Chapter V: Part 5

I do not intend to place among the objections I ought to discuss, nor in the number of arguments, that it is important to examine, the various opinions on such and such parts of religious worship, nor the difficulties raised against the adoption of some dogmatic notion, thought essential by some, and considered with indifference by others: it is not a treatise of controversial theology which I wish to compose; and it is still less the doctrines of one particular church, which I would oppose to that of another; all of them connect morality to the commands of a Supreme Being; they all of them see in the public worship the respectful expression of a sentiment of love and gratitude towards the Author of Nature. Thus, those who might think they perceived some imperfections in the system, or in the forms of worship, adopted in a nation, should not use this objection to dispute the utility of religion, since the reflections, which have been just made on its importance, may be applied equally to the doctrines of all countries, and the principles of every sect.

I shall dwell then on the only difficulty which interests, without distinction, the different religions of Europe.

The establishment of public worship, and the necessity of consecrating at least one day in every week, occasions, say some, a suspension of labour too frequent; and this suspension injures the state, and diminishes the resources of the people.

I may at first observe, that such objections would appear very weak, if compared with the great advantages which men owe to religion! An increase of wealth can never outweigh order, morality, and happiness. But I must go further to prove, that a day of rest, devoted amongst us to public worship, cannot injure the political strength; and that so far from being contrary to the interests of the people, it protects and favours them; and as I invariably prefer such interests to all others, I shall begin by demonstrating, in a few words, the justness of this proposition.

We should be mistaken if we thought, that in a given space of time, men forced, by the inequality of conditions, to live by their labour, would, by observing the precepts of religion, better their situation, if they were not obliged to rest from labour one day in every week.

It is necessary, in order to perceive this truth, to examine, first, what is now the measure of wages; it is not an exact proportion between labour and its reward. In fact, if we consulted only the light of reason and equity, no one, I believe, would dare to decide, that the most scanty necessaries is the just price of fatiguing and painful labour, which commences at the dawn, and does not finish till the setting of the sun: we should not be able to maintain, that in the midst of his enjoyments, and in the bosom of luxurious idleness, the rich ought not to grant any other retribution to those who sacrifice their time and strength to increase their revenue and multiply their enjoyments. It is not then by the principles of common sense or reflection, that the wages of the generality have been fixed; it is a compact established by power, a yoke to which the weak must submit. The possessor of a vast domain would see all his riches vanish, if numerous labourers did not come to cultivate his estate, and carry into his store-house the fruit of their toil; but, as the number of men without property is immense, their concurrence, and the pressing need that they have to labour for a subsistence, obliges them to receive the law from him who can, in the bosom of ease, wait quietly for their services; and it results from this habitual relation between the rich and poor, that the wages for hard labour are constantly reduced to the most scanty allowance, that is to say, to what is only sufficient to satisfy their daily and indispensable wants.

This system once settled, if it were possible, that, by a revolution in our nature, men could live and preserve their strength without allotting every day some hours to repose and sleep, it is beyond doubt, that the work of twenty hours would be required for the same wages now granted for twelve.

Or, by an assimilation, agreeing with the hypothesis I have just mentioned, suppose that a moral revolution permitted labourers to work the seventh day, they would consequently, in a short time, require of them the extraordinary labour at the former rate; and this levelling would take place through the gradual diminution of the price of labour. The class of society, which, in exerting its power, has regulated the present wages, not according to reason and equity, but according to the necessities of the labourers, would quickly discern its own interest; and that when a day more was paid for, the people could bear a diminution of the seventh part of their wages, and be in their old state. Thus, though before the change had thoroughly taken place, all those who live by labour would think that they had acquired a new resource; yet they would soon be brought to their former condition; for it is the same with social order as with the law of equilibrium in nature, which combines ranks and places, every thing according to the immutable law of the proportion of force.

Men, devoid of property, after having been some time deceived, would only get an increase of work by the abolition of the Sabbath; and as this truth does not present itself naturally to the mind, we ought to consider, as an essential service of religion, its having secured the greater number of men from a degree of oppression, to which they would have run blindly, if they had been at liberty to make a choice.

The daily labour of one class of society surpasses the reasonable measure of its strength, and hastens the days of decripitude; it was then absolutely necessary that the customary course of these labours should be, for a time, suspended; but as the people, pressed by wants of every kind, are exposed to be seduced by the slightest appearance of advantage, it was further necessary to their happiness, that the interruption of thier fatigues, fixed by a religious duty, appeared not to them the voluntary sacrifice of fortune, and did not leave in them any regret. In short, they are pleased when they think of those days of rest, which produce a little alteration in their manner of living; and they require that alteration, not to be depressed by a continual train and repetition of the same occupations. Thus, were you to assert artfully, that the people are not as comfortable of a Sunday, as during the week, it would be at least true, that one is softened by the expectation of the other; there are people so very wretched, and probably, on that account, so bounded are their desires, that the most trifling variety is a substitute for hope. It seems to me, that the hearts of the common people may be sometimes cheered with the thought of being once a week dressed like their superiors; when they are absolute masters of their time, and can say,—and I also—I am free[3].

I must now examine the second proposition which I have mentioned.

You have made obvious, some will say, that an augmentation of the days of labour would occasion a reduction of the wages allowed for it, we may then reasonably ask, if this result would not favour commerce, and contribute, in some respect, to increase the political strength? Undoubtedly you may consider under this point of view, the diminution of the reward of industry; but the political strength being always a relative idea, and derived from comparisons with other states, this strength can never be augmented or diminished by a circumstance common to all the countries of Europe. Were a barbarous ambition to abolish in one state the Sabbath, the abolition would probably procure it a degree of superiority, if it was the only one that adopted such a change; but as soon as others followed their example, the advantage would disappear. However, the same arguments ought to serve to convince us, that those countries, where the intervals of inaction occur oftener, have necessarily a political disadvantage, with regard to others, where Sunday and a few solemn feasts are the only days of rest prescribed by government.

We may conclude from these observations, that so far from finding fault with religion for appointing a day of rest, devoted every week to public worship, we ought to acknowledge with pleasure, that such an institution is a benevolent act, extended to the most numerous class of the inhabitants of the earth, the most deserving our consideration and protection; from which we require so much, and return so little: towards that unfortunate class, whose youth and maturity the rich profit by, and abandon them when the hour is come, when they have no more strength left but to enable them to pray and weep.

CHAP. X.
_An Observation on a particular Circumstance of public Worship._

It is not sufficient, that sovereigns are persuaded of the influence of religion on the morality and happiness of men; they ought to make use of proper means to maintain this salutary action; and, of course, every part of public worship becomes of the greatest importance. Educated in a religion, thought by some to approach nearer the first ideas of christianity, yet as it has adopted several principles by no means consonant with the Catholic faith, it would be unwise in me to discuss any of the questions which divide the two churches; and I should do it without any good accruing from it, so much are we disposed to refer to early prejudices, the ideas which are most intimately blended with the sentiments and feeling of a man; we like to take a general view, and this method agrees with our indolence; but it leads us often astray. I think, however, that the minds of the people are now sufficiently enlightened, to permit me to advise the superiors of both church and state, to examine attentively, if it is not full time to make more use of the vulgar tongue, and if we are not warned, by the present depravity of morals, to alter the manner of performing divine service in this respect.

It is only during an interval of the grand mass that the priest addresses to country people some words of exhortation in their own language; it was natural to consider this moment as the most proper to dispose the mind to respect and attention; but perhaps, even the pomp of an august ceremony, by attracting strongly the imagination, withdraws the generality from the importance of the other parts of divine worship; and it frequently happens in country places, that many people go out of the church during the sermon, and return at the moment of consecration.

I think also, that public prayers should always be in the vulgar tongue, and they might easily be made interesting and affecting, as there are not any religious discourses which sympathize more with human weakness; and as our wants and anxieties may be made use of to raise us towards the Supreme Being, the best of all bands might be chosen to win the multitude.

I must observe besides, that part of the country people, especially in harvest time, and other seasons, when the husbandman is particularly busy, assist only at early mass, and then they see but a part of the religious ceremonies[4]. And, if the practice and liberty of working on a Sunday was more extended, the inhabitants of the country, still more confined to the first mass, would hear neither prayers nor instructive discourses in their own language during the whole year.

Certainly there must be something altered in these religious institutions in order to make them more efficaciously serve to support morality, and comfort the most numerous class of the human race. Country people, whose labour produces our wealth, ought to be taken care of with paternal anxiety; and since they are not exposed to those disorderly passions which find nourishment in a metropolis; since mild and prudent means still suffice to maintain them in the habit of duty; both the superiors in church and state have to answer, in some measure, for the corruption of their manners and dispositions.

CHAP. XI.
_That the single Idea of a God is a sufficient Support of Morality._

After having shown that morality has need of a supernatural support, you have reason to expect, that I should explain the intimate and immediate relation which unites religion to the love of virtue, and the observance of order. I will endeavour, then, to discuss this important question; and in order to arrive at the truth, I shall follow first the course of those simple sentiments and natural thoughts, which guide the mind and the heart of man, in every climate and country under heaven.

It is easy to unite all the moral legislation, and the entire system of our duties, by means only of the idea of a God.

The universe, notwithstanding its magnificence and its immensity, would be a mere nothing, if its Supreme Author had not peopled it with intelligent beings, capable of contemplating so many wonders, and of receiving happiness from them; but the faculties with which we are endowed, consciousness of possessing them, and the liberty to act, all announce to us that we are united to a grand combination, that we have a part to take on the vast stage of the world.

The most simple reason, that which resembles instinct, would have been sufficient to enable us to take care of the body, and to have concentred us in ourselves; more would not have been necessary for those who have so little to do. Thus, when I see that the mind is susceptible of continual improvement, when I see that men enjoy the power of assisting each other, and of communicating their ideas, in a manner so much superior to other animals; when I fix my attention on our social dispositions, and on all the relative qualities which compose our nature, I cannot avoid thinking, that we have a plan of conduct to follow towards others, and that in our pilgrimage on earth we must be circumspect, having obstacles to conquer, sacrifices to make, and obligations to fulfil.

Men then appear to be led to religion by the most excellent gifts of nature, and by all that they have in them of the sublime; but we ought to remark, as a singular resemblance, that their wants also, and their extreme weakness, lead them to the same object.

Whatever may be my emotions, when I reflect on the present imperious laws to which I am obliged to submit, and when I recal to mind the grandeur and magnificence which I have been a witness of, I raise continually my soul towards the Sovereign Director of events, and am led by instinct, as well as by a rational sentiment, to address my prayers to Him. It appears to the unfortunate, when they view so many wonders which their understanding cannot grasp, that so little is wanting to guard them from the dangers which threaten them, they implore the commiseration of Him whose formidable power bursts from all sides. But, while they admire and adore, they must imitate His perfections, and not expect mercy when they show none. Purity of heart only can render an intercourse with the Supreme Being interesting; and prayers are merely a solemn kind of mockery, when they do not produce virtue and forbearance, when they do not render us kindly affected to each other; our very state of dependence, our wants and weaknesses, should bind us to those beings who equally share the blessings so liberally bestowed, and have the same evils to endure. Thus discontent, the fear of futurity, the anxiety caused by misfortunes, all the sentiments, which engage men to disturb social order, take another character, or are at least sensibly modified; when, from their first suffering, they can elevate their wishes to God, but dare not do it, with a heart sullied by criminal intentions.

It is not only prayer which leads us to religion; another communication with the Supreme Being, gratitude, produces the same effect. A man, persuaded of the existence of a sovereign power, and who gladly connects with the divine protection his success and happiness, feels, at the same time, a desire to express his gratitude; and not being able to do any thing for him who bestows all, he seeks to form an idea of the perfections of that Supreme Being, in order to comprehend the system of conduct most conformable to his attributes. At first, what reflections possess our mind, what emotions agitate our souls, when we contemplate the universe? When we respectfully admire that magnificent harmony, which is the incomprehensible result of an innumerable multitude of different powers: struck with this vast whole, where we discover an agreement so perfect, how is it possible for us to avoid considering order as a distinct mark of the wisdom and of the design of Omnipotence? And how is it possible for us not to think, that we render him the most worthy homage, at the time we make use of the free intelligence which he has endowed us with. Then in the composition of a social structure, a work which has been entrusted to us, we shall try to penetrate the ideas of wisdom and order, of which all nature presents such a grand example; then, in establishing the relations which unite men, we shall carefully study the laws of moral order, and we shall find them all founded on the reciprocation of duties, which submit to a regular movement different jarring personal interests. In short, the idea of a God, Creator, Regenerator, and Preserver of the Universe, by invariable laws, and by a train of the same causes and the same effects, seems to call us to the conception of a universal morality, which, in imitation of the unknown springs of the natural world, may be as the necessary tie of this succession of intelligent beings, who always, with the same passions, come to pass and repass on the earth, to seek, or to fly, to assist, or to hurt each other, according to the strength or the weakness of the knot which unites them, and according to the wisdom or inconsistency of the principles which direct their opinions.

The attentive study of man and of his nature ought to contribute to confirm in us the idea which we have just pointed out. We cannot, in fact, consider the prodigious difference which exists between the minds and characters of men; we cannot fix our attention on the length to which this difference may be carried, by the perfectibility of which they are susceptible; we cannot, in short, reflect on a like constitution, without being induced to think, that the counterpoise of these extraordinary means of force and usurpation must proceed from reason, from that singular authority which only can establish, between men, relations of justice and convenience, proper to maintain an equilibrium and harmony in the midst of so many disparities: it is thus, that respect for morality seems evidently to make a part of the general view and primitive idea of the Supreme Disposer of the universe. And what pleasure shall we not find in the persuasion, that the cultivation of virtue, that the observance of order, offers us the means of pleasing our Divine Benefactor! It is by that alone that we can hope to concur, however feebly, in the execution of his grand designs; and in the centre of so many blessings, surrounded by so many signs of a particular protection, how highly ought we to value this means of communication with the Author of our existence? Thus, then, the homage of adoration and gratitude which we render to the Deity, leads us to a sentiment of respect for the laws of morality; and this sentiment, in its turn, serves continually to maintain in us the idea of a Supreme Being.

Independent of the reflections which we have just presented, morality, considered in all its extent, has need of being strengthened by this disposition of the soul, which makes us interested in the happiness of others; and it is besides, in one of the most glorious perfections of the Deity, that we find the first model of this precious sentiment. Yes, we cannot deny it: either our existence proceeds from no cause, or we owe it to the goodness of the Supreme Being. Life, some will say, undoubtedly is a mixture of pains and pleasures: but, if we are candid we shall confess, that those moments, when it ceases to appear to us a benefit, do not often occur in life: in youth, existence is thought the greatest blessing, and the other seasons of life offer pleasures less animated, certainly, but which agree better with the progress of our understanding, and the increase of our experience.

It is true, that in order to free ourselves from a sentiment of gratitude, we often think that we would not accept of a renewal of life, on condition of our running over a second time our career, and returning step by step in the same track. But we should consider, that we do not fix a just value on the benefits which we have received; for when we take a retrospective view of life, we see it stripped of its two principal ornaments, curiosity and hope; and it is not in this state that it was given to us, and that we have enjoyed it.

It is, perhaps, not in our power to replace ourselves, by contemplation, in the situation where the imagination made our chief pleasure, a slight breath has easily effaced it from our memory: it is evident that we enjoy life, because we look forward with affright to the moment when we shall be forced to renounce it; but, as this happiness is composed of present pleasures, and those which we anticipate, we cease to be good judges of the value of life, when this future prospect is not presented to our eyes, but under the form of the past; for we know not how to appreciate, with a languishing recollection, that which we have loved in the moment of hope.

Physical evils are not either the end or the condition of our nature, they are its accidents: the happiness of infancy, which shows in its primitive purity the works of the Deity, visibly point out the goodness of the Supreme Being; and how can we avoid believing, that we owe our origin to a benevolent design, since it is a desire of happiness, which has been given to serve as the motive of all our actions? We should indeed speak well of life, if we had not corrupted its comforts by artificial sentiments, which we have substituted instead of nature; if we had not submitted so many realities to pride and vanity; if, instead of assisting each other to be happy, we had not employed our thoughts to make others submit to us. Undoubtedly there are some sufferings annexed to our existence, as in the natural world there are apparent defects. Let us employ our minds on the most exalted subjects, and we shall no longer be a prey to envy and discontent.

It is on the consideration of detached events; it is in some particular circumstances, that we raise doubts about the goodness of God; but we immediately discern it when we compare particulars which wound us, with the great whole of which they make a part; we discover then, that the misfortunes which we are so quickly offended with are a simple appendage of a general system, where all the characters of a beneficent intelligence are evidently traced. It is necessary then to view the whole of life to discover the intention of the author of nature; and in meditating in this manner, we shall return always to a sentiment of respect and gratitude. This simple idea is very extensive in its application; it seems to me, above all, that it serves to console us under the ills of life; the man who is penetrated by it can say to himself, the transitory evil to which I am subject, is perhaps one of the inevitable effects of this universal harmony, the most noble and the most extensive of all conceptions. Thus, in the moments when I bemoan my fate, I ought not to think myself forsaken, I ought not to accuse Him, whose infinite wisdom is present to my view, Him whose general laws have so often appeared to me a visible expression of real goodness.

It is in vain, some will say, it is in vain that you would wish to make us attend to these considerations; we only remark, that our earthly happiness is at least inferior to that which our imagination so readily forms the picture of; and we do not perceive, in such a disposition, the union of perfections which ought to be ascribed to the Supreme Being.

This objection is presented under different forms in the writings of all the enemies to religion; and they have drawn consequences, sometimes against the goodness of God, his power, his wisdom, and justice. It is necessary, clearly to explain this difficulty, to be in a state to form to ourselves an idea of the perfection of an Infinite Being; but in all our attempts, we only carry to the extreme every quality which we conceive; instead of that, perfection in the works of the Creator, probably consists in a kind of gradation and harmony, the secret of which we cannot either embrace, or penetrate; and we ought still more to be on our guard, when we form any conception of the essence of the Deity, as by confining ourselves solely to reconcile his sovereign power with his perfect goodness, we should never fix the boundary when these two properties will be in an equilibrium: for after having exhausted every supposition, we might still ask, why the number of rational beings is not more extended? We might ask, why every grain of sand is not one of those beings? why there is not a number equal to that infinite divisibility of which we form the idea? In short, from extreme to extreme, and always in arguing on the sovereign power, the least inanimate atom, the least void in nature, would appear a boundary to the goodness of the Supreme Being. We see then to what a point we may wander, when we abandon common sense for the vague excursions of a metaphysical spirit.

I think, if no other proofs could be found, the power of God would be sufficient to demonstrate his goodness; for this power informs us every instant, that if the Supreme Ruler of the World had intended the misery of rational beings, he would have had, to fulfil this intention, means as rapid as numerous. He needed not have created worlds; nor have made them so convenient and beautiful; a terrific gulph, and eternal darkness might have been sufficient to collect together those unfortunate beings, and make them feel their misery. Let us not dwell on these gloomy subjects, let us follow a just emotion of gratitude; we shall be eager then to render homage to that indelible character of love and goodness which we see stamped on all nature. An unknown power opens our eyes to the light, and permits us to view the wonders of the universe: it awakens in us those enchanting sensations which first point out the charms of life; it enriches us with that intellectual gift which re-assembles round us past ages, and the time to come; it confers, in an early hour, an empire, by endowing us with those two sublime faculties, will and liberty; in short, it renders us sensible to the real pleasure of loving and being beloved; and when, by the effect of a general plan, of which we have but an imperfect conception, it spreads here and there some difficulties in the road of life; it seems to wish to soften them, by showing us always the future through the enchanting medium of the imagination. Could it be then without any interest or goodness, that this magnificent system was conceived, and preserved by so many superb demonstrations of wisdom and power? What should we be in the sight of the Eternal, if he did not love us? We do not adorn his majestic universe, or lend to the dawn its magnificent colours; neither have we covered the earth with a verdant carpet, or bid the celestial bodies revolve in the immense expanse; he asked not counsel of us—we should be nothing in his eyes, if he was indifferent to our gratitude, and if he took not any pleasure in the happiness of his creatures.

In short, were we to turn our attention from so many striking proofs of the goodness of God; were they to be effaced from our memory, we should still find, in the recesses of our heart, a sufficient evidence of this comfortable truth, we should perceive that we are good and affectionate, when not perverted by passion; and we should be led to think, that such an inclination in beings who have received every thing, must necessarily be the seal of their Divine Author. In order to exalt this sentiment, we must refer it continually to the idea of a Supreme Being; for there is, we doubt not, a correspondence of instinct and reflection between our virtue and the perfections of him who is the origin of all things; and provided we do not resist our natural emotions, we shall perceive from those very perfections all that is sufficient to excite our worship and adoration; above all, whatever is necessary to serve as an example for our conduct, and to afford principles of morality.

I ought now to examine some important objections; for why should I fear to present them? a love for systems and opinions ought not to exist, in treating a subject on which so many have expatiated, and which belongs equally to all men. Though we are allowed, when seeking truth eagerly, to wish to find it united to the sentiments which form our happiness, and the principles which are the foundation of public order.

We admit, say some, that there are many perfections peculiar to the Supreme Being, the study and knowledge of which ought to serve to sustain the laws of morality; but one of the essential properties of the divine essence oversets the whole structure, it is prescience: for, as God knows beforehand what we are to do, it follows, that all our actions are irrevocably determined; and thus man is not free. And, if such is his condition, he deserves neither praise nor censure; he has no means of pleasing or displeasing the Supreme Being, and the ideas of good and evil, of virtue and vice, are absolutely chimerical. I shall, at first, make a very simple reply to this objection, but a very decisive one: it is that, if against appearances you should happen to persuade me, that there now exists an absolute contradiction between the liberty of man and the prescience of the Deity, it is on the nature and extent of this prescience that I shall raise my doubts; for, forced to choose, I should rather mistrust the judgment of my own mind, than that of an internal persuasion. It is by these same considerations, that it will always be impossible to prove to men that they are not free: we could only succeed with the assistance of reasoning, and reasoning being already a beginning of art, a kind of exterior combination of reflections, this means, in some measure out of us, would not have power to eradicate a sentiment which seems the first that we are conscious of.

We soon discover the limits of our faculties, in the efforts which we make to acquire a just idea of the divine prescience: we can very well suppose, that God foresees with certainty what we only conjecture about, and in extending without end the bounds which occur to our mind, we shall proportion in our imagination, the knowledge of the Creator to the immensity of space, and to the infinity of time; but beyond these vague ideas we shall err in all our speculations. How is it possible, that men, who know not even the nature of their own souls, should be able to determine the nature of prescience? How is it possible, that they can know whether this prescience is the effect of a rapid calculation of him, who embraces at one glance the relation and effects of every moral and natural cause? how can they discern, whether this prescience, in an Infinite Being, is distinct from simple knowledge? How can they know whether that Being, by a property beyond our conception, does not exist before and after events, whether he is not, in some manner, the intellectual time, and whether our divisions of years and ages, would not disappear before his immoveable existence and eternal duration.

It results, however, from these considerations, that on account of our extreme ignorance we cannot accurately define prescience; but we are reduced to examine whether this prescience, considered in a general manner, is incompatible with the liberty of man.

This opinion, I think, should not be adopted. Prescience does not determine future events, for the mere knowledge of the future makes not the future. It is not prescience which necessitates the actions of men, because it does not change the natural order of things; but all future events are fixed, whether foreseen or not; for constraint and liberty conduct equally to a positive term: thus, all that will happen is as immutable as that which is past, since the present was the future of yesterday, and will be to morrow the past. It is then abstractedly certain, that an event, either foreseen or not, will take place some time; but if liberty is not contrary to this inevitable certainty, how would it be more so, because their exists a Being who is acquainted previously with the precise nature of events? We may then say, with truth, that the knowledge of the future is no more an obstacle to liberty, than the remembrance of the past; and prophecies, like histories, are only recitals, whose place is not the same in the order of time; but not having any influence on events, do not constrain the will, cannot enslave the sentiments, or subject men to the law of necessity.

We will confess, however, that if prescience was founded on the possibility of calculating the actions of men, like the movements of an organized machine, liberty could not exist; but then it would not be prescience which opposed this liberty, it would be because we are automatons; for with such a constitution we should be without liberty, were even the Supreme Being not to have any knowledge of futurity.

It is in vain, in order to convince us we are not free, that some would represent us as necessarily submitting to the impulse of various exterior objects; comprehending, among those objects, every thing that is subtle in moral ideas, and uniting them under the general name of motives, and giving afterwards to these motives a physical force which we are bound to obey; but to be free, is it necessary that we act without motives? then man would be indeed evidently a piece of mechanism. It is certain, that we are, in all our actions, determined by reason, taste, or a cause of preference; but it is our mind which comprehends these various considerations, which weighs, compares, and modifies; it is our mind which listens to the counsels of virtue, and which replies to the language of our passions; it is in order to enlighten itself that it borrows from the memory the succours of experience; it is then our mind which prepares, composes, and improves every thing which we term motives, and it is after this intellectual labour that we act. There is too much order, unity, and harmony in our thoughts, to allow us to suppose them the mere effect of exterior objects; which, under the form of ideas, come without order to impress themselves on our brain; and until we are made acquainted with the works of chaos, we shall believe with reason that every where there is that unity, that order; that there is a faculty capable of re-assembling every thing that is scattered, and uniting to one end all that is mixed without design.

As soon as we are impelled to believe, that there is a master of all our perceptions, and that we feel this master act, how is it possible not to be certain that it is our mind which acts? It is then, in breaking loose from its operations, that we are stripped of our liberty, and that we at length suppose that our will is the necessary consequence of all exterior objects, as if it were the colours, and not the painter, which produced a picture. However, if we secure our mind from that dependence to which some wish to reduce it, our actions will not obey these irresistible emotions; for if they grant that we have liberty of thought, we have free will.

We ought to consider our senses as messengers, which bring to our mind new subjects of reflection; but they are in such a manner subordinate to the sublime part of ourselves, that they act only under direction; sometimes the ruling principle commands them to bring representations of the beauties of nature, to examine assiduously the registers of the human mind, to take the rule and the compass, and render an exact account of that which it desires to know with precision; sometimes they are taught to acquire more power, and when the soul wishes to communicate with men, when it wishes to address posterity, it orders them to perpetuate in indelible characters all that it has maturely combined, all that it has discovered, and all it hopes to add to the treasures of our knowledge. Is it not the master rather than the slave of our senses, or the blind play of their caprice?

There is besides another observation, which seems to contrast with the absolute empire, that some are willing to grant to exterior objects over the powers of our soul; for it is in the silence of meditation that the action of our mind is not interrupted: we experience that we have the power of recalling past ideas, and that we can connect those ideas with the prospect of the future, and to various imaginary circumstances of which we compose this picture; our reflection is then the result, but not the work of those exterior objects we are acquainted with. These two words, work and result, which in some acceptations have a great resemblance, have here very different meanings; and it is only in confounding them, that the objection against the existence of our liberty is favoured. We cannot form any judgment, without previously discussing every argument proper to throw a light on the subject; and the result of such enquiries determines our will; but these enquiries are themselves the work of our mind.

In short, all the degrees which lead to the end of our intellectual researches, are simple antecedents, and not absolute motives: there is, in the operations of our mind, as in every thing which is not immoveable, a train of causes and effects; but this train does not characterize necessity more than liberty.

In restoring thus to our soul its original dignity, do you not perceive, that we approach nearer to nature, than in adopting those systems and explications which assimilate our intellectual faculties to the regular vibrations of a pendulum? or would you like better still to compare them to those little balls which go out of their niches to strike our brain, which by various ramifications, produce that shock which impels our will? I see, in all this, only childish figures, put in the place of those names which indicate at least, by their abstraction, the indefinite extent of the ideas which they represent, and the respect they merit. It is easy to call a motive a little moving ball; it is easy to call uncertainty or repentance the combat of two of these balls, till the arrival of a third forms a determination; and the concurrence of many to the same point excites, in us, an impetuous passion: but who sees not that, after having endeavoured to debase the functions of the mind by these wretched comparisons, the difficulty remains undiminished?

In short, if the meditations and the researches of our minds, on the existence and the nature of our liberty, presents us only impenetrable clouds and obscurity, is it not singular, that in the midst of this darkness we should reject all the information of our instinctive sentiments, which only can clearly explain every thing that we in vain search for by other means? What would you say of a man born blind, who would not be directed by the voice? We are assuredly better instructed in the constitution of our nature by our feelings, than by metaphysical arguments! they compose an internal part of the essence of our soul; and we ought to consider them, in some measure, as a sally of the incomprehensible formation, whose mysteries we cannot penetrate. Such a doctrine, which came to us from a divine hand, is more deserving of confidence than the interpretations of men. There are secrets which philosophers try in vain to explain, all their efforts are useless to represent by comparison, that which is alone and without resemblance.

One would think, that nature, guessing the false reasoning which would mislead us, has purposely bestowed an inward conviction of the existence of our free will, in composing our natural life of two movements very distinct: one depends on a necessity, whose laws we are not acquainted with, and do not govern; whilst the other is entirely submitted to the government of our reason. Such a comparison would be sufficient to convince us, if we sought merely for the truth.

When Spinosa desired to throw contempt on our instinctive perceptions, he said, it is the same as if a weather-cock, at the very moment it was the plaything of the winds, believed itself to be the cause, and consequently that it had free will. What signifies such an argument, unless it is to prove, that it is possible to suppose a fiction so perfect, that it would apparently be equivalent to a reality? But I would ask, by what foolish design of an intelligent being, or even by what fortuitous assemblage of blind nature, is it that man should have every moment a will precisely conformable to his actions, if there is not a real correspondence between every part?

We could oppose to the hypothesis of Spinosa another argument, which would lead to a conclusion absolutely contrary; that is, if the most apparent liberty may be only a fiction, by a particular concurrence of our will with an action ordained; it is also incontestible, that were we to suppose the existence, or simple possibility of a free-will, we could not have a different idea of it, than that which we have already; and the liberty of God himself would not appear to our thoughts under any other form. It is very essential to remark, that when we reflect about our faculties, we with ease imagine a superior degree of intelligence, of knowledge, of memory, of foresight, and of every other property of our understanding; liberty is the only part of ourselves to which our imagination cannot add any thing.

I shall not pursue other subtle arguments, which have been produced, to corroborate my opinion; it is not to some men, but to all, that I desire to speak, because I wish to be universally useful: I shall then always dwell on the principal reflections, whenever they appear to me sufficient to influence the opinion of sound minds, and to fix them on those important truths which are the surest foundation of public happiness. Self-love might induce many to follow a question as far as it would go, and vainly glory in spinning it out; but self-love, applied to profound meditations, is itself a great subtilty.

Let us examine other arguments used to combat principles which we have established. It is in vain, some will say, to endeavour to prove the existence of a God, as a real support of the laws of morality; all this system will fall to pieces, if we are not informed, at the same time, in what manner this God rewards and punishes.

I shall observe, at first, that such an objection cannot make a very deep impression, but when it is connected in our minds with some doubt of the existence of a Supreme Being: a question that I shall not yet treat; for supposing an internal conviction of this last truth, supposing, in all its force, the idea of a God present to our thoughts; I ask, whether in order to please Him, we should not have need of knowing precisely the period when we could perceive distinct signs of his approbation and beneficence? I ask, again, whether, to avoid incurring His displeasure, it would be equally necessary for us to know how, and in what manner, He would punish us? Undoubtedly not: for in taking a comprehensive view of the rewards and punishments which may proceed from a Supreme Being, struck with His grandeur, and astonished by His power, the vague idea of infinity would obtrude; and this idea, so awful, would suffice to govern our sentiments, and fix our principles of conduct. We should be careful not to propose conditions to Him who has drawn us out of nothing, and we should wait with respect for the moment, when, in His profound wisdom, He may think proper to make us better acquainted with His attributes. Men may say to each other, secure my wages, I want them on such a day, I demand them on such an hour; they barter things of equal value, and during a short space of time; but in the intercourse of man with the Deity, what a difference!—The creature and the Creator—the child of dust and the source of life—a fleeting moment and eternity—an imperceptible atom and the Infinite Being!—our understanding is struck by the contrast! How then should we adapt to such disproportions the rules and notions which we have introduced into our trivial transactions? You require that in order to feel the desire of pleasing the Supreme Being, He should every moment bestow gifts on those, who, by their sentiments and actions, appear worthy of his goodness; and, to inspire the fear of offending Him, you wish that, without delay, He would let His vengeance crush the wicked. Certainly you would be scrupulous observers of His will on such conditions, for less stable hopes and fears detain you servilely near a monarch; and I may venture to say, that you would be equally attentive to the Ruler of the World, if, in order to reward or punish you, he was to alter the laws of nature.

But do we not, you may add, see that God does not interfere in any manner to direct things here below: you do not perceive Him; but do you more clearly discover the power which gives life and motion? It is not because He does not exist, but because He is above the flight of your mind. We do not know what to say to a man who rejects the opinion of the existence of a God; for without that guide all our ideas are wandering, and have not any other connexion but that of the wildest imagination; but if you grant that the world had an origin, if you suppose a God, creator and preserver, what arguments would you use to induce us to believe that this God has no relation to us; that He does not take any notice of us, and that He is thus separated from the offspring of His intelligence and love? You add, vice is every where triumphant, an honest man often languishes in despondency and obscurity; and you cannot reconcile this injustice with the idea of a Divine Providence! One may at first deny the assertion which forms the basis of this reproach, or dispute at least the consequences that are drawn from it: these ideas of triumph and abasement, of splendour and obscurity, are sometimes very foreign to the internal sentiments, which only constitute happiness and misery; and for my part, I am persuaded, that if we take for a rule of comparison, not some particular situation, or some, scattered events, but the whole of life, and the generality of men; we shall then find, that the most constant satisfactions attend those minds which are filled with a mild piety, firm and rational, such as the pure idea of the Deity ought to inspire; and I am equally persuaded, that virtue, united to this piety, which knows how to soften every sacrifice, is the safest guide in the path of life. Perhaps, ignorant as we are of our nature and destination, it is not our interest that uninterrupted rewards should excite us to virtue; for if this virtue were our title and hope with God for the present, and the time to come, we ought not to desire that it should degenerate into an evident calculation, into a sentiment bordering on selfishness. It would then be very difficult to give a proper definition of liberty, if, by the effect of rapid justice, a constant proportion of good and evil, accompanied every determination of our mind; we should then, morally as well as physically, be impelled by an imperious instinct, and the merit of our actions would be absolutely destroyed.

I mean by all this to ask, what would be our merit or demerit, if our life is only for an instant, and if nothing is to follow? The persuasion of the existence of a God, without a certainty of the immortality of our soul, cannot impose any obligation; but the real connexion between these two ideas is too frequently overlooked.

Undoubtedly, left to our understanding, this word certainty is not made for us, or at least it is not applicable to our relation with the Deity, and to the judgment we form of his designs and will. We are too far removed from the High and lofty One, who inhabiteth eternity, to pretend to measure His thoughts by our bounded views. They are covered with a veil, and we always obscurely discern that which is hid in the depths of His wisdom: but the more this God, whom we adore, escapes by His immensity from our conceptions, the less have we a right to limit His perfections, in order to refuse Him the power of transporting our existence beyond the narrow circle submitted to our view; and I know not how it would be possible to persuade us, that this action of the Deity would surpass in grandeur the creation of the world, or the formation of animated beings: the habit of observing a great wonder may weaken our astonishment, but should not eradicate our admiration.

We cannot reach, but by reflection, to those events of which the future is still the depository; but if every thing which surrounds us attests the grandeur of the Supreme Being; if the mind, in its meditations, without terror, approaches the confines of infinity, why mistrust that he can perform in favour of men, a magnificent union of Omnipotence and perfect goodness? Why reject, as an absurd confidence, the idea of another existence? We see, without astonishment, the feeble chrysalis force its way from the tomb it wove for itself, and appear under a new form. We cannot be anticipated witnesses of the perpetuity of our intelligence; but its vast extent would appear to us, were we not familiarized with it, a greater phœnomenon than duration.

In short, why do I resist an idea of a continuation of existence, since I am forced to give credit to my birth? There is a greater distance from nothing to life, than from life to its sequel, or renewal under a new form: I am clearly acquainted with the commencement of existence, I know death only by conjecture. We now enjoy the light and blessings brought to us by a beneficent heavenly Teacher; could it be, that he alone would be a stranger to his own glory and virtues? I cannot say, why this contrast makes an impression on me; but it is among the number of superficial ideas which occur to my mind, when I reflect on this subject.

A comforting thought still strikes me, the natural order of the universe appears to me a finished system: we perceive a perfect regularity between the revolution of the heavenly bodies, an invariable succession in vegetable life, an almost incredible precision in that immense quantity of volatile particles submitted to the laws of affinity; and think every thing in its right place, and that all fulfil exactly their destination in the grand and complete system of nature.