Of the importance of religious opinions

What a time have I chosen to entertain the world with morality and religion! and what a theatre is this for such an undertaking! Only to conceive it is a great proof of courage; every one is employed about his harvest; lives in his affairs; is lost in the present instant, all the rest appears chimerical. When I was formerly engrossed by cares for the public welfare, and writing on my favourite subject, I could draw the attention of men by a series of reflections on their own fortunes and on the power of their country; it was in the name of their most ardent passions that I engaged them to listen to me; but in treating the subject I have now made choice of, it is their natural dispositions, now almost effaced, that I must address: thus I feel the necessity of re-animating the sentiments which I wish to direct, and giving birth to the interest I desire to enlighten. And when I fix my attention on the actual course of opinions, I fear to have for judges, either men who are indifferent to the subject, or who are too severe in their censurers; but the reflections of vanity are trivial to the motives which have guided me; and provided any of my thoughts have agreed with the inclinations of feeling minds, and added something to their happiness, I shall enjoy the sweetest reward. Such a wish I formed, when, with a weak hand, I ventured to trace some reflections on the importance of religious opinions.

The more we know of the world, its phantoms, and vain enchantments, the more do we feel the want of a grand idea to elevate the soul above discouraging events which continually occur. When we run after honours, fame, and gratitude, we find every where illusions and mistakes; and it is our lot to experience those disappointments which proceed from the infirmities or the passions of men. If we leave our vessel in the harbour, the success of others dazzles and disturbs us; if we spread our sails, we are the plaything of the winds: activity in action, ardour, and indifference, all have their cares and difficulties; no person is sheltered from the caprices of fortune, and when we have reached the summit of our wishes, when we have by chance attained the object of our ambition, sadness and languor are preparing to frustrate our hopes, and dissipate the enchantment: nothing is perfect except for a moment; nothing is durable but change; it is necessary then to have interest in with those immutable ideas which are not the work of man, which do not depend on a transient opinion: they are offered to all, and are equally useful in the moment of triumph and the day of defeat; they are, as we need them, our consolation, our encouragement, and our guide. What strength, what splendour, those ideas would soon have, if, considered as the best support of order and morality, men would try to render them more efficacious, in the same manner as we see the citizens of a political society concur, in proportion to their faculties, to promote the welfare of the state. A new scene would open before us; men of learning, far from following the counsels of vanity, far from searching to destroy the most salutary belief of men, would, on the contrary, allot for their defence a portion of their noblest powers; we should see the penetrating metaphysician eager to refer to the common treasure of our hopes, the light which he perceives through the continuity of his meditations, and the perspicacity of his mind: we should see the attentive observer of nature occupied with the same idea, animated by the same interest; we should see him, in the midst of his labours, seize with avidity every thing which could add any support to the first principle of all religions; we should see him detach from his discoveries, appropriate, with a kind of love, all that tended to strengthen the happiest persuasion and most sublime of thoughts. The profound moralist, the philosophic legislator, would concur in the same design; and in such a grand enterprize, men, merely endowed with an ardent imagination, would be like those wanderers, who, when they return home, talk of some unknown riches. There are ways in the moral, as well as in the physical world, which lead to unknown secrets; and the harvest which may be gathered in the vast empire of nature is as extensive as diversified. How excellent would be the union of every mind towards this magnificent end! In this view, I represent sometimes to myself, with respect, a society of men distinguished by their character and genius, only employed to receive and place in order the ideas proper to augment our confidence in the most precious opinion. There are thoughts conceived by solitary men which are lost to mankind, because they have not had the talent to connect a system; and if those thoughts were to be united to some other knowledge, if they were to come like a grain of sand, to strengthen the banks raised on our shore, the following generations would transmit a richer heritage. We sometimes register with pomp a new word, introduced into the language, and men of the most exalted genius of the age are called to be present at that ceremony: would it not be a more noble enterprize to examine, to choose, and consecrate the ideas or observations proper to enlighten us in our most essential researches? One of those researches would better deserve a wreath, than any work of eloquence or literature.

Let us suppose, for a moment, that in the most ancient empire of the world there might have been priests, from time immemorial, who guarded the deposit of all the original ideas which served to support the opinion of the existence of a God, and the sentiment of the immortality of the soul; and that, from time to time, every new discovery, calculated to increase the confidence due to these most necessary truths, was inscribed in a religious testament, called the book of happiness and hope; how highly should we value it, and how eagerly desire to be acquainted with it; and with what respect should we approach the ancient temple, in which those superb archives were deposited. But, on the contrary, could we imagine another retreat, where subtle arguments and artificial discourses were collected, by which some endeavour to destroy or shake those holy opinions which unite the universe to an intelligent thought, to a sublime wisdom; and the fate of men to infinite goodness, who amongst us would wish to enter into that dark abode? who would wish to explore that fatal register? Let us learn to know our nature better, and through the delirium of our blind passions discover its wants: it is a God we feel the want of, a God, such as religion presents; a God, powerful and good, the first source of happiness, and who only can secure it to the human race: let us open all our faculties to that splendid light, that our hearts and minds may welcome it, and find pleasure in widely diffusing it. Let us be penetrated in our youth, by the only idea ever necessary to our peace: let us strengthen it when in our full vigour, that it may support us in the decline of life. Ravishing beauties of the universe, what would ye be to us without this thought? Majestic power of the human mind, astonishing wonders of the thinking faculty, what could it represent if we separated it from its noble origin? Souls affectionate and impassioned, what would become of you without hope? Pardon, O Master of the world, if not sufficiently sensible of my own weakness, and abandoning myself only to the emotions of my heart, I have undertaken to speak to men of Thy existence, Thy grandeur, and Thy goodness! Pardon me if, lately agitated by the tumultuous waves of passion, I dare to raise my thoughts to the realms of eternal peace, where Thou more particularly exhibits Thy glory and sovereign power. Ah! I know more than ever that we must love Thee, we must serve Thee. The powerful of the earth exalt and depress their favourites capriciously; there is no relying on them; after profiting by the talents devoted to them, they forsake the victim, or crush him like a reed. There is in the universe but one immutable justice, but one perfect goodness and consolatory thought: yet we go continually towards other coasts, where we call for happiness, but it is not to be found: there are phantoms accustomed to deceive men, who answer when they call: we run towards them, and pursue them, and we leave far behind religious opinions, which only can lead us back to nature, and elevate us to its author. The blind passions of the world, and the devouring desires of fame and fortune, only serve to harden us; every thing is selfish and hostile in them. Ambitious men, who only wish for a vain name, a childish triumph, acknowledge your features in this sketch; a single object engrosses you, a single end fixes your views: the heavens may be obscured; the earth covered with darkness; and the future annihilated before you; and you are satisfied if a weak taper still permits you to discern the homage of those who surround you; but how is it possible to expect thus to pass a whole life? how be able to retain that homage which appears so necessary to your dream of happiness? how can you make stationary what so many concur to demand? We have a more rational certainty of happiness, when a sentiment of piety, enlightened in its principle and action, softens all our passions, and bends them, in some measure, to the laws of our destiny. Piety, such as I form an idea of, may be properly represented as a vigilant friend, tender and rational. It lets us see the various blessings of life; but it recals us to the idea of gratitude, in order to augment our happiness, by referring it to the most generous of all benefactors: it allows us to exercise our faculties and talents; but recals us to the idea of morality and virtue, in order to assure our steps, and shield us from regret: it allows us to run the race of glory or ambition; but recals us to the idea of inconstancy and instability, to preserve us from a fatal intoxication: it is always with us, not to disturb our felicity, not to impose useless privations, but to blend itself with our thoughts, and to unite to all our projects those mild and peaceable ideas which attend wisdom and moderation: in short, in the day of adversity, when our strength is broken, in which we have placed our confidence, piety comes to succour and console us; it shows us the nothingness of vanity and worldly illusions; it calms the remorse of our souls, by reminding us of a particular providence; it softens our regrets, by presenting more worthy hopes than any earthly object can afford, in order to engage our interest and fix our attention.

I am not led to these reflections by a temporary melancholy; I should be afraid of it, if I had not always had the same thoughts, and if the various circumstances of a life, often perturbed, had not led me to think of the necessity of attaching myself to some principle independent of men and events. Almost entirely alone at this instant, and thrown into solitude by an unforeseen accident, I experience, it is true^[10], more than ever, the want of those rational ideas, the representations of all that is great, and I approach with renewed interest the truths which I always loved; grand and sublime truths, which I have recommended to men at the moment when I see them more than ever inclined to neglect them. How mistaken are they in their calculations, they trust to-day in the strength of their minds, to-morrow they will find their weakness; they imagine, that in turning their views from the termination of life they remove the fatal boundary; but already the hand trembles on the dial to give the signal of their last moment. What a dire sacrifice we should make, if we gave up those consoling truths which still present to us a future, when all the bustle of life is over! We should again demand them, search for them with the most diligent anxiety, if ever the traces of them were unfortunately effaced.

All these ideas, some may say, are vague, and do not agree with the humour of the age; but at a certain distance from the field of ambition and vanity, is there any thing to every one of us more vague than the passions of others? Are men employed about our interest? do they dream of our happiness? No, they are like ourselves; they seek for precedency; now and then indeed they pronounce the name of public good; but it is only a watch word which they have stolen, to be able to run over our ranks without danger. Where shall we find then a real tie? Where shall we find a universal rendezvous, if not in those unalterable ideas which are so consonant to our nature, which should equally interest us all, being suited to all without distinction; and which are ready to welcome us when we see the folly of earthly pursuits? They may not, indeed, gratify the childish wishes of the moment; but they relieve our anxiety about to-morrow, they are allied to objects of meditation which belong to our whole life, and above all, they unite us to that spirit which constitutes our true grandeur, to that sublime spirit, a few of whose relations only are yet discovered by us, and the full extent of whose power and goodness can be but faintly guessed at by finite beings.

I was engrossed by the last Cares which the Publication of this Book occasioned, when M. de Calonne’s Second Memorial made its Appearance. I have read it; and I here publicly engage to answer this new Attack, and fully to support the Credit which is justly due to the Account I presented to the King in 1781.