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kind, in boldly maintaining that he is such as he ought to be, and that, if he feel some tendency contrary to virtue, this tendency is nothing more than the effect of his free will, such a man may, perchance, impose upon some or other person, but he is, I am sure, mistaken, if he imagines that, because this is one of those intimate truths that are felt, the same can never be demonstrated by reason. I call him to experience; let him answer; here is what I shall ask him: Do men, men I say, of all times, of all nations, of all countries, do what they know they ought to do? Do they apply to virtue, for the practice of which they feel themselves to have been infallibly designed? Do they recoil with horror from that which they naturally know they ought to fly? Certainly, the bare shadow of sincerity will force any one to confess, that too many, or almost all men, do what they know they ought not to do, and that they plunge themselves into disorders, into vices, into iniquities, which they likewise abhor and detest in others, and at times, when they come to reflect, even in themselves.But now, if men were naturally inclined to virtue, as they ought to be, they all, or nearly all, would, in fact, love their fellow-creatures; they would be just, sober, liberal, and closely attached to those virtues, which form the character of a man of principle, of an honest and social man, because, then an unusual effort of perverseness and malice would be required to overcome that blessed, innate, and natural inclination for order and virtue.

Suppose, moreover, it were possible, which is certainly not the case, that God could have created man, and designed him for a certain end, and afterwards have left him in a perfect indifference, nay, even in opposition to that same end; although it were conceived not repugnant, that God might have done this, still, I maintain it to be evident that he has not acted so, and that men are far from being found in that perfect indifference for vice and virtue; for it is an undoubted and infallible rule, that if all men, of all ages, of all nations, of all countries, were found to be in a perfect indifference for virtue and vice, at least the half of mankind would

be or would have been at some time virtuous and moral, but this is far from being the case at present, as experience sets it beyond a doubt; nor was it ever the case, as the annals of the world, in conjunction with all the monuments of antiquity, attest: man, therefore, was not created in that indifference. But if it be demonstrated by facts, that man is most certainly not in that perfect indifference for vice and virtue; if it be demonstrated by facts, that man has not within himself that inclination, that intimate tendency proportionate to virtue, the very same facts of all nations, of all ages and countries, as we have seen above, furnish an unquestionable and experi, mental proof, that man experiences a strong tendency and violent inclination, which carries him to disorders and wickedness; disorders, which he knows to be such by the light of his reason, which he abhors in his fellow-creatures, and which, when he considers abstractedly, and in themselves, he cannot refrain from detesting. Man views those disorders in their native wickedness; he approaches them, takes pleasure in them, and, like a passionate lover, he dissembles them, and falling at last asleep over them, loses himself. Poor man! how well dost thou know this humiliating truth! Or wilt thou, perhaps, for a greater demonstration of thy misery, and of thy blindness, obstinately deny it? But tell me is it not true, that if you were naturally inclined to what is good, you would have to make a great effort to abandon virtue? And is it not true, that precisely because you are naturally tending to corruption, to evil, to iniquity, you stand, on the contrary, in need of a very painful effort to soar up to virtue, and to become familiarized with certain indispensable acts of virtue? Will you, indeed, be able to deny so certain, so evident a truth, a truth which you every day feel in the inmost recesses of your heart? Is it not likewise true, that a perfect indifference to both vice and virtue, would naturally carry with it an equal facility for the practice of the one as well as the other? And, in fine, is it not true, that the road of virtue is of itself very difficult, and that of vice, on the contrary, plain, sweet, and easy, for no other reason, assuredly, but because No. II.

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your corrupt and depraved nature tends to this with pleasure, and shrinks from the former with horror? Let us, therefore, unhesitatingly conclude, that man, in his nature, is not such as he ought to be, because he has not a natural and sufficient aptness to know God, for whom he was created, and for whom he was designed; that man is not such as he ought to be, because he has not naturally a proportionate inclination for virtue, for which he was unquestionably designed, and in behalf of which reason speaks to man with such concern and energy; that, in fine, man finds himself naturally in a state opposite to that in which he ought to be, because, besides his not tending or being inclined to good, to virtue, he experiences a secret inclination that pushes him on, and urges him, as it were, to evil. But if man be not what he ought to be, he is certainly not such as he was created by God, and if he be not such as he was created by God, it necessarily follows that the nature ⚫ of man is depraved, vitiated, and corrupted.

This truth, therefore, stands demonstrated by reason; it causes itself to be felt by the intimate sense of the soul; it is confirmed by facts, and carried to the highest degree of evidence by an undeniable personal experience. Can we ask for more?

XXXV. First objection against the above truth.

If we attentively observe the nature of man, we shall find that it is not virtue he abhors, but the difficulty which the practice of virtue carries with it. Now, why should man, because he abhors the troublesomeness of virtue, be said not to be such as he ought to be?

This objection would carry some weight, if I had pretended to maintain, that man naturally abhors virtue; but, on the contrary, I say, that he is well pleased with it, that he delights in it, that he remains charmed and enraptured in beholding it; and that this is precisely a vestige of that first beauty, in which he was created; a vestige, which brings to his memory a happier state, viz: that of his orginal integrity. Nor do I deny

that man naturally abhors the trouble, which is annexed to the practice of virtue-and thus far we perfectly agree. Yes, man has no abhorrence of virtue, but only of the trouble, the difficulty, the labour, which the practice of it brings along with it. But I ask, why should the path of vir. tue itself be so rugged, so arduous, so almost impracticable to man, to man created for virtue, to man incessantly called to virtue by his reason, and, at times, by a certain weak, it is true, but most deep and secret impulse of his heart? This difficulty, this trouble, this labour, does not certainly originate in virtue itself, it is not intrinsically interwoven with its nature: virtue, in its true aspect, in its true point of view, points out an amiable, a desirable, and a most practicable road; therefore, this difficulty, this labour, and this trouble, resides in the nature of man. If the path of virtue be difficult to man, it is so, because man is too weak; if it be troublesome it is so, because his nature is not proportioned to it; if, finally, he find it arduous, it is so because his being was not naturally made for it but it is certain, it is self-evident and demonstrable, that man was made for virtue, that he was created by that Supreme Being, who can, in no manner whatever, make use of means which are disproportionate to the end; man, therefore, ought not to have been too weak for virtue, his nature ought not to have been formed out of the proper proportion for the same virtue; but if man be, at present, too weak; if, within himself, he discovers scarcely any proportion whatever for the exercise of virtue; he is not such as he ought to be, and, of course, he is certainly not such as he was created by God.

XXXVI. Another Objection.

All the great evils of man, all the astonishing contrarieties, which he imagines that he experiences in his own being, are, in fact, but so many natural effects, which must necessarily flow from a nature, which was created after such a manner as that of man was. What wonder, therefore, that man should

have such different wills and tendencies, since he is composed of two different substances, viz. a soul and a body. No doubt but those pretended contrarieties, which you term contradictions, are the necessary ingredients, which enter into the composition of man, who, like the rest of nature, is what he ought to be.

Behold here an objection, which must be cleared up. In order to penetrate thoroughly into its fallacy and maliciousness, I ask, what is my soul? It is that being which thinks in me. What is my body? It is that matter which is united to my soul, and through which the same soul receives all its impressions. The reason, therefore, of my different tendencies, will be found in my soul as well when she acts by her own intrinsic and spiritual activity, as when she suffers herself to be drawn and acted upon by the impressions which corporeal objects make upon her through the means of the senses. This point once settled: God has formed man of a soul and of a body, and thus has naturally subjected him to diverse tendencies. If by this word, diverse or different, we mean that man was made so as naturally to experience different tendencies, which should lead him, although by different ways, to the same end, I shall feel no difficulty in granting it. But this is not the point in question: the point under consideration is to see, whether there be in man diverse and opposite tendencies, which drag him along to diverse and opposite ends. If this be the case, and if we most intimately feel, that the spirit lusteth against the flesh, and the flesh against the spirit, if we prove this arduous and continual combat within ourselves, certainly there can be no reason whatever to persuade an upright man, that he is such as he ought to be, and of course, such as he was created by his Maker. Man was formed of matter and of spirit; but he ought assuredly to have been created in a state, in which perfect harmony would exist between matter and spirit. Man was directed to an end: but both the spirit and the matter ought, unquestionably, to have been directed by his Maker to the same end. This striking disorder, this inward discord, this eternal disunion, these different and opposite inclinations to

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