of man’s morals, than the imaginary principles
of Divine and theological morals? Would ordinary
men have as much trouble in understanding the simple
notions of their duties, as in charging their memories
with mysteries, unintelligible words, and obscure
definitions which are impossible for them to understand?
How much time and trouble is lost in trying to teach
men things which are of no use to them. What resources
for the public benefit, for encouraging the progress
of the sciences and the advancement of knowledge,
for the education of youth, are presented to well-meaning
sovereigns through so many monasteries, which, in a
great number of countries devour the people’s
substance without an equivalent. But superstition,
jealous of its exclusive empire, seems to have formed
but useless beings. What advantage could not be
drawn from a multitude of cenobites of both sexes
whom we see in so many countries, and who are so well
paid to do nothing. Instead of occupying them
with sterile contemplations, with mechanical prayers,
with monotonous practices; instead of burdening them
with fasts and austerities, let there be excited among
them a salutary emulation that would inspire them to
seek the means of serving usefully the world, which
their fatal vows oblige them to renounce. Instead
of filling the youthful minds of their pupils with
fables, dogmas, and puerilities, why not invite or
oblige the priests to teach them true things, and
so make of them citizens useful to their country?
The way in which men are brought up makes them useful
but to the clergy, who blind them, and to the tyrants,
who plunder them.
The adherents of credulity often accuse the unbelievers
of bad faith because they sometimes waver in their
principles, changing opinions during sickness, and
retracting them at the hour of death. When the
body is diseased, the faculty of reasoning is generally
disturbed also. The infirm and decrepit man,
in approaching his end, sometimes perceives himself
that reason is leaving him, he feels that prejudice
returns. There are diseases which have a tendency
to lessen courage, to make pusillanimous, and to enfeeble
the brain; there are others which, in destroying the
body, do not affect the reason. However, an unbeliever
who retracts in sickness, is not more rare or more
extraordinary than a devotionist who permits himself,
while in health, to neglect the duties that his religion
prescribes for him in the most formal manner.
Cleomenes, King of Sparta, having shown little respect
for the Gods during his reign, became superstitious
in his last days; with the view of interesting Heaven
in his favor, he called around him a multitude of
sacrificing priests. One of his friends expressing
his surprise, Cleomenes said: “What are
you astonished at? I am no longer what I was,
and not being the same, I can not think in the same
way.”