Page:Sermons by John-Baptist Massillon.djvu/397

 the horrors  of  their  life  and  the  infamy  of  their  passions;  that  all finished with  them;  and  that,  beyond  the  grave,  there  were  no  supreme and  eternal  Judge,  the  punisher  of  vice  and  the  rewarder  of virtue:  they  wish  it;  they  destroy  as  much  as  they  can,  through the impious  wishes  of  their  heart,  but  they  cannot  efface  from  the foundation of  their  being,  the  idea  of  his  power  and  the  dread  of his  punishments.

In effect,  it  would  be  too  vulgar  for  a  man,  vain  and  plunged  in debauchery,  inwardly  to  say  to  himself,  I  am  still  too  weak,  and too much  abandoned  to  pleasure,  to  quit  it,  or  to  lead  a  more  regular and  Christian  life. That pretext  would  still  leave  all  his  remorses. It is  much  sooner  done  to  say  to  himself,  It  is  needless  to live  otherwise,  for  there  is  nothing  after  this  life. This pretext  is far  more  convenient,  for  it  puts  an  end  to  every  thing;  it  is  the most favourable  to  indolence,  for  it  estranges  us  from  the  sacraments, and  from  all  the  other  slaveries  of  religion. It is  much shorter to  say  to  himself,  "  There  is  nothing/5  and  to  live  as  if  he were  in  effect  persuaded  of  it;  it  is  at  once  throwing  off  every  yoke and  all  restraint;  it  puts  an  end  to  all  the  irksome  measures  which sinners  of  another  description  still  guard  with  religion  and  with the  conscience.  This  pretext  of  unbelief,  by  persuading  us  that we  actually  doubt,  leaves  us  in  a  certain  state  of  indolence  on every  thing  regarding  religion,  which  prevents  us  from  searching into  ourselves  and  from  making  too  melancholy  reflections  on  our passions.  We  meanly  allow  ourselves  to  be  swept  away  by  the fatal  course,  upon  the  general  prepossession  that  we  believe  nothing; we  have  few  remorses,  for  we  think  ourselves  unbelievers, and  because  that  supposition  leaves  us  almost  the  same  security  as impiety:  at  least,  it  is  a  diversion  which  dulls  and  suspends  the sensibility of  the  conscience;  and,  by  operating  so  as  to  make  us always  take  ourselves  for  what  we  are  not,  it  induces  us  to  live  as  if we  actually  were  what  we  wish  to  be.

That is  to  say,  that  the  greatest  part  of  these  pretended  freethinkers, and  of  these  debauched  and  licentious  unbelievers,  ought to be  considered  as  weak  and  dissolute  men,  who,  not  having  the force to  live  Christianly,  nor  even  the  hardiness  to  be  atheists, remain in  that  state  of  estrangement  from  religion,  as  the  most  convenient to  indolence;  and,  as  they  never  try  to  quit  it,  they  fancy that they  actually  hold  to  it;  it  is  a  kind  of  neutrality  between  faith and irreligion,  contrived  by  indolence  for  its  own  ease;  for  it  requires exertion  to  adopt  a  side;  and,  in  order  to  remain  neuter, nothing more  is  required  than  not  to  think,  and  to  live  by  habit; thus they  never  fathom,  nor  take  any  resolution  upon  themselves. Hardened and  avowed  impiety  hath  something  I  know  not  what, which strikes  with  horror:  religion  on  the  other  hand,  presents  objects which alarm  and  are  by  no  means  convenient  to  the  passions. What is to  be  done  in  these  two  extremities,  of  which  the  one  shocks reason and  the  other  the  senses? They rest  wavering  and  undecided;  in  the  mean  time  they  enjoy  the  calm  which  is  left  by  that state of  indecision  and  indifference:  they  live  without  wishing  to