
diminishes the resources of the people.
I may at first observe, that such objections would appear very weak, if
compared with the great advantages which men owe to religion! An
increase of wealth can never outweigh order, morality, and happiness.
But I must go further to prove, that a day of rest, devoted amongst us
to public worship, cannot injure the political strength; and that so far
from being contrary to the interests of the people, it protects and
favours them; and as I invariably prefer such interests to all others, I
shall begin by demonstrating, in a few words, the justness of this
proposition.
We should be mistaken if we thought, that in a given space of time, men
forced, by the inequality of conditions, to live by their labour, would,
by observing the precepts of religion, better their situation, if they
were not obliged to rest from labour one day in every week.
It is necessary, in order to perceive this truth, to examine, first,
what is now the measure of wages; it is not an exact proportion between
labour and its reward. In fact, if we consulted only the light of reason
and equity, no one, I believe, would dare to decide, that the most
scanty necessaries is the just price of fatiguing and painful labour,
which commences at the dawn, and does not finish till the setting of the
sun: we should not be able to maintain, that in the midst of his
enjoyments, and in the bosom of luxurious idleness, the rich ought not
to grant any other retribution to those who sacrifice their time and
strength to increase their revenue and multiply their enjoyments. It is
not then by the principles of common sense or reflection, that the wages
of the generality have been fixed; it is a compact established by power,
a yoke to which the weak must submit. The possessor of a vast domain
would see all his riches vanish, if numerous labourers did not come to
cultivate his estate, and carry into his store-house the fruit of their
toil; but, as the number of men without property is immense, their
concurrence, and the pressing need that they have to labour for a
subsistence, obliges them to receive the law from him who can, in the
bosom of ease, wait quietly for their services; and it results from this
habitual relation between the rich and poor, that the wages for hard
labour are constantly reduced to the most scanty allowance, that is to
say, to what is only sufficient to satisfy their daily and indispensable
wants.
This system once settled, if it were possible, that, by a revolution in
our nature, men could live and preserve their strength without allotting
every day some hours to repose and sleep, it is beyond doubt, that the
work of twenty hours would be required for the same wages now granted
for twelve.
Or, by an assimilation, agreeing with the hypothesis I have just
mentioned, suppose that a moral revolution permitted labourers to work
the seventh day, they would consequently, in a short time, require of
them the extraordinary labour at the former rate; and this levelling
would take place through the gradual diminution of the price of labour.
The class of society, which, in exerting its power, has regulated the
present wages, not according to reason and equity, but according to the
necessities of the labourers, would quickly discern its own interest;
and that when a day more was paid for, the people could bear a
diminution of the seventh part of their wages, and be in their old
state. Thus, though before the change had thoroughly taken place, all
those who live by labour would think that they had acquired a new
resource; yet they would soon be brought to their former condition; for
it is the same with social order as with the law of equilibrium in
nature, which combines ranks and places, every thing according to the
immutable law of the proportion of force.
Men, devoid of property, after having been some time deceived, would
only get an increase of work by the abolition of the Sabbath; and as
this truth does not present itself naturally to the mind, we ought to
consider, as an essential service of religion, its having secured the
greater number of men from a degree of oppression, to which they would
have run blindly, if they had been at liberty to make a choice.
The daily labour of one class of society surpasses the reasonable
measure of its strength, and hastens the days of decripitude; it was
then absolutely necessary that the customary course of these labours
should be, for a time, suspended; but as the people, pressed by wants of
every kind, are exposed to be seduced by the slightest appearance of
advantage, it was further necessary to their happiness, that the
interruption of thier fatigues, fixed by a religious duty, appeared not
to them the voluntary sacrifice of fortune, and did not leave in them
any regret. In short, they are pleased when they think of those days of
rest, which produce a little alteration in their manner of living; and
they require that alteration, not to be depressed by a continual train
and repetition of the same occupations. Thus, were you to assert
artfully, that the people are not as comfortable of a Sunday, as during
the week, it would be at least true, that one is softened by the
expectation of the other; there are people so very wretched, and
probably, on that account, so bounded are their desires, that the most
trifling variety is a substitute for hope. It seems to me, that the
hearts of the common people may be sometimes cheered with the thought of
being once a week dressed like their superiors; when they are absolute
masters of their time, and can say,—and I also—I am free[3].
I must now examine the second proposition which I have mentioned.