the simple actions only strike us; and the different motives they result
from, the emotions, the conflicts which accompany them, and the regret,
the repentance, which follow them, all these essential characteristics
escape our penetration: thus religion, always wise, always benevolent in
its counsels, forbids our forming hasty and precipitate judgments; and
we cannot read, without emotion, that lesson of indulgence so mildly
addressed to the crowd which surrounded the woman taken in adultery, _he
that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her_. But
how resist being affected by admiration, when we see religion so warmly
employed about the fate of those whom the suspicions or false
accusations of men have dragged before their tribunals? by declaring
that it is better to let a hundred culprits escape punishment, than run
the risk of condemning a single person unjustly. This tender anxiety
corresponds with every sentiment of our hearts. Innocence delivered to
infamy, innocence encompassed with all the horrors of an execution, is
the most dreadful sight that the imagination can present; and we are so
struck by it, that we should be almost disposed to think, that before
the Supreme Being the whole human race is responsible for such a crime:
yes, it is under Thy protection, O my God, that unknown virtue and
injured innocence take shelter; men turn towards Thee for comfort when
pursued by men, and it is not in vain that they trust in that awful day
when all shall be judged before Thee.
I wish only to dwell on the particular character of the Christian
religion, as it proportions the merit of our actions, not to the
grandeur or importance of them; but to the relation that they have with
our abilities, it is an idea absolutely new: this system, which presents
the same motives and rewards to the weak and strong, remarked the
widow’s mite, as well as the generous sacrifices of opulence; this
system, as just as rational, animates, in some measure, our whole moral
nature, and seems to inform us, that a vast circle of good actions and
social virtues are submitted to the same rules, as the immense domain of
physical nature, in which the simplest flower, or the most insignificant
plant, concurs to perfect the designs of the Supreme Being, and composes
one part of the harmonious universe.
The superintendance of the Christian religion extends still further than
I can point out; and guided by a spirit not to be equalled, it estimates
our intentions, obscure dispositions, and internal determinations, often
separated from action by different obstacles: it directs men, in some
measure, from their first sentiments and designs; it continually reminds
them of the presence of God; warns them to watch over themselves, when
their inclinations are but dawning, before they have gained strength; in
short, at an early hour it forms the mind to the exercise of virtue, by
discriminating virtue and vice, and reminding us to cultivate a love of
order and propriety before the active scenes of life force those
sentiments to appear conspicuously displayed in actions.
But the more the methods of meriting the divine approbation are
multiplied, the more essential is it that our confidence should not be
depressed, every instant, by the sentiment which arises from the
experience of our errors; it is necessary, that at the moments, too
frequent, when the chain which unites us to the Supreme Being would
escape from our grasp, the hope of again seizing it should remain with
us: it is then to succour our weak faith, that we see in the gospel that
idea at once so excellent and new, that of repentance and the promises
which are annexed to it. This noble idea, absolutely belonging to
Christianity, prevents our relation with the Deity from being destroyed
as soon as it is perceived; the culprit may still hope for the favour of
God, and after contrition confide in Him. Human nature, that singular
connexion of the spirit with matter, of strength with weakness, of
reason with the imagination, persuasion with doubt, and will with
uncertainty, necessarily requires a legislation appropriated to a
constitution so extraordinary: man, in his most improved state,
resembles an infant, who attempts to walk, and falls, rises and falls
again; and he would soon be lost to morality, if, after his first fault,
he had not any hope of repairing it; under a similar point of view, the
idea of repentance is one of the most philosophical which the gospel
contains.
That pressing recommendation to do good in secret, without ostentation,
is the result of a salutary and profound thought: the legislator of our
religion undoubtedly had perceived that the praises of men was not a
basis sufficiently steady to serve for the support of morality; and he
discerned, that vanity, allowed to enjoy these kind of triumphs, was too
dissipated to be a faithful guide; but the most important part of that
precept is, that morality would be very circumscribed, if men only
adhered to those just actions which all the world might see; there are
not many opportunities to do good in public, and the whole of life may
be filled by unseen virtues: in short, from that continual relation with
our conscience, a relation instituted by religion, there results an
inestimable benefit; for it is easy to perceive, that if we have within
us a clear-sighted and severe judge, this same judge turns consoler and
friend every time that we are unjustly condemned, or when events do not
answer according to the purity of our intentions; and we believe then
that we have almost two souls, one aiding and sustaining the other on
every occasion in which virtue unites them.
The severe censure of superstition, which we find throughout the gospel,
is derived from an idea as reasonable as enlightened; men are too much
disposed to make their religion consist of little exterior practices,
always easier than the conflicts with and triumphs over the passions:
our minds seize with avidity every extraordinary idea; when they are in
part of our own creating, they aid our self-love to subjugate our
imagination; man is not at the age of maturity terrified by those
phantoms which annoy his infancy; but mysteries, occult causes,
extraordinary appearances, continue to make an impression on his mind;
and like the wonders of nature, form too large a circle round his
thoughts; it is by ideas more proportioned to his strength, by mere
superstition, that he permits himself often to be led captive: we love
trivial commands, observances, and scruples, because we are little
ourselves, and that in our weakness we would wish to know every instant
the limits of our obligations.
Sometimes, persons terrified by their imaginations, or by the confused
picture which they form of the duties of religion, attach themselves to
superstitious practices as a safeguard near at hand which may quickly
guard them from the different anxieties of their minds. The precepts of
the gospel are designed to destroy these dispositions; for on one side,
they facilitate the study of morality, by reducing to simple principles
the entire system of our duties; and on the other, they seek to render
our intercourse with the Supreme Being more easy, by teaching us that we
may unite ourselves to Him by the expansion of a pure mind; by informing
us, that it is not either on Mount Sion or Gerizim that we are to raise
an altar; but that every honest heart is a temple, where the eternal is
adored _in spirit and in truth_. The Christian religion is the only one
which, discarding ceremonies and superstitious opinions, leads us to the
worship more consonant to our nature: Christianity indeed, in that grand
thought, has pointed out the dictates of our conscience as most worthy
of respect; benevolence, as the worship most agreeable to the Supreme
Being, and all our moral conduct as the most certain prognostic of our
future state. There reigns a profound philosophy in the doctrines of the
gospel, men have only added a vain pageantry, a more sounding tone.
Let us render homage to Christianity, for that sacred tie which it has
formed, in uniting not for a moment, but for the whole of life, the fate
of two beings, one having need of support, and the other of comfort: it
is religion which refines this alliance by rendering it immutable, and
obliges men not to sacrifice to the caprices of their imaginations the
unity and confidence which secures the repose of families, order in the
disposition of fortunes, the peaceable education of the succeeding
generation, and which, in giving to children, for an example, a union
formed by fidelity and duty, implants in their hearts the seeds of the
most important virtues; religion has taught us, that the friendships of
a world, in which selfishness reigns, have need of being cemented by
that community of interests and honours which marriage only gives us an
idea of; holy union, alliance without equal, which renders still more
valuable all the blessings of life, which seems to augment our hopes,
and fortify in us the comfortable thoughts and mild confidence which
piety gives birth to: the engagements entered into between men, which
being, for the most part, sounded on reciprocal services, a time might
come, when our weakness would be so great, others having no more
interest to associate with us, it might be necessary to find a support
in that friendship which time has matured, and of which a sentiment of
duty repairs the breaches, and which acquires a kind of sanctity from
the habit and the remembrance of a long and happy union: it is religion
in, short, which has ordained, that the delicate virtue, the most
excellent ornament of a weak and timid sex, should only be subject to
the ascendency of the most generous and faithful sentiment.
These principles, indeed, are not formed for corrupt hearts; but the
service which religion renders, the end which it proposes, is to assist
us to combat our depraved dispositions; it is to point out the errors
and the snares of vice; it is to preserve, amongst us, the sacred
deposit of principles, which are the foundation of public order, and
still maintain some light to illuminate the path of wisdom and true
happiness.
Religion recals us continually to those universal duties which we
describe under the name of good morals; duties that men would often
inconsiderately wish to separate from public interest, but which,
however, are bound to it by so many almost imperceptible and secret
ties. Every act of wisdom and virtue is not of immediate importance to
society; but morality must be cultivated by degrees, and fortified by
habit, as it is like those delicate plants which we rear with a kind of
fondness to preserve their beauty; if we make a distinction between
personal, domestic, and public manners, in order to neglect, as we find
convenient, one part of our duty, we shall lose the charm of it, and
every day virtue will appear more difficult.
There is, I think, a connexion, more or less apparent, between every
thing good and worthy of esteem; and it seems to me, that this idea has
something amiable, which confusedly satisfies our most generous
dispositions and most comfortable hopes: and if, to sustain a truth so
important, I was permitted to interrogate the young man, whose virtues
and talents are the most remarkable in Europe, I should ask him, if he
did not experience that his filial tenderness, the regularity of his
domestic life, the purity of his thoughts, and all his rare private
qualities, are not united to the noble sentiments which make him appear
with so much splendour as a statesman? But without dwelling on such
instances, who has not been sometimes struck with the beauty attached to
that simplicity and modesty of manners which we often find in an obscure
situation? We then manifestly discover, that there exists a kind of
agreement and dignity, I could almost say, a kind of grandeur,
independent of refined language, polished manners, and all those
advantages due to birth, to rank, and fortune.
I have only glanced over the benefits arising from the Christian
religion; but I cannot avoid observing, that we owe to it a consoling
idea, that of the felicity reserved for innocent babes; interesting and
precious hope for those tender mothers, who see slip from their embraces
the objects of their love, at an age when they have not acquired any
merit before the Supreme Being, whom they cannot have any relation with,
but through His infinite goodness. I feel that I involuntarily mix with
the elogiums of Christianity a sentiment of gratitude for the mild and
paternal ideas which are disseminated with its instructions; and there
is something remarkable in those instructions, that they are continually
animated by every thing which can captivate our imagination, and
associate with our natural inclinations. Sensibility, happiness, and
hope, are the strongest ties of a heart still pure; and all the emotions
which elevate towards the idea of a God exalt in our minds the doctrine
of morality, which recals us continually to the sublime perfections of
Him who was its author.
In short, we cannot avoid admiring the spirit of moderation, which forms
one of the distinct characteristics of the gospel; we do not always
find, it is true, the same spirit in the interpreters of the Christian
doctrines; several constrained by a false zeal, and more disposed to
speak in the name of a threatening master, than in that of a God, full
of wisdom and goodness, have frequently exaggerated and multiplied the
duties of men; and to support their system, they have often obscured the
natural sense, or the general import of the precepts contained in the
scriptures; and sometimes also, collecting a few scattered words, they
have formed a body of divinity, foreign in several respects to the
intention of the apostles and first Christians. Servants always go
further than their masters; and as the first thought does not belong to
them, they only act by adding something heterogeneous: the spirit of
moderation consists, beside, in a kind of proportion, which mere
imitators have only an imperfect knowledge of; fortitude is even
necessary to impose limits on virtue itself; and to determine the
precise and exact measure of the multiplied duties of men requires a
profound and sublime intelligence. It was by his sublime precepts that
the institutor of a universal morality shewed himself superior to that
age of ignorance in which extremes reigned; when piety was changed into
superstition, justice into rigour, indulgence into weakness; and when,
in the exaggeration of every sentiment, a kind of merit was sought for
incompatible with the immutable laws of wisdom: it was by those sublime
precepts, in short, that a legislator rose above transitory opinions to
command all times and ages, and that he appears to have been desirous to
adapt his instructions, not to the instantaneous humour of a people, but
to the nature of man.
We shall, beside, find easily in the gospel several characteristics
proper, essentially to distinguish it from philosophic doctrines; but in
an examination so serious and important I avoid every observation which
might appear to the greater number a simple research of the
understanding; it is the grand features only which belong to grand
things, and any other manner would not agree with a subject so worthy of
our respect. I must say, however, that when I am left alone to reflect
with attention on the different parts of the gospel, I have experienced,
that, independent of general ideas and particular precepts which lead us
every instant to profound admiration, there reigns, beside, in the whole
of that sublime morality, a spirit of goodness, of truth, and wisdom, of
which all the characters can only be perceived by our sensibility, by
that faculty of our nature which does not separate objects, which does
not wait to define; but which penetrates, as by a kind of instinct,
almost to that love, the origin of every thing, and that indefinite
model from which every generous intention and grand thought has taken
its first form.
CHAP. XVIII.
_Conclusion._
What a time have I chosen to entertain the world with morality and
religion! and what a theatre is this for such an undertaking! Only to
conceive it is a great proof of courage; every one is employed about his
harvest; lives in his affairs; is lost in the present instant, all the
rest appears chimerical. When I was formerly engrossed by cares for the
public welfare, and writing on my favourite subject, I could draw the
attention of men by a series of reflections on their own fortunes and on
the power of their country; it was in the name of their most ardent
passions that I engaged them to listen to me; but in treating the
subject I have now made choice of, it is their natural dispositions, now
almost effaced, that I must address: thus I feel the necessity of
re-animating the sentiments which I wish to direct, and giving birth to
the interest I desire to enlighten. And when I fix my attention on the
actual course of opinions, I fear to have for judges, either men who are
indifferent to the subject, or who are too severe in their censurers;
but the reflections of vanity are trivial to the motives which have
guided me; and provided any of my thoughts have agreed with the
inclinations of feeling minds, and added something to their happiness, I
shall enjoy the sweetest reward. Such a wish I formed, when, with a weak
hand, I ventured to trace some reflections on the importance of
religious opinions.
The more we know of the world, its phantoms, and vain enchantments, the
more do we feel the want of a grand idea to elevate the soul above
discouraging events which continually occur. When we run after honours,
fame, and gratitude, we find every where illusions and mistakes; and it
is our lot to experience those disappointments which proceed from the
infirmities or the passions of men. If we leave our vessel in the
harbour, the success of others dazzles and disturbs us; if we spread our
sails, we are the plaything of the winds: activity in action, ardour,
and indifference, all have their cares and difficulties; no person is
sheltered from the caprices of fortune, and when we have reached the
summit of our wishes, when we have by chance attained the object of our
ambition, sadness and languor are preparing to frustrate our hopes, and
dissipate the enchantment: nothing is perfect except for a moment;
nothing is durable but change; it is necessary then to have interest in
with those immutable ideas which are not the work of man, which do not
depend on a transient opinion: they are offered to all, and are equally
useful in the moment of triumph and the day of defeat; they are, as we
need them, our consolation, our encouragement, and our guide. What
strength, what splendour, those ideas would soon have, if, considered as
the best support of order and morality, men would try to render them
more efficacious, in the same manner as we see the citizens of a
political society concur, in proportion to their faculties, to promote
the welfare of the state. A new scene would open before us; men of
learning, far from following the counsels of vanity, far from searching
to destroy the most salutary belief of men, would, on the contrary,
allot for their defence a portion of their noblest powers; we should see
the penetrating metaphysician eager to refer to the common treasure of
our hopes, the light which he perceives through the continuity of his
meditations, and the perspicacity of his mind: we should see the
attentive observer of nature occupied with the same idea, animated by
the same interest; we should see him, in the midst of his labours, seize
with avidity every thing which could add any support to the first
principle of all religions; we should see him detach from his
discoveries, appropriate, with a kind of love, all that tended to
strengthen the happiest persuasion and most sublime of thoughts. The
profound moralist, the philosophic legislator, would concur in the same
design; and in such a grand enterprize, men, merely endowed with an
ardent imagination, would be like those wanderers, who, when they return
home, talk of some unknown riches. There are ways in the moral, as well
as in the physical world, which lead to unknown secrets; and the harvest
which may be gathered in the vast empire of nature is as extensive as
diversified. How excellent would be the union of every mind towards this
magnificent end! In this view, I represent sometimes to myself, with
respect, a society of men distinguished by their character and genius,
only employed to receive and place in order the ideas proper to augment
our confidence in the most precious opinion. There are thoughts
conceived by solitary men which are lost to mankind, because they have
not had the talent to connect a system; and if those thoughts were to be
united to some other knowledge, if they were to come like a grain of
sand, to strengthen the banks raised on our shore, the following
generations would transmit a richer heritage. We sometimes register with
pomp a new word, introduced into the language, and men of the most
exalted genius of the age are called to be present at that ceremony:
would it not be a more noble enterprize to examine, to choose, and
consecrate the ideas or observations proper to enlighten us in our most
essential researches? One of those researches would better deserve a
wreath, than any work of eloquence or literature.