Part 20

Religion, beside, in order to fix our determinations, strengthens the authority of conscience: she saw, that every one of us has within himself a judge, the most severe and clear-sighted, and that it is sufficient to submit to its laws to be instructed in our duty; for it is our hidden thoughts that this judge examines, and nothing is excused, no subterfuge admitted.

It is not the same with those censures which we exercise towards others, the simple actions only strike us; and the different motives they result from, the emotions, the conflicts which accompany them, and the regret, the repentance, which follow them, all these essential characteristics escape our penetration: thus religion, always wise, always benevolent in its counsels, forbids our forming hasty and precipitate judgments; and we cannot read, without emotion, that lesson of indulgence so mildly addressed to the crowd which surrounded the woman taken in adultery, _he that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her_. But how resist being affected by admiration, when we see religion so warmly employed about the fate of those whom the suspicions or false accusations of men have dragged before their tribunals? by declaring that it is better to let a hundred culprits escape punishment, than run the risk of condemning a single person unjustly. This tender anxiety corresponds with every sentiment of our hearts. Innocence delivered to infamy, innocence encompassed with all the horrors of an execution, is the most dreadful sight that the imagination can present; and we are so struck by it, that we should be almost disposed to think, that before the Supreme Being the whole human race is responsible for such a crime: yes, it is under Thy protection, O my God, that unknown virtue and injured innocence take shelter; men turn towards Thee for comfort when pursued by men, and it is not in vain that they trust in that awful day when all shall be judged before Thee.

I wish only to dwell on the particular character of the Christian religion, as it proportions the merit of our actions, not to the grandeur or importance of them; but to the relation that they have with our abilities, it is an idea absolutely new: this system, which presents the same motives and rewards to the weak and strong, remarked the widow’s mite, as well as the generous sacrifices of opulence; this system, as just as rational, animates, in some measure, our whole moral nature, and seems to inform us, that a vast circle of good actions and social virtues are submitted to the same rules, as the immense domain of physical nature, in which the simplest flower, or the most insignificant plant, concurs to perfect the designs of the Supreme Being, and composes one part of the harmonious universe.

The superintendance of the Christian religion extends still further than I can point out; and guided by a spirit not to be equalled, it estimates our intentions, obscure dispositions, and internal determinations, often separated from action by different obstacles: it directs men, in some measure, from their first sentiments and designs; it continually reminds them of the presence of God; warns them to watch over themselves, when their inclinations are but dawning, before they have gained strength; in short, at an early hour it forms the mind to the exercise of virtue, by discriminating virtue and vice, and reminding us to cultivate a love of order and propriety before the active scenes of life force those sentiments to appear conspicuously displayed in actions.

But the more the methods of meriting the divine approbation are multiplied, the more essential is it that our confidence should not be depressed, every instant, by the sentiment which arises from the experience of our errors; it is necessary, that at the moments, too frequent, when the chain which unites us to the Supreme Being would escape from our grasp, the hope of again seizing it should remain with us: it is then to succour our weak faith, that we see in the gospel that idea at once so excellent and new, that of repentance and the promises which are annexed to it. This noble idea, absolutely belonging to Christianity, prevents our relation with the Deity from being destroyed as soon as it is perceived; the culprit may still hope for the favour of God, and after contrition confide in Him. Human nature, that singular connexion of the spirit with matter, of strength with weakness, of reason with the imagination, persuasion with doubt, and will with uncertainty, necessarily requires a legislation appropriated to a constitution so extraordinary: man, in his most improved state, resembles an infant, who attempts to walk, and falls, rises and falls again; and he would soon be lost to morality, if, after his first fault, he had not any hope of repairing it; under a similar point of view, the idea of repentance is one of the most philosophical which the gospel contains.

That pressing recommendation to do good in secret, without ostentation, is the result of a salutary and profound thought: the legislator of our religion undoubtedly had perceived that the praises of men was not a basis sufficiently steady to serve for the support of morality; and he discerned, that vanity, allowed to enjoy these kind of triumphs, was too dissipated to be a faithful guide; but the most important part of that precept is, that morality would be very circumscribed, if men only adhered to those just actions which all the world might see; there are not many opportunities to do good in public, and the whole of life may be filled by unseen virtues: in short, from that continual relation with our conscience, a relation instituted by religion, there results an inestimable benefit; for it is easy to perceive, that if we have within us a clear-sighted and severe judge, this same judge turns consoler and friend every time that we are unjustly condemned, or when events do not answer according to the purity of our intentions; and we believe then that we have almost two souls, one aiding and sustaining the other on every occasion in which virtue unites them.

The severe censure of superstition, which we find throughout the gospel, is derived from an idea as reasonable as enlightened; men are too much disposed to make their religion consist of little exterior practices, always easier than the conflicts with and triumphs over the passions: our minds seize with avidity every extraordinary idea; when they are in part of our own creating, they aid our self-love to subjugate our imagination; man is not at the age of maturity terrified by those phantoms which annoy his infancy; but mysteries, occult causes, extraordinary appearances, continue to make an impression on his mind; and like the wonders of nature, form too large a circle round his thoughts; it is by ideas more proportioned to his strength, by mere superstition, that he permits himself often to be led captive: we love trivial commands, observances, and scruples, because we are little ourselves, and that in our weakness we would wish to know every instant the limits of our obligations.

Sometimes, persons terrified by their imaginations, or by the confused picture which they form of the duties of religion, attach themselves to superstitious practices as a safeguard near at hand which may quickly guard them from the different anxieties of their minds. The precepts of the gospel are designed to destroy these dispositions; for on one side, they facilitate the study of morality, by reducing to simple principles the entire system of our duties; and on the other, they seek to render our intercourse with the Supreme Being more easy, by teaching us that we may unite ourselves to Him by the expansion of a pure mind; by informing us, that it is not either on Mount Sion or Gerizim that we are to raise an altar; but that every honest heart is a temple, where the eternal is adored _in spirit and in truth_. The Christian religion is the only one which, discarding ceremonies and superstitious opinions, leads us to the worship more consonant to our nature: Christianity indeed, in that grand thought, has pointed out the dictates of our conscience as most worthy of respect; benevolence, as the worship most agreeable to the Supreme Being, and all our moral conduct as the most certain prognostic of our future state. There reigns a profound philosophy in the doctrines of the gospel, men have only added a vain pageantry, a more sounding tone.

Let us render homage to Christianity, for that sacred tie which it has formed, in uniting not for a moment, but for the whole of life, the fate of two beings, one having need of support, and the other of comfort: it is religion which refines this alliance by rendering it immutable, and obliges men not to sacrifice to the caprices of their imaginations the unity and confidence which secures the repose of families, order in the disposition of fortunes, the peaceable education of the succeeding generation, and which, in giving to children, for an example, a union formed by fidelity and duty, implants in their hearts the seeds of the most important virtues; religion has taught us, that the friendships of a world, in which selfishness reigns, have need of being cemented by that community of interests and honours which marriage only gives us an idea of; holy union, alliance without equal, which renders still more valuable all the blessings of life, which seems to augment our hopes, and fortify in us the comfortable thoughts and mild confidence which piety gives birth to: the engagements entered into between men, which being, for the most part, sounded on reciprocal services, a time might come, when our weakness would be so great, others having no more interest to associate with us, it might be necessary to find a support in that friendship which time has matured, and of which a sentiment of duty repairs the breaches, and which acquires a kind of sanctity from the habit and the remembrance of a long and happy union: it is religion in, short, which has ordained, that the delicate virtue, the most excellent ornament of a weak and timid sex, should only be subject to the ascendency of the most generous and faithful sentiment.

These principles, indeed, are not formed for corrupt hearts; but the service which religion renders, the end which it proposes, is to assist us to combat our depraved dispositions; it is to point out the errors and the snares of vice; it is to preserve, amongst us, the sacred deposit of principles, which are the foundation of public order, and still maintain some light to illuminate the path of wisdom and true happiness.

Religion recals us continually to those universal duties which we describe under the name of good morals; duties that men would often inconsiderately wish to separate from public interest, but which, however, are bound to it by so many almost imperceptible and secret ties. Every act of wisdom and virtue is not of immediate importance to society; but morality must be cultivated by degrees, and fortified by habit, as it is like those delicate plants which we rear with a kind of fondness to preserve their beauty; if we make a distinction between personal, domestic, and public manners, in order to neglect, as we find convenient, one part of our duty, we shall lose the charm of it, and every day virtue will appear more difficult.

There is, I think, a connexion, more or less apparent, between every thing good and worthy of esteem; and it seems to me, that this idea has something amiable, which confusedly satisfies our most generous dispositions and most comfortable hopes: and if, to sustain a truth so important, I was permitted to interrogate the young man, whose virtues and talents are the most remarkable in Europe, I should ask him, if he did not experience that his filial tenderness, the regularity of his domestic life, the purity of his thoughts, and all his rare private qualities, are not united to the noble sentiments which make him appear with so much splendour as a statesman? But without dwelling on such instances, who has not been sometimes struck with the beauty attached to that simplicity and modesty of manners which we often find in an obscure situation? We then manifestly discover, that there exists a kind of agreement and dignity, I could almost say, a kind of grandeur, independent of refined language, polished manners, and all those advantages due to birth, to rank, and fortune.

I have only glanced over the benefits arising from the Christian religion; but I cannot avoid observing, that we owe to it a consoling idea, that of the felicity reserved for innocent babes; interesting and precious hope for those tender mothers, who see slip from their embraces the objects of their love, at an age when they have not acquired any merit before the Supreme Being, whom they cannot have any relation with, but through His infinite goodness. I feel that I involuntarily mix with the elogiums of Christianity a sentiment of gratitude for the mild and paternal ideas which are disseminated with its instructions; and there is something remarkable in those instructions, that they are continually animated by every thing which can captivate our imagination, and associate with our natural inclinations. Sensibility, happiness, and hope, are the strongest ties of a heart still pure; and all the emotions which elevate towards the idea of a God exalt in our minds the doctrine of morality, which recals us continually to the sublime perfections of Him who was its author.

In short, we cannot avoid admiring the spirit of moderation, which forms one of the distinct characteristics of the gospel; we do not always find, it is true, the same spirit in the interpreters of the Christian doctrines; several constrained by a false zeal, and more disposed to speak in the name of a threatening master, than in that of a God, full of wisdom and goodness, have frequently exaggerated and multiplied the duties of men; and to support their system, they have often obscured the natural sense, or the general import of the precepts contained in the scriptures; and sometimes also, collecting a few scattered words, they have formed a body of divinity, foreign in several respects to the intention of the apostles and first Christians. Servants always go further than their masters; and as the first thought does not belong to them, they only act by adding something heterogeneous: the spirit of moderation consists, beside, in a kind of proportion, which mere imitators have only an imperfect knowledge of; fortitude is even necessary to impose limits on virtue itself; and to determine the precise and exact measure of the multiplied duties of men requires a profound and sublime intelligence. It was by his sublime precepts that the institutor of a universal morality shewed himself superior to that age of ignorance in which extremes reigned; when piety was changed into superstition, justice into rigour, indulgence into weakness; and when, in the exaggeration of every sentiment, a kind of merit was sought for incompatible with the immutable laws of wisdom: it was by those sublime precepts, in short, that a legislator rose above transitory opinions to command all times and ages, and that he appears to have been desirous to adapt his instructions, not to the instantaneous humour of a people, but to the nature of man.

We shall, beside, find easily in the gospel several characteristics proper, essentially to distinguish it from philosophic doctrines; but in an examination so serious and important I avoid every observation which might appear to the greater number a simple research of the understanding; it is the grand features only which belong to grand things, and any other manner would not agree with a subject so worthy of our respect. I must say, however, that when I am left alone to reflect with attention on the different parts of the gospel, I have experienced, that, independent of general ideas and particular precepts which lead us every instant to profound admiration, there reigns, beside, in the whole of that sublime morality, a spirit of goodness, of truth, and wisdom, of which all the characters can only be perceived by our sensibility, by that faculty of our nature which does not separate objects, which does not wait to define; but which penetrates, as by a kind of instinct, almost to that love, the origin of every thing, and that indefinite model from which every generous intention and grand thought has taken its first form.

CHAP. XVIII. _Conclusion._

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

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