Section VIII.
The little, captious spirit of Voltaire, and other atheizing minute philosophers.
It will be objected, no doubt, that in the foregoing vindication of the divine holiness, we have taken for granted the Christian scheme of redemption; but it should be remembered, that we do not propose “to justify the ways of God to man” on deistical principles. We are fully persuaded, that if God had merely created the world, and remained satisfied to look down as an idle spectator upon the evils it had brought upon itself, his character and glory would not admit of vindication; and we should not have entered upon so chimerical an enterprise. We have attempted to reconcile the government of the world, as set forth in the system we maintain, and in no other, with the perfections of God; and whoever objects that this cannot be done, is bound, we insist, to take the system as it is in itself, and not as it is mangled and distorted by its adversaries. We freely admit, that if the Christian religion does not furnish the means of such a reconciliation, then we do not possess them, and are necessarily devoted to despair.
Here we must notice a very great inconsistency of atheists. They insist that if the world had been created by an infinitely perfect Being, he would not have permitted the least sin or disorder to arise in his dominions; yet, when they hear of any interposition on his part for the good of the world, they pour ridicule upon the idea of such intervention as wholly unworthy of the majesty of so august a Being. So weak and wavering are their notions, that it agrees equally well with their creed, that it becomes an infinitely perfect Being to do all things, and that it becomes him to do nothing! Can you believe that an omnipotent God reigns, says M. Voltaire, since he beholds the frightful evils of the world without putting forth his arm to redress them? Can you believe, asks the same philosopher, that so great a being, even if he existed, would trouble himself about the affairs of so insignificant a creature as man?
Such inconsistencies are hardly worthy of a philosopher, who possesses a wisdom so sublime, and a penetration so profound, as to authorize him to sit in judgment on the order and harmony of the universe. They are perfectly worthy, however, [pg 210] of the author of Candidus. The poison of this work consists, not in its argument, but in its ridicule. Indeed, it is not even an attempt at argument or rational criticism. The sole aim of the author seems to be to show the brilliancy of his wit, at the expense of “the best of all possible worlds;” and it must be confessed that he has shown it, though it be in the worst of all possible causes.
Instead of attempting to view the existence of evil in the light of any principle whatever, he merely accumulates evil upon evil; and when the mass has become sufficiently terrific, with the jeering mockery of a small fiend, he delights in the contemplation of the awful spectacle as a conclusive demonstration that the Ruler of the world is unequal to the government of his creatures. His book is merely an appeal to the ignorance and feelings of the reader, and can do no mischief, except when it may happen to find a weak head in union with a corrupt heart. For what does it signify that the castle of the Baron Thunder-ten-trock was not the most perfect of all possible castles; does this disprove the skill of the great Architect of the universe? Or what does it signify that Dr. Pangloss lost an eye; does this extinguish a single ray of the divine omniscience, or depose either of the great lights which God ordained to rule the world? Lastly, what does it signify that M. Voltaire, by a horrible abuse of his powers, should have extinguished the light of reason in his soul; does this disprove the goodness of that Being by whom those powers were given for a higher and a nobler purpose? A fracture in the dome of St. Paul's would, no doubt, present as great difficulties to an insect lost in its depths, as the disorders of this little world presented to the captious and fault-finding spirit of M. Voltaire; and would as completely shut out the order and design of the whole structure from its field of vision, as the order and design of the magnificent temple of the world was excluded from the mind of this very minute philosopher.