Chapter III: Part 3

If then, after having taken a view of the lowest, I observe those who compose the superior class, I will venture a reflection of a very different kind; that in a country where we have the hope of obtaining the most splendid marks of distinction, and where fame has power to raise heroes, great ministers, and men of genius in every profession, we do not find that the duties of private life are best known and the most respected. Men, uniting to celebrate with ardour great talents and actions, consider with more indifference the morals and manners of individuals; they make an ideal beauty, composed of every thing which contributes to the celebrity of their country and the honour of their nation; but by accustoming themselves to refer every thing to these interests, they become extremely negligent with respect to common virtues, and sometimes they even decide, that the rare qualities of the mind may absolutely dispense with them. Besides, if fame can serve to reward the most assiduous labour and painful self-denial, it is far from being necessary, that moderate sentiments of esteem should indemnify those who obtain them for the sacrifice of their passions; it does not follow, that this sentiment should give them strength to resist the multiplied seductions that the hopes of ambition and the chances of fortune present to our view; and this consideration acquires more force in a kingdom, where, among the distinctions of which the favour of the prince is the origin, there are some which attract so much homage, that they resemble fame itself.

In short, and what I am going to say comprehends, in a general manner, the various questions which I have just treated: the esteem of men, even when this sentiment seems the most foreign to religion, receives, nevertheless, from it its principal strength, and even origin; it is a reflection of great importance, and of which I will endeavour to demonstrate the truth.

We ought, at first, to ask what is the original principle of society, which gives weight to the various expressions of the sentiment of esteem: we shall find, undoubtedly, that it is a distinct idea of the duties of men, a notion of good morals, as general as firm. Now the duties of life cannot be fulfilled without the assistance of religion, since the connexion of private and public interest, the only foundation of the virtues of our framing, is, as we have demonstrated an imperfect system, and susceptible of a multitude of exceptions, or arbitrary interpretations. It is necessary then that our social obligations should be fixed in an authentic manner, if we wish that our judgment and the sentiments which we adopt should be a real indication of the relation the conduct of men has with moral perfection; but, if this perfection was only determined by human conventions, if it was despoiled of the majesty which religion invests it with, reputation, and sentiments of esteem, which are the pledge and stamp of good morals, would insensibly lose their value; we should then recollect that coin, which some vainly wished to preserve the current value of in commerce, after having materially altered either the weight or the standard; and, in effect, to follow the simile a moment longer, how could we alter the essence of morality more, and lessen the respect which is due to it, than by separating it from the sublime motives which religion presents, to unite it only to political considerations.

One objection I ought to obviate: it may be said, perhaps, that the influence of honour in the army, seems to be a proof that reputation, without the aid of any other impulse, would have sufficient influence to direct the mind to the end which we propose to ourselves. This objection does not appear to me decisive: honour in armies preserves a great ascendency, because amongst men thus assembled, it is impossible to escape shame, and the punishment incurred by cowardice; it is in war that the power of authority and that of fame unite all their forces, because that they exercise their influence on men engaged in one action, actuated by the same spirit, by that singular subordination, termed discipline. Thus, when in the commencement of the Roman republic, the army participated more of the air of the city, and was not yet familiarized to the military yoke, it was then only through the sanction of an oath, supported by religious sentiments, that the general contrived to prevent the inconstancy and defection of those who followed him to the camp. Whatever then may be at present, the power of honour in armies, whatever at present may be its influence in the field of battle, where the actors, spectators, and judges, are on the same stage, and have nothing else to do but to practise, remark, and praise a particular virtue, we should not be able to draw any deduction from it, applicable to the social relations, whose extent is immense, and to whose diversity there is no bound. Besides, military honour is very far from being foreign to the general principles of morality, and consequently to religious opinions, the most solid support of those principles; for sentiments which contain, in some manner, the idea of a noble sacrifice, would lose great part of their force, if the great basis of our duty was ever shaken.

A perfect model is necessary to fix the admiration of men; and it is only by an intercourse more or less constant with that first model, that several opinions which seem, in appearance, to arise merely from convenience have consistency.

However, there has resulted from our warlike customs an opinion purely social, which is very powerful: it is that of the point of honour, when we consider it in its singular and simple acceptation, when a man is ready to sacrifice his life to guard himself from the slightest humiliation. This opinion, it is true, only dictates its rules among equals, and the exercise of its authority extends to an inconsiderable part of a nation, which, wholly given up to worldly concerns, are occupied entirely with comparisons and distinctions; it is one of the ancient appendages of military honour, and in uniting all its force towards a single idea it is become a simple principle, which has been blindly transmitted and as blindly respected.

It is by the effect of a similar habit that savages affix all their glory to a contempt of bodily pain, and to demonstrations of gaiety, in the midst of the most cruel torments. Can we doubt, that their supernatural exultation would not be weakened, at the very instant they were acquainted with our most common ideas of virtue? likewise our notions of honour, which, in its exaggerated state, resembles their death songs, would not resist metaphysical arguments, if ever metaphysics became our sole guide in morality; for after having analyzed the motives of our most important obligations, we should analyze also our fine-spun sentiment, which makes us regardless of danger. Yes, if respect for religion was absolutely destroyed; if this simple opinion, which carries with it so many obligations, and serves to defend so many duties, had no other support, the idea of honour would soon be weakened; and our personal interest, insensibly disengaged from all the ties of the imagination, would take a character so rude, and so determined, that our habitual impressions, and our relation with others, would be absolutely changed.

Permit me then to make another reflection: it will be always easy to subject men to a governing opinion, when they themselves, and those who govern them, unite al their efforts to attain the same end; but, if this governing opinion is not, like religion, the general principle of our conduct; if it cannot give us laws in the different situations of life, it would serve only to throw us out of an equilibrium, or at least its utility would be partial and momentary· Nevertheless, if, with a design of remedying this inconvenience, we searched to multiply these opinions, they would weaken each other; for every time we wish strongly to restrain the imagination, it is necessary that a single idea, a single authority, a single object of interest, should engage the attention of men. Perfection, in this respect, is the choice of a single principle, whose consequence extends to all; and such is the particular merit of religious opinions.

We can then, in the name of reason, of policy, and philosophy, demand some respect for them; and I ought to repeat, since it is time for me to resume my subject, that esteem or contempt, honour or shame, are so far from being able to supply the place of the active influence of religion, that its sentiments confirm the opinion of the world, and, more or less, obviously direct it. It follows, that we should soon reason shrewdly, on the value which we ought to set on the esteem of the world, if the expression of its approbation was not united in our contemplation to something more noble than the judgment of mankind, and if an awful respect for virtue was not imbibed by means of a religious education. We should soon experience that, in wishing to found every thing on the calculations of worldly wisdom, these same calculations would destroy all; and morality having at once lost its grand support, we should try in vain to prop it by a scaffold of laws, and the vain efforts of an opinion without a guide. Hypocrisy and dissimulation would become immediately a necessary science, a legitimate defence, which would weary the attention of every inspector; and testimonies of esteem appearing only an ingenious encouragement granted to the sacrifices of selfishness, the applause decreed to a generous mode of conduct would be insensibly discredited by those who gave and by those who received them, and would end, perhaps, in becoming a secret object of derision, as mere play from one to another.

Every thing is replaced and firmly established by religion; it surrounds, I may say, the whole system of morality, resembling that universal and mysterious force of physical nature, which retains the planets in their orbits, and subjects them to a regular revolution; and which, in the midst of the general order it maintains, escapes the observation of men, and appears to their feeble sight unconscious of its own work.

CHAP. III.
_An Objection drawn from our natural Dispositions to Goodness._

Men, according to the opinion of some, have received from nature a secret tendency towards every thing just, good, and virtuous; and from this happy inclination, the task of the moralist is confined to prevent the alteration of our original constitution: an easy task, add they, and which may be fulfilled without any extraordinary effort, and without having recourse to religion.

We ought, at first, to observe, that the existence of this excellent innate goodness has been a long time a subject of debate, as every assertion always will be, of which we cannot demonstrate the truth, either by argument or experience. We shall never be able to perceive distinctly the natural dispositions of men, since, to our view, they are never separated from the improvement, or the modification, which they owe to education and habit. One or two examples they produce of children arrived at maturity found in a forest; but we are ignorant at what precise age they were abandoned by their parents, and what might have been their dispositions, if, brought back to society, they had not been guided by instruction, or restrained by fear and subordination. It is not very probable, that man derived from his original nature all the dispositions which lead to goodness; such a thought agrees not with his pride or dignity, since the intellectual faculties with which he is endowed, the power he has of gradually tending to perfection, announce to him that he ought to fulfil his career with the assistance of reason, and that, very different from those beings governed by an invariable instinct, he should elevate himself as much above them, by cultivating the abilities entrusted to him, as by the granduer of the destiny to which he is permitted to aspire.

Reason, however, our faithful guide, would be insufficient to attach us to sentiments of order, justice, and beneficence, if it was not seconded by a nature proper to receive the impression of every noble sentiment; but such reflections, far from favouring any system of independence or impiety, receive from religious opinions their principal force. What is, in effect, in this respect the course of our thoughts? We attribute, at first, to a Supreme and Universal Being all the perfections which seem to constitute his essence; and from this principle we are led to presume, that we, his intelligent creatures, and his most noble work, participate, in some manner, of the Divine spirit, of which we are an emanation: but, if we could ever be persuaded, that our confidence in the idea of a God is a deceitful illusion, we should not have any reason to believe that the mere child of nature, blind and without a guide, would be disposed to good, rather than evil. We must derive our opinion of innate goodness from a secret sentiment, and from a perfect conviction of the existence of a power which keeps every thing in order, the model of all perfection: but, as we obtain equally from this power, the faculties which render us capable of acquiring knowledge, of improving by experience, of extending our views into futurity, and elevating our thoughts to God; we should not know how to distinguish these last expedients of ability and virtue from those which belong to our first instinct; and we have no interest in doing it.

That which we perceive most clearly is, that there is a correspondence, a harmony between all the parts of our moral nature; and therefore we cannot deny the existence of our natural inclination towards goodness, nor consider this inclination as a disposition which has not need of any religious sentiment to acquire strength, and become a rational conductor through the rough road of life. The production of salutary fruits requires, before all things, a favourable soil; but this advantage would be useless without seed and the labour of the husbandman, and the fertilizing warmth of the sun: the Author of Nature has thought fit that a great number of causes should concur continually to renovate the productions of the earth; and the same intention, the same plan, seems to have determined the principle and the developement of all the gifts of the mind: it is necessary, in order to attach intelligent beings to the love of virtue, and respect for morality, that not only happy natural dispositions, but still more, a judicious education, good laws, and, above all, a continual intercourse with the Supreme Being, from which alone can arise firm resolutions, and every ardent thought, should concur; but men ambitious of submitting a great number of relations to their weak comprehension, would wish to confine them to a few causes. We shall discover, every moment, the truth of this observation; actuated by a similar motive, many wish to attribute every thing to education; whilst others pretend, that our natural dispositions are the only source of our actions and intentions, of our vices and virtues. Perhaps, in fact, there is, in the universe, but one expedient and spring, one prolific idea, the root of every other: yet, as it is at the origin of this idea, and not in its innumerable developements, that its unity can be perceived, the first grand disposer of nature: only ought to be in possession of the secret; and we, who see, of the immense mechanism of the world, but a few wheels, become almost ridiculous, when we make choice sometimes of one, and sometimes of another, to refer to it exclusively, the cause of motion, and the simplest properties of the different parts of the natural or moral world.

CHAP. IV.
_An Objection drawn from the good Conduct of many irreligious Men._

You may think, perhaps, after having read the preceding chapter, that I have taken little room to treat a question on which so much has been written; but if it be allowed that I have made some approaches to truth, I shall not need any excuse. The researches after truth resemble those circles which we trace sometimes one round another; the furthest from the centre has necessarily the greatest extent.

I will then endeavour, with the same brevity, to examine the objection which is to make the subject of this chapter.

Society, some say, is at present filled with persons, who, to borrow the expression of the times, are absolutely disengaged from every kind of prejudice, who believe not even the existence of a Supreme Being; and yet, their conduct appears as regular as that of the most religious men.

Before replying to this objection I ought to make an important observation. The detractors of a religious spirit habitually confound, in their discourse, devotion and piety; they attribute besides to devotion an exaggerated sense, which its natural definition will not bear; and derive from this misconception a great advantage. Piety, simple in its sentiments and deportment, commonly escapes the heedless glance of a man of the world; and the greater part of those who speak of it, would have some difficulty to delineate it well; devotion, on the contrary, such as we are accustomed to represent, seems to attach some value to appearances; it displays itself, it makes a parade of the austerity of its principles; and often soured by the sacrifices, of the constraint, which it has imposed on itself as a law, it contracts a rough and inflexible spirit, which banishes sentiment, amiable and indulgent: in short, devotion is sometimes mixed with hypocrisy, and then it is only a despicable assemblage of the most contemptible vices. It is easy to judge, from these two pictures, that judicious piety, rational and indulgent, forms the true characteristic of a religious spirit, considered in its purity. It is then with morality, inspired by a like spirit, that it is necessary to compare those men, who are guided only by the principles they frame to themselves; and I believe, that one of these two systems of morality is far superior to the other; but we run a risk of deceiving ourselves in our observations, when we do not extend them beyond the narrow circle, known amongst us by the name of _society_. Men, in the circumscribed relations which arise from the communications of idleness and dissipation, require of each other, only qualities applicable to these kind of relations; their code of laws is very short, integrity in the commerce of life, constancy in friendship, or, at least, politeness in our intercourse, a kind of elevation in their discourse and manner; in short, probity is the grand outline; and this is all that is required, in order to display ourselves to the best advantage in the midst of the active scenes which surround us, where we sometimes form a confederacy proper to serve as a support of the great virtues; but what they wish for before every thing is, a grant of indulgence in favour of vices, which do not disturb the order or the peace of their pleasures, and which only render unhappy parents, husbands, and creditors, vassals and the commonalty. Far distant, indeed, from a like tolerance, are those collective obligations which morality dictates, obligations, of which I made a concise sketch, when I compared them with those which are imposed by civil laws. It is then only, after having retraced ourselves the entire system of our duties, it is only after having compared them with the conventions softened by fashionable society, that we are in a state to judge, if the conduct of persons, disengaged from every religious tie, ought to be given as an example, and if their morality can suffice for all the circumstances of life.

But in admitting, for a moment, this supposition, we should not have a right to draw any deduction contrary to the truths, which I have endeavoured to establish; for all those who free themselves at a certain age, from the yoke of religion, have been at least prepared by it to respect virtue. Principles inculcated early in life, have a great influence on the human heart, a long time even after our understanding has rejected the reasoning which served as the basis of those principles: the soul, formed when the reason begins to dawn, to the love of order, and sustained in this disposition by the force of habit, never entirely loses this principle. So that, whatever be the opinions adopted when the judgment is formed, it is slowly, and by degrees, that these opinions act on the character and direct the conduct. Besides, while religion maintains amongst the greater number of men, a profound respect for morality, those who reject these sentiments know, nevertheless, that probity leads to esteem, and to the various advantages which depend on it. Of course, a virtuous atheist merely makes us recollect, that he lives where virtue is respected; and it is not the inefficacy, but, on the contrary, the indirect influence of religious opinions, which his conduct demonstrates to me. I think I see, in a beautiful piece of mechanism, a small part broken off from the chain, and which maintains its place, by the force still subsisting of general equilibrium.

What! would you have need of religion to be an honest man? Here is an interrogative, with which they hope to embarrass those who wish to preserve to morality its best support; and the dread that some have of not giving an honourable idea of their sentiments, induces them to reply with quickness, that certainly they should not need the check of religion, and that the dictates of their heart would always be sufficient to direct them. This answer is undoubtedly very respectable; but for my part, I avow, I should merely say, that virtue has so many charms, when it has been a long time practised, that a truly sensible man would continue to be just, even when every religious sentiment was annihilated; but that it is uncertain whether, with a political education, his principles might have been the same; and I should add further, that no one, perhaps, could be certain, that he would have sufficient strength to resist a revolution of ideas similar to those that we have just supposed, were he to fall at the same time into a state of misery and dejection, which would make him revolt at the enjoyments and the triumphs of others. It is always in a like situation, that it is necessary to place ourselves, to judge properly of certain questions; for all those who enjoy the favours of fortune, have, in consequence of this fortunate condition, fewer objects of envy, and are less subject to temptations; and in the midst of the different comforts, which peaceably surround them, it is not the principles of others of which they know the want.

As for philosophical writers, if it were amongst them, that we are to search for the principal defenders of the new opinions, and if, at the same time, their moral conduct was cited as an example, we should have to observe, that a retired life, love of study, and a constant habit of reflection, ought to spread a kind of calm over their sentiments; besides, delivered up to abstraction, or preoccupied by general ideas, they know not all the passions, and they are seldom personally engaged in those ardent pursuits which stimulate society. They cannot then determine, with certainty, what would have been the degree of their resisting force, if without any other defensive arms than their principles, and no guide but convenience, they had to combat against the allurements of fortune and ambition, which present themselves in every step of our worldly career. They have also, like all the inventors and the propagators of a new system, vanity, which engages them to multiply the number of their disciples: and how, in fact, could they be able to flatter themselves with any success, if, in attacking the most respectable opinions, they had not endeavoured to prove that their doctrines were not in opposition to morality. Besides, it is very necessary, after having silently sapped the foundation of our dwelling, that they support for some time the edifice, were it only while they have with us a common habitation; were it only during the interval when we should be able to judge in their presence, of the utility of their instructions: in short, very often, perhaps, the dupes of their own heart, they have been induced to believe that, because they were at the same time irreligious by system, and just by character and habit, religion and virtue have not a necessary union; and if it is true, that in the grand interests of life, the slightest doubt has some influence on our actions, would it be possible, that at the time when they would seek to shake religious opinions, even when they are ridiculed in conversation, that they would still endeavour to preserve a secret connexion with them, by the propriety of their conduct? It is thus that, in the disputes of princes, or in the quarrels of ministers, the members of the same family have sometimes the art of dividing themselves, in order, at all events, that one of their friends should be in each party.

These different reflections ought necessarily to be taken into consideration, before we give ourselves up to the inferences that they would wish to draw from the manners of irreligious men; but, to discredit their arguments, it is sufficient to observe, that we cannot make any application of them to the most numerous class of men: honest atheists have never existed among the commonalty, religion comprehends all their knowledge in morality; and if once they were to lose this guide, their conduct would be absolutely dependent on chance and circumstances.

It is still essential to observe, that, according to the motives to which we can attribute the relaxation of moral principles, there exists a great difference between the various characters which attend vicious actions: a depraved man, though religious, does wrong by accident, through weakness, and according to the successive transports of his passions; but the wicked atheist has not a fixed time; opportunities do not surprise him, he searches for them, or waits for them with impatience; he yields not through the contagion of imitation; but he takes pleasure in setting an example; he is not a corrupt fruit, he is himself the tree of evil.

Another objection is raised, but of a very different kind: they point out the contrast, frequently perceived, between the conduct and the religious sentiments of the greater part of men; an opposition from whence they would wish to conclude, that these sentiments are not a certain safeguard: and they add, to support their argument, that in examining the belief of all those, whose licentious life is terminated by an ignomious death, we perceive that the greater number is composed of people blindly subject to religious opinions.

Undoubtedly, these opinions form not, at all times, a complete resistance to the different starts of our passions; but it suffices, that they may be the most efficacious. There has been, and there ever will be, vicious men in the bosom of society, even where religion has the greatest influence; for it acts not on us like a mechanical force, by weights, levers, and springs, of which we can calculate exactly the power; it is not an arbitrary modification of our nature; but we are enlightened, guided, and animated, according to our dispositions and sensibility, and according to the degree of our own efforts in the numerous conflicts which we have to sustain; it would be then an evident piece of treachery, to attack religion, by drawing a picture of the vices and crimes, from which it has not been able to guard society, instead of fixing our attention on all the disorders which it checks or prevents.

They would be equally wrong, who represent the general languor of religion, as a proof that it has, in our time, very little influence on morality; it would be necessary rather to remark, how great must have been that power, which even in the decline of its force is still sufficient to concur to the maintenance of public order; we should be authorized to say, how valuable is the whole, when we receive so much advantage from a part?

In short, the consequence that they would wish to draw from the opinions, and from the faith of wretches sinking under the sword of justice, in an abuse of reasoning: men termed religious, forming the major part of the populace, we must among them necessarily meet the greater number of malefactors; in the same manner that we are sure to find, in this class, more men of a particular age, stature, or complexion; but, if they have a right to use such an argument to censure a religious education, they might, with the same reason, contest the salubrity of breast milk, alledging, that many sick and dying persons have received this nourishment. We should never confound a common circumstance with a general cause; these are two ideas absolutely distinct.

There are other objections which equally deserve to be discussed; but they will find a place, with more propriety, after the chapter where, I shall examine, under different heads, the influence of religious opinions on our happiness. You have seen, and you will perceive still more, in the progress of this work, that I do not endeavour to elude difficulties; for before I determined to defend, according to my abilities, a cause which I could wish to render dear to mankind, I carefully studied the means; and after having fortified myself against the systems opposite to my sentiments, I fear not to examine the motives which serve to support them.

CHAP. V.
_The Influence of Religious Principles on our Happiness._

As we have shown the close connexion of morality with religious opinions, we have already pointed out the principal relation of these opinions with public good, since the repose and interior tranquillity of society essentially depend on the maintenance of civil order, and the exact observance of the laws of justice. But a great part of human happiness does not arise from the community: thus, the benefits religion imparts would be very imperfect, if they were not extended to our most intimate sentiments, if they were not useful in those secret conflicts of different affections which agitate our souls, and which pre-occupy our thoughts. Religion is very far from deserving this reproach; that which raises it indeed above every kind of legislation is, that it influences equally public good and private happiness. We ought to examine this truth; but to do it philosophically, we must necessarily contemplate, and pry into our nature, and examine, for a moment, into the first causes of the enjoyments or the anxieties of our minds.

Men, when they have advanced a few steps in the world, and as soon as their intellectual faculties begin to open, extend their views, and live in the future; sensual pleasures and bodily pain only detain them in the present; but in the long intervals which exist between the renewal of these sensations, it is by anticipation and memory that they are happy or miserable; and recollection is only interesting, as it is perceived to keep up the connexion between the past and future. Undoubtedly, the influence of the future, on all our moral affections, escapes often our notice; to cite some examples of this truth, we believe, that only the present moment produces happiness, when we receive elogiums, obtain some mark of distinction, or are informed of an unexpected augmentation of our fortune; and still more, when we are pleased with the sport of our imagination, or the discoveries of our reason in our closet or in conversation. These enjoyments, and many others similar, we call present happiness; though there is not any one of them which does not owe its value, and even reality, to the single idea of futurity. In fact, respect, applause, the triumphs of self-love, the forerunners of fame, and even fame itself, are the acquisitions which education and habit have rendered precious, in exhibiting always beyond them some other advantage, of which these first were only the symbols. Often, indeed, the last object of our ambition is but an enjoyment of opinion, the confused image of some possession more real. Every where we see vague hopes hurry away our imagination; we see the expected good, the immediate end of our meditation, or the obscure motive of the estimation we annex to the various satisfactions, of which our present happiness is composed. Thus, indirectly, and almost unknown to ourselves, all is in perspective in our moral existence; and it is by this reasoning that, always deluded, we are seldom perfectly deceived. Subjected by long habit, it is in vain that we would wish to separate the imaginary advantages of opinion from the delusions of hope which surround them, and by which we have been seduced all our life.

There is but a small part of the moral system, which we cannot make agree with this manner of explaining the principal cause of our pleasures and of our pains. I am very far, however, from wishing to make the sentiments, which unite men by the charm of friendship, depend on the same principle; and which have such an essential influence on their happiness. All is real in these affections, since they are a simple association of ourselves to others, and them to us; in this view it may be considered as, in some measure, prolonging our own existence; but this division, so intimate, of the good and evil of life, does not destroy their essence. Friendship doubles our pleasures and our comforts; and it is by the close alliance of two sympathizing souls that we are fortified against all events; but it is always with the same passions that it is necessary to combat; thus whether we remain solitary, or live in others, the future preserves its influence over us.

If such is, however, our moral nature, that the object of our wishes will always be at some distance; if our thoughts, like the course of the waves, are ever active, and pressing forward; if our present enjoyments have a secret tie with the imaginary advantages of opinion, of which the last term is still a fleeting shadow; in short, if all is future in the fate of man; with what interest, with what love, with what respect, ought we not to consider this beautiful system of hope, of which religious opinions are the majestic foundation! What encouragement they present! What an end to all other ends! What a grand and precious idea, by its connexion with the most intimate and general sentiment, the desire of prolonging our existence! That which men dread most, is the image of an eternal annihilation; the absolute destruction of all the faculties which compose their being, is for them the downfall of the whole universe; and they are anxious to seek for a refuge against this overwhelming thought.

Undoubtedly, it is according to nature, according to the degree of strength of their religious opinions, that men seize with more or less confidence the hopes which they give, and the recompense they promise; but, doubt and obscurity have a powerful action, while supreme happiness is the object; for even in the affairs of this life, the grandeur of the prize offered to our ambition excites still more our ardour, than the probability of success. But where should we fix, where attach the slightest hope, if even the idea of a God, this first prop of religion, was ever destroyed; if, from the infancy of men, we did not present to their reflection, that worldly considerations are as transient as themselves; and if, early in life, they were humbled in their own eyes; if men applied themselves to stifle the internal sentiments, which inform them of the spirituality of their souls? Discouraged in this manner, by the first principles of their education, slackened in all the movements which carry thier reflections into futurity, they would often take retrospective views: the past recalling an irreparable loss, would too much captivate their attention; and their minds, in the midst of time, would no more be in a necessary equilibrium to enjoy the present moment; in short, this moment, which is not, in reality, but an imperceptible fraction, would appear almost nothing to our eyes, if it were not united in our contemplations, to the unknown number of days and years which are before us. It is then, because that there is nothing limited in the ideas of happiness and duration, with which religious sentiments impress us, that our imagination is not forced to recoil on itself, when it is insensibly lost in the immensity of futurity.

When, in following the course of a noble river, a vast horizon is presented to our view, we turn not our observation on the sandy banks we are coasting: but if, changing our situation, or twilight narrowing this horizon, our attention was turned on the barren flat we are near; then only we should remark all its dryness and sterility. It is the same in the career of life: when the grand ideas of infinity elevate our thoughts and our hopes, we are less affected by the weariness and difficulties strewed in our path; but, if changing our principles, a gloomy philosophy were to obscure our perspective, our whole attention drawn back on the surrounding objects, we should then very distinctly discover the void and illusion of the satisfactions of which our moral nature is susceptible.

Let us recollect, then, all the happiness which we owe to religious sentiments and obvious reflections, which, in attracting us continually towards the future, seem willing to save from the present moment the purest part of ourselves; these are, without our perceiving it, the enchantments of the moral world; if it were possible that, by cold reasoning, we at length destroyed them, a sad melancholy would ally itself to most of our reflections; and it would seem as if a winding-sheet had taken place of that transparent veil, through which the prospects of life are embellished. Undoubtedly, there would be still some charm in the days of youth, when the pleasures of the senses press on us, and fill a considerable time; but when the passions are tempered by age, when our strength has been broken by years, or prematurely attacked by sickness; in short, when the time is arrived, when men are constrained to seek, in the principles of morality, the chief support of their happiness; what would become of them, if those hopes and opinions were dissipated, which afford solid comfort and encouragement; and if an imagination, thus active, were weakened, which enlivens all the objects that anticipation can reach?

Reflect, then, with attention, on the different consequences which would be the fatal train of the annihilation of religious opinions; it is not a single idea, a single view, that men would lose; it would be, besides, the interest and the charm of all their desires and ambition. There is nothing indifferent, when our actions and designs can be in any respect attached to a duty; there is nothing indifferent, when the exercise and the improvement of our faculties appear the commencement of an existence, whose termination is unknown: but, when this period offers itself on all sides to our view, when we approach it every moment, what strong illusion would be sufficient to defend us from a sad despondency? Strictly circumscribed in the space of life, its limits would be in such a manner present to our mind, to every sentiment and enterprize perhaps, that we should be tempted to examine, what it is which can merit, on our part, an assiduous research; what it is which deserves close and painful application. Indeed, fame itself, which is called immortal, would no more hurry us on in the same manner, if we had a secret conviction, that it cannot grow, rise, subsist, but in such portions of space, and such durations of time, as our imagination cannot conceive. It is necessary, that the uncertain future be still our country, in order that we should be able to feel that unquiet love of a long celebrity, and those ardent impulses towards great things which is the salutary effect of it.

We deceive ourselves then, I think, when we accuse religion of necessarily rendering the business and the pleasures of the world uninteresting; its chief pleasures, on the contrary, are derived from religion, from those ideas of eternity, which it presents to our mind, which serve to sustain the enchantments of hope, and the sense of those duties of which our moral nature is ingeniously composed.

Religious opinions are perfectly adapted to our nature, to our weaknesses and perfections; they come to our succour in our real difficulties, and in those which the abuse of our foresight creates. But in what is grand and elevated in our nature, it sympathizes most: for, if men are animated by noble thoughts; if they respect their intelligence, their chief ornament; if they are interested about the dignity of their nature, they will fly, with transport, to bow before religion, which ennobles their faculties, preserves their strength of mind, and which, through its sentiments, unites them to Him, whose power astonishes their understanding. It is then that, considering themselves as an emanation of the Infinite Being, the commencement of all things, they will not let themselves be drawn aside by a philosophy, whose sad lessons tend to persuade us, that reason, liberty, all this immaterial essence of ourselves, is the mere result of a fortuitous combination, and an harmony without intelligence.

We have never perhaps observed, with sufficient attention, the different kinds of happiness which would be destroyed, or at least sensibly weakened, if this discouraging doctrine was ever propagated.

What would then become of the most sublime of all sentiments, that of admiration, if, instead of the grand view of the universe, far from reviving the idea of a Supreme Being, we retraced only a vast existence, but without design, cause, or destination; and if the astonishment of our minds was itself but one of the spontaneous accidents of blind matter?

What would become of the pleasure which we find in the developement, exercise, and progress of our faculties, if this intelligence, of which we love to glory, was only the result of chance, and if all our ideas were but a mere obedience to the eternal law of motion; if our liberty was but a fiction, and if we had not, if I may say so, any possession of ourselves?

What would become then of that active spirit of curiosity, whose charm excites us to observe continually the wonders with which we are surrounded, and which inspires, at the same time, the desire of penetrating, in some measure, into the mystery of our existence, and the secret of our origin? Certainly it would little avail us to study the course of nature, if this science could only teach us to comprehend the afflicting particulars of our mechanical slavery: a prisoner cannot be pleased to draw the form of his fetters, or reckon the links of his chains.

But how beautiful is the world, when it is represented to us as the result of a single and grand thought, and when we find every where the stamp of an eternal intelligence; and how pleasing to live with the sentiments of astonishment and adoration deeply impressed on our hearts!

But what a subject of glory are the endowments of the mind, when we can consider them as a participation of a sublime nature, of which God alone is the perfect model. And how delightful then to yield to the ambition of elevating ourselves still more, by exercising our thoughts and improving all our faculties!

In short, how many charms has the observation of nature, when, at every new discovery, we believe we advance a step towards an acquaintance with that exalted wisdom which has prescribed laws to the universe, and maintains it in harmony! It is then, and only then, that the study is truly interesting, and the progress of knowledge becomes an increase of happiness. Yes, under the influence of opinions, arising from the notions of materialists, all is languishing in our curiosity, all is mere instinct in our admiration, all is fictitious in the sentiments which we have of ourselves; but with the idea of a God, all is lively, all is reasonable and true: in short, this happy and prolific idea appears as necessary to the moral nature of man, as heat is to plants and to all the vegetable world. You may think, perhaps, that in examining the influence of religion on happiness, I have dwelt on several considerations, which are not of equal importance to all men; there are, indeed, some more particularly adapted to that part of society, whose minds are improved by education; but I am very far from wishing to divert a moment my attention from the numerous class of the inhabitants of the earth, whose happiness and misery arises from a simple idea, proportioned to the extent of their interests and reflections.

Those who seem to have a more pressing and constant need of the assistance of religion, have been left by the misfortunes of their parents to the wide world, devoid of property, and deprived also of those resources which depend on education. This class of men, condemned to hard labour, are, as it were, confined in a rough and uniformly barren path, where every day resembles the last, where they have not any confused expectations, or flattering illusion to divert them: they know that there is a wall of separation between them and fortune; and if they carried their views in life forward, they would only discover the dreadful state any infirmity would reduce them to; and the deplorable situation to which they might be exposed, by the cruel neglect which attends old age. With what transport, in this situation, would they not catch at the comfortable hopes which religion presents! With what satisfaction would they not learn, that after this probationary state, where so much disproportion overwhelmed them, there would come a time of equality! What would be their complaints, if they were to renounce a sentiment which still conforms itself, for their advantage, to a general idea, the only one, in short, of which they can make use in all events and circumstances of life. It is God’s will, they say to themselves, and this first thought supports their resignation: God will recompense you, God will return it to you, say they to others, when they receive alms; and these words remind them, that the God of the rich and powerful is also theirs; and that far from being indifferent to their fate, He deigns Himself to discharge their obligations.

How many other popular expressions continually recal the same sentiment of confidence and consolation. It is this continual relation of the poor with the Deity which raises them in their own eyes, and which prevents their sinking under the weight of contempt with which they are oppressed, and gives them sometimes courage to resist the pride of earthly greatness. What grander effect could be produced by an idea so simple? Thus, among the different things which characterise religion, I remark, above all, what seems more particularly the seal of a divine hand; it is, that the moral advantages, of which religion is the source, resembling the grand blessings of nature, belong equally to all men; and as the sun, in the distribution of its rays, observes neither rank nor fortune, in the same way those comforting sentiments, which are connected with the conception of a Supreme Being, and the hopes united to it, become the property of the poor as well as the rich, of the weak as well as the powerful, and can be as securely enjoyed under the lowly roof of a cottage, as in a superb palace. It is civil laws which increase, or give a sanction to the inequality of possessions; and it is religion which sweetens the bitterness of this hard disproportion.

We could not avoid feeling a compassion as painful as well founded, if, in considering attentively the fate of the greater number of men, we supposed them all at one stroke deprived of the only thought which supported their courage; they would no more have a God to confide their sorrows with; they would no more attend his ordinances to search for the sentiments of resignation and tranquillity; they would have no motive for raising their looks to heaven; their eyes would be cast down, fixed for ever on this abode of grief, of death, and eternal silence. Then despair would even stifle their groans, and all their reflections preying on themselves, would only serve to corrode their hearts; then those tears which they have a satisfaction in shedding, and which are attracted by the tender persuasion, that there exists some where commiseration and goodness, these consoling tears would no more moisten their eyes.

Who has not seen, sometimes, those veteran soldiers, who are prostrate here and there on the pavement of a sanctuary, erected in the midst of their august retreat? Their hair, which time has whitened; their forehead marked with honourable scars; that tottering step, which age only could impress on them, all inspire at first respect; but by what sentiments are we not affected, when we see them lift up and join with difficulty their weak hands, to invoke the God of the universe, of their heart and mind; when we see them forget, in this interesting devotion, their present pains and past griefs; when we see them rise with a countenance more serene, and expressive of the tranquillity and hope devotion has infused through their souls. Complain not in those moments, you who judge of the happiness of this world only from its enjoyments; their looks are humbled, their body trembles, and death awaits their steps; but this inevitable end, whose image only terrifies us, they see coming without alarm; they, through religion, have approached Him who is good, who can do every thing, whom none ever loved without receiving comfort. Come and contemplate this sight, you who despise religion, you who term yourselves superior; come and see the real value of your pretended knowledge for promoting happiness. Change the fate of men, and give them all, if you can, some portion of the enjoyments of life, or respect a sentiment which serves them to repulse the injuries of fortune; and since even the policy of tyrants has never dared to destroy it, since their power would be insufficient to enable them to succeed in the savage attempt, you, to whom nature has given superior endowments, be not more cruel, more inexorable than they; or if, by a pitiless doctrine, you wish to deprive the old, the sick, and the indigent, of the only idea of happiness which they can apply to, go from prison to prison, and to those dreary cells, where the wretched prisoners struggle with their chains, and shut with your own hands, if you have the heart to do it, the only aperture through which any ray of light can reach them.

It is not, however, a single class of society which derives an habitual assistance from religion, it is all those who have to complain of the abuse of authority, of public injustice, and the different vicissitudes of their fate; it is the innocent man who is condemned, the virtuous man who is slandered, the man who has once acted inconsistently, and been censured with too much rigour; all those, in short, who, convinced of the purity of their own conscience, seek for, above all, a secret witness of their intentions, and an enlightened judge of their conduct.

A man of an exalted character, endowed with sensibility of heart, experiences also the necessity of forming to himself an image of an unknown Being, to which he can unite all the ideas of perfection which fill his imagination; it is to Him that he refers those different sentiments, which are useless amidst the corruptions which surround him; it is in God alone that he can find an inexhaustible subject of astonishment and adoration; and with Him alone can he renew and purify his sentiments, when he is wearied with the sight of the vices of the world, and the habitual return of the same passions. In short, at every instant the happy idea of a God softens and embellishes our path through life, and by it we associate ourselves with delight to all the beauties of nature; by it every thing animated enters into communication with us; yes, the noise of the wind, the murmurs of the water, the peaceable agitation of plants, all serves to support, or melt our souls, provided that our thoughts can rise to a universal cause, provided we can discover every where the works of Him whom we love, provided we can distinguish the vestiges of His footsteps and the traces of His intentions; and, above all, if we can suppose, that we ourselves contribute to the display of His power, and the splendour of His goodness.