Weishaupt grants, that "there will be a terrible convulsion, and a storm—but this will be succeeded by a calm—the unequal will now be equal—and when the cause of dissension is thus removed, the world will be in peace."—True, when the causes of dissension are removed. Thus, the destruction of our crop by vermin is at an end when a flood has swept every thing away—but as new plants will spring up in the waste, and, if not instantly devoured, will again cover the ground with verdure, so the industry of man, and his desire of comfort and consideration, will again accumulate in the hands of the diligent a greater proportion of the good things of life. In this infant state of the emerging remains of former cultivation, comforts, which the present inhabitants of Europe would look on with contempt, will be great, improper, and hazardous acquisitions. The principles which authorise the proposed dreadful equalisation will as justly entitle the idle or unsuccessful of future days to strip the possessor of his advantages, and things must ever remain on their savage level.
III. I think that the impression which the insincerity of conduct of those instructors will leave on the mind, must be highly useful. They are evidently teaching what they do not believe themselves—and here I do not confine my remark to their preparatory doctrines, which they afterwards explode. I make it chiefly with respect to their grand ostensible principle, which pervades the whole, a principle which they are obliged to adopt against their will.—They know that the principles of virtue are rooted in the heart, and that they can only be smothered—but did they pretend to eradicate them and proclaim hominem homini lupum, all would spurn at their instruction. We are wheedled, by tickling our fancy with a notion that sacred virtue is not only secure, but that it is only in such hearts that it exerts its native energy. Sensible that the levelling maxims now spoken of are revolting to the mind, the Illuminators are under the necessity of keeping us from looking at the shocking picture, by displaying a beautiful scene of Utopian happiness—and they rock us asleep by the eternal lullaby of morality and universal philanthropy. Therefore the foregoing narration of the personal conduct of these instructors and reformers of the world, is highly useful. All this is to be brought about by the native loveliness of pure virtue, purged of the corruptions which superstitious fears have introduced, and also purged of the selfish thoughts which are avowed by the advocates of what their opponents call true religion. This is said to hold forth eternal rewards to the good, and to threaten the wicked with dreadful punishment. Experience has shown how inefficient such motives are. Can they be otherwise? say our Illuminators. Are they not addressed to a principle that is ungenerous and selfish? But our doctrines, say they, touch the hearts of the worthy. Virtue is beloved for her own sake, and all will yield to her gentle sway. But look, Reader, look at Spartacus the murderer, at Cato the keeper of poisons and the thief—Look at Tiberius, at Alcibiades, and the rest of the Bavarian Pandemonium. Look at poor Bahrdt. Go to France—look at Lequinio, at Condorcet[26]. Look at the Monster Orleans.——All were liars. Their divinity had no influence on their profligate minds. They only wanted to wheedle you, by touching the strings of humanity and goodness which are yet braced up in your heart, and which still yield sweet harmony if you will accompany their notes with those of religion, and neither clog them with the groveling pleasures of sense, nor damp the whole with the thought of eternal silence.
A most worthy and accomplished gentleman, who took refuge in this country, leaving behind him his property, and friends to whom he was most tenderly attached, often said to me that nothing so much affected him as the revolution in the hearts of men.—Characters which were unspotted, hearts thoroughly known to himself, having been tried by many things which search the inmost folds of selfishness or malevolence—in short, persons whose judgments were excellent, and on whose worth he could have rested his honour and his life, so fascinated by the contagion, that they came at last to behold, and even to commit the most atrocious crimes with delight.—He used sometimes to utter a sigh which pierced my heart, and would say, that it was caused by some of those things that had come across his thoughts. He breathed his last among us, declaring that it was impossible to recover peace of mind, without a total oblivion of the wickedness and miseries he had beheld.—What a valuable advice, "Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall."—When the prophet told Hazael that he would betray his Prince, he exclaimed, "Is thy servant a dog, that he should do such a thing?" Yet next day he murdered him.
Never since the beginning of the world, has true religion received so complete an acknowledgment of her excellence, as has been extorted from the fanatics who have attempted to destroy her. Religion stood in their way, and the wretch Marat, as well as the steady villain Weishaupt, saw that they could not proceed till they had eradicated all sentiments of the moral government of the universe. Human nature, improved as it has been by religion, shrunk from the talks that were imposed, and it must therefore be brutalized—The grand confederation was solemnly sworn to by millions in every corner of France—but, as Mirabeau said of the declaration of the Rights of Man, it must be made only the "Almanack of the bygone year"—Therefore Lequinio must write a book, declaring oaths to be nonsense, unworthy of San Culottes, and all religion to be a farce. Not long after, they found that they had some use for a God—but he was gone—and they could not find another. Their constitution was gone—and they have not yet found another. What is now left them on which they can depend for awing a man into a respect for truth in his judicial declarations? what but the honour of a Citizen of France, who laughs at all engagements, which he has broken again and again? Religion has taken off with her every sense of human duty. What can we expect but villainy from an Archbishop of Paris and his chapter, who made a public profession that they had been playing the villains for many years, teaching what they thought to be a bundle of lies? What but the very thing which they have done, cutting each other's throats?—Have not the enlightened citizens of France applauded the execution of their fathers? Have not the furies of Paris denounced their own children? But turn your eyes from the horrifying spectacle, and think on your own noble descent and alliance. You are not the accidental productions of a fatal chaos, but the work of a Great Artist, creatures that are cared for, born to noble prospects, and conducted to them by the plainest and most simple precepts, "to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly before God," not bewildered by the false and fluttering glare of French Philosophy, but conduced by this clear, single light, perceivable by all, "Do to others what you should reasonably expect them to do to you."
Think not the Muse whose sober voice you hear,
Contracts with bigot frown her fallen brow,
Casts round Religion's orb the mists of Fear,
Or shades with horror what with smiles should glow.
No—she would warn you with seraphic fire,
Heirs as ye are of Heaven's eternal day,
Would bid you boldly to that Heaven aspire,
Not sink and slumber in your cells of clay.
Is this the bigot's rant? Away, ye vain,
Your doubts, your fears, in gloomy dulness steep;
Go—soothe your souls in sickness, death, or pain,
With the sad solace of eternal sleep.
Yet know, vain sceptics, know, th' Almighty Mind,
Who breath'd on man a portion of his fire,
Bade his free soul, by earth nor time confin'd,
To Heaven, to immortality aspire.
Nor shall this pile of hope his bounty rear'd,
By vain philosophy be e'er destroy'd;
Eternity, by all or hop'd or fear'd,
Shall be by all or suffer'd or enjoy'd.
Mason.