the explanations we wish to unfold; the chain of beings above us every
instant reminds us of this truth; and it appears singular, that
perceiving so distinctly the bounds of our senses, we should not be
induced to think, that our intelligence, apparently so extended, may
nevertheless run over a very circumscribed space. Our imagination goes
much farther than our knowledge, but its domain is perhaps only a point
in what is yet unexplored; and it is necessary to penetrate those
unknown regions, to discover the truths which illustrate the mysteries
that surround us; but there is a Being who knows them, Omniscience is at
the summit of those gradations of intelligence which we trace. We know
nothing, we do not discover any result but through the assistance of
experience and observation; and we only know the world by the little
front scene which meets our view: is it rational to suppose, that only
this kind of knowledge exists in the universe? Men, in the slow progress
of their judgment, resemble children; but even this condition recals the
idea of a father and a tutor. Every thing however shows us, that the
phœnomena of nature relate to a grand whole; we see that its dispersed
productions are united to some general cause; it is the same with human
knowledge; more admirable than the rays of light spread through
immensity, it is an emanation from the most perfect light. In short, if
space, if time itself, those two existences without bounds, are subject
to division, why should we not be induced to think, that the degrees of
knowledge we experience and conceive, are also only a part of a
universal intelligence?
Of all the objections against the idea of a God, the weakest, in my
opinion, is that drawn from the mixture of troubles and pleasures to
which human life is exposed. A God, some will say, ought to unite every
perfection, and we cannot believe in his existence, when we perceive
limits in his power or goodness.
This is a flimsy argument; for, if men do not admit as a proof of the
existence of a God, all that we discover of wisdom, harmony, and
intelligence in the universe, what right have they to use an apparent
contrast between sovereign power and goodness, in order to attribute the
formation of the world to chance. Would it be just, that the defects of
a work should be brought as a proof against the existence of a workman,
whilst the beauty of the same work was not allowed to support a contrary
opinion? We should reason in a different manner; disorder and
imperfection merely point out to us a negation of certain qualities; we
must, in general terms, throw an odium on the whole, in order to banish
the idea of an intelligent hand; whereas, to strengthen the other
opinion, it is sufficient that particular parts announce art and genius.
Thus, when we enter a palace, if we find there distinct marks of
talents, we attribute its erection to an architect, even though in a
part of the edifice we should not distinguish any traces of invention.
I have already had occasion to show how we are led to these
incomprehensible extremes, when we endeavour exactly to proportion the
wisdom and power of an Infinite Being, and I shall not again dwell on
this argument: or repeat that from any imaginable hypothesis, we might
draw this deduction, that Omnipotence could have produced more
happiness.
There are ideas which appear contrary to reason, only because we cannot
perceive them in one point of view; and we discover this truth, not only
in considering things which are foreign to our nature, but when we turn
our attention on the events which come daily under our inspection. Why
do we then suppose, that we can comprehend the most grand and noble
thoughts? Is it consistent with the idea of an Infinite Power that we
refuse to credit the existence of infinite goodness? Is it consistent
with the idea of Infinite Wisdom that we will not admit the existence of
Omnipotence? Nay more, is it consistent with the idea of infinite
chances that we imagine the absurd systems concerning the formation of
the world? We use infinity for every thing, except to place above us an
intelligence, whose properties and essence our reason cannot determine.
We are lost in a boundless uncertainty, when we try to go beyond the
limits of human powers. Thus, after having collected all the forces of
our souls, to enable us to penetrate the existence of a God, we ought
not to exhaust ourselves in subtleties, vainly endeavouring to conceive
in a just acceptation, and under evident relations, various attributes
of an Infinite Being, who has chosen to make himself known to us in a
certain measure, and under certain forms; and it is too much to require
of the worshippers of God, to defend themselves against those who
contest his existence, and dispute about the nature of his perfections.
I am far from supposing any obstacle to the execution of his will; but I
should be full of the same religious sentiments, if I knew that there
existed order and laws in the nature of things, which the Divine Power
has a faculty of modifying, and that it cannot entirely destroy. I
should not less adore the Supreme Being, if, at the same time, his
various attributes were in constant union, it was nevertheless, by
degrees, that he produced happiness; I should silently respect the
secrets which would escape my penetration, and wait with respectful
submission, till the clouds were dissipated which still surrounded me.
What then! always in ignorance and obscurity? Yes, always: such is the
condition of men, when they wish to go beyond the limits traced by the
immutable laws of nature; but the grand truths which we can easily
perceive are sufficient to regulate our conduct, and afford us comfort.
That there is a God, every thing indicates and loudly announces; but I
cannot discover either the mysteries of his essence, or the intimate
connection of his various perfections. I plainly see in a crowd the
monarch encircled by his guards; I know his laws, I enjoy the order he
has prescribed; but I assist not at his councils, and am a stranger to
his deliberations. I even perceive, that an impenetrable veil separates
me from the designs of the Supreme Being, and I do not undertake to
trace them; I commit myself with confidence to the protection of that
Being whom I believe good and great, as I would rely on the guidance of
a friend during a dark night; and whilst I have my foot in the abyss, I
will depend on Him to snatch me from the danger and calm my terrors.
If we might be allowed the comparison, we should say, that God is like
the sun, which we cannot stedfastly gaze at; but throwing our eyes down,
we perceive its rays and the beauties it spreads around. However, men
who, either through a mistrust of their understanding, or the nature of
it, have only by their reverence an intercourse with God, feel most
forcibly the impression of his grandeur; as it is at the extremity of
the lever that we strongly experience its power.
We consider the general assent of nations and ages, in the opinion of
the existence of a God, as a remarkable presumption in favour of that
opinion; but such a proof would lose part of its force, if we, in time,
regarded as a kind of moral phœnomenon, the relation which all men may
have with an idea so sublime, notwithstanding the visible disparity
which exists between their different degrees of understanding and
knowledge; and this observation should lead to a thought, that in the
midst of the clouds, which obscure the idea of a God, sensibility
becomes our best guide: it seems the most innate part of ourselves, and
in this respect to communicate, in the most intimate manner, with the
Author of our Nature.
The sight advances before our other senses, the imagination goes beyond
it; but as it is obliged to trace its own path, sensibility, which
bounds over all, goes still further.
The reasoner, in his efforts to attain to profound metaphysical truths,
forms a chain whose links rather follow each other, than are joined: the
mind of man not being sufficiently subtle, and extended, cannot always
unite exactly that infinite multitude of ideas which crowd at the
determination of our meditations; sensibility is then the best
calculated to conceive the sublime truth, which not being composed of
parts, is not susceptible of section, and can only be comprehended in
its unity. Thus, whilst the mind often wanders in vain speculations, and
loses itself in metaphysical labyrinths, the idea of a Supreme Being is
impressed, without effort, in a simple heart, which is still under the
influence of nature: thus, the man of feeling, as well as the
intelligent man, announces a Supreme Being, whom we cannot discover
without loving; and this union of all the faculties of the soul towards
the same idea, this emotion, which resembles a kind of instinct, ought
to be connected with a first cause; as there is for every thing a first
model.
It is, perhaps, also the confused sentiment of that first model, which
leads us to religion, when we see a virtuous man. Men, with their fatal
systems, would alter and annihilate every thing, but the comfortable
hopes and thoughts which arise from a profound and rational admiration,
will still resist that destruction. They vainly wish to make us consider
such a sentiment as the simple play of blind matter, whilst all within
us seems to invite us to search for a more noble origin. And how can we
avoid seeing, in these great qualities of men, nobleness of soul,
elevation of genius, expansion of heart, love of order, and interesting
goodness; how avoid seeing, in this rich picture, the reflection of a
celestial light, and concluding from it, that there is somewhere a first
intelligence. Do rays exist without a centre of light? I know not, but
hurried away by these reflections, I sometimes think, innate goodness,
which we admire as the first rank in the scale of intelligent beings, in
a more immediate manner, leads to the knowledge of the Author of nature;
and when this innate morality is found united in some persons with a
presentiment of the Divine Nature, there is, in this agreement, a charm
which impresses us; a kind of unknown character which attracts our
respect: as every tender and sublime thought is roused by the idea which
we form of the souls of Socrates and Fenelon.
At the same time, actuated by similar sentiments we experience a painful
emotion, when we are informed, that there exist men, enemies to all
these ideas; men, who had rather debase themselves and humanity, by
attributing their origin to chance, than resolve to consider the
spiritual faculties which they enjoy as a faint sketch of the sovereign
intelligence. Thus, instead of employing their minds to lend some force
to these comfortable truths, or, at least probabilities so dear, they,
on the contrary, dispute their realty, and seek to embarrass by
sophistry, the doctrines which tend to fortify the first dispositions of
our nature: we see the materialists, rather then elevate themselves,
drag us with them from happiness and hope; they only grant eternity to
the dust, out of which, they say, we sprung. What honour, however, can
they derive from those more enlightened views which they boast of, if
they are only the result of a growth similar to that of plants; and if
our spiritual faculties, so far from being lost, in some measure, in the
infinite intelligence, so far from being united to a grand destiny, are
only associated to this frail structure, which is every day, every hour,
exposed to various dangers. What credit should we derive from these
faculties, if they only enabled us to describe, with precision, the
almost imperceptible circle of time, in which we live and die: if they
only served to raise us above our equals during that short moment of
life, which is hastening to lose itself in endless ages, as a light
vapour in the immensity of air? How can you speak with delight of fame
and promotion, when you voluntarily renounce the grandeur arising from
the most noble origin? You are proud of the celebrity of your country,
the renown of your families, and the only glory you desire not partake,
is that which ennobles the whole human race!
In short, I would ask, by what strange error of the imagination it is,
that in meditating on the existence of a God, men do not go further than
to doubt it; since to support, to guide our judgment, we have only an
understanding whose weakness we continually experience; since it is
capable of gradual improvement, as knowledge is perpetually
accumulating? There exists not any proportion between the measure of our
knowledge and the unbounded extent which is displayed before us; there
is not any between the union of all our powers and the profound
mysteries of nature: how then shall we dare to say, that men are arrived
at the pinnacle of knowledge, and that in the endless ages to come,
there will never break forth a more penetrating faculty than our weak
reason?
However, were men even to lose the hope of advancing one step in
metaphysical researches; and persisted to declare insufficient and
imperfect the various proofs of the existence of a God; it is not to be
contested, that all other systems are surrounded with still greater
obscurity, and they would only have a doubt as the result of their
reasoning. But have they ever reflected on the influence a simple doubt
has, when that doubt is applied to an idea, whose relations are without
bounds? Let us try to represent an equal probability in a circumstance
which only concerns the interests of this transitory life, and we shall
soon see what force the same degree of probability would have in the
immensurable relations of the finite to the infinite. Thus, not only an
uncertainty, but the slightest presumption of the existence of a God,
would, in the estimation of sound reason, be a sufficient foundation for
religion and morality. Yes, we might thus humbly pray, though depressed
by doubt:—O Thou God who art unknown! sovereign goodness whose image is
stamped on our hearts—if Thou existest, if Thou art Lord of this
magnificent universe, deign to accept our love and humble homage.——
Undoubtedly, these thoughts are sufficient to inspire with respect and
fear beings ignorant of their origin, who have so little to sacrifice
and so much to desire, who, on account of their extreme weakness, cannot
relinquish some hopes, and must attach themselves to a fixed and
predominate idea, which may serve as an anchor in the midst of the
inconsistencies and agitations of their minds.
It is, perhaps, because the time when every thing will be explained, is
still far distant, that many exaggerate their doubts, and often confound
them with a decided incredulity. I form to my imagination, a solemn
period, when the inhabitants of the earth will be instructed in the
mysteries of their nature and the secrets of futurity; and that some
signal phœnomenon will mark the awful day proper to fix our attention;
and I am intimately persuaded, that, in such a moment, the men most
indifferent about religion will appear dismayed, and even recognize that
what they took for conviction, was but a wavering opinion, only
supported by self-love and a desire of distinction.
At the same time that I form this judgment of the pretended incredulity
of several persons, I will venture a reflection of a different kind: it
is, that superficial faith in the existence of God, and the opinions
which depend on it, is not equivalent in effect to doubt retained in
proper bounds; and perhaps, if these bounds were determined, the belief
of one class of society would be less wavering.
I anticipate another objection; those doubts, some may say, those doubts
which so many men cannot smother, are they not an argument against the
existence of a God? for a Powerful Being, such as we suppose Him, could
have inspired a general confidence in that noble truth; He needed not to
have recourse to supernatural means; His will was sufficient. I confess,
that we can easily add, in imagination, several degrees to our knowledge
and happiness; but that condition of our nature, of which the cause is
unknown, can never be contrary to the idea of the existence of a God:
all is limited in our physical properties and in our moral faculties;
but within these confines we see the work of a Supreme Intelligence, and
we discover every instant the traces of a divine hand, sufficiently
obvious to direct our opinions. Unstable reasoning, concerning what we
should be, can never weaken the distinct consequences which arise from
what we are.
When the Laplander, in his cave, hears by chance the distant echo of
thunder, he says, that _God still lives on the high mountain_; and, is
it in the very bosom of munificent blessings, with the light of
philosophy, that men would wish to reject the idea of the existence of a
Supreme Being? What an abuse of reason! Infinity ought to overwhelm the
most vigorous and enlightened understanding, make the wise man timid in
his judgment, and inform him what he is; can man do better than give way
to the admiration the view of so many incomprehensible wonders must
necessarily inspire, and with fervour seize that chain of miracles which
seem to promise to lead to the knowledge of the Creator of them? Can he
be more nobly employed, than in tracing an opinion, not only the most
probable, but the most grand and interesting? Alas! if we should ever
lose it—the idea is not to be endured; clouds and thick darkness would,
overwhelm the feelings which seem to dart before our reason, to explore
the unknown country we pant after, and a melancholy and eternal silence
would appear to surround all nature: we should call for a comforter,
implore protection—but where is it to be found? We should search for
hope, but it is for ever fled—Alas! this is not all, a terrific thought
strikes me, I hesitate a moment to communicate it; yet, it seems to me,
that we lend new force to religious opinions, when we demonstrate, by
various ways, that the principles which destroy those opinions lead to a
result contrary to our nature. I will then conclude this chapter by a
reflection of serious importance.
If there is not a God, if this world and the whole universe was only the
production of chance or nature itself, subsisting from all eternity; and
if this nature, void of consciousness, had not any guide or superior; in
short, if all its movements were the necessary effect of a property ever
concealed in its essence, a terrible thought would alarm our
imagination: we should not only renounce the hopes which enliven life,
we should not only see continually advancing towards us the image of
death and annihilation, these dreadful anticipations would not be all—an
uncertain cause of fear would trouble the mind. In fact, the revolutions
of a blind nature being more obscure than the designs of an Intelligent
Being, it would be impossible to discover on what base, in the universe,
reposed the destiny of men; impossible to foresee whether, by some one
of the laws of that imperious nature, intelligent beings are devoted to
perish irrevocably, or revive under some other form; if they are to
stumble on new pleasures, or suffer eternally: life and death, happiness
and misery, may belong indifferently to a nature whose movements are not
directed by any intelligence, are not connected by any moral idea, but
solely dependent on a blind property, which is represented by that word,
terrible and inexplicable _necessity_. A like nature would resemble the
rocks to which Prometheus was bound, that were equally insensible to the
agonizing groans of the wretch, and to the joy of the vultures who
preyed on his vitals.
Thus, in a like system, nothing would be able to fix our opinion with
respect to futurity, and guard the sensible part of ourselves from
yielding to some unknown force: in short, can we reply without
trembling? nothing,—and of course eternal torments might accidentally
become our portion.
The momentary experience of life might, perhaps, inspire us with a kind
of tranquillity; but what is that in immensity, but calculations founded
on the observance of a short interval? What is that hope which only a
fleeting moment gives weight to? It is as if the fluttering insect,
which lives but a day, should consider it as a representation of the
eternal condition of the universe. The mixture of pains and pleasures,
to which men are subject on earth, is not a certain proof of what may
happen in other times and places; for unity, equality, and analogy, all
those sources of probability, and principles to judge from, are
connected with general ideas of order and harmony, but those ideas are
not applicable to a nature subject to necessity.
We have some difficulty to assure ourselves of the designs of a Supreme
Being: however, by a kind of analogy we shall be able to form an idea of
the divine will; and our minds, our feelings, and virtues, all aid us in
the search; but were we sprung from an insensible nature, we should not
have any connection with the different parts of its immense extent, and
the attentive study of our moral constitution would not throw a light on
the various revolutions of which the material world is susceptible. We
should only discover, that there would be much less reason to oppose, in
imagination, limits to the varied movements of a nature without a guide,
than to circumscribe, in some manner, the actions of an Omnipotent
Being, whose other attributes are also infinite; for the ideas of order,
justice, and goodness, which arise from a knowledge of His perfections,
seem to trace a circle in the midst of infinity, which the mind of man
may perceive. Yes, these ideas subject a great space to our
contemplations; but what advantage is there in trying to be acquainted
with the mysteries of an insensible nature, or to penetrate the secret
of the motion impressed by blind necessity?
Let me repeat it then, as a termination to these reflections; all would
be obscure, all mere chance in the fate of man, if we did not attribute
the disposition and preservation of the world to the omnipotent will of
an Intelligent Being, whose perfections our feelings and thoughts
faintly represent.
In short, when even in the system of the eternity of nature, men were
assured that death destroys individuality, and were they even able to
drive away the idea of the continuation or renewal of it, by any
sentiment or remembrance; would it be evident, that we should be
absolutely indifferent about the torments rational beings may endure in
that space which is represented by the idea of infinity and eternity?
The metaphysical idea, which determines us to place our consciousness on
that imperceptible and mysterious point, which unites our present
thoughts to the past, and our actual sentiments to our hopes and fears;
this thought is not sufficient to make us regardless of our fate, or
render us indifferent to the unknown effects which may result from the
revolutions of a nature, which we are not acquainted with: the anxieties
and troubles of the beings who are to live in the ages yet unborn, do
not interest us as belonging to any particular person; however, we have,
for those abstract misfortunes, in this instance, a sympathy which
escapes reasoning.
I agree, that in the system of undirected nature, happiness or misery,
transitory or without end, have the same degree of probability: but what
a terrifying resemblance! Can we undismayed consider such a chance?