of humanity in many persons otherwise truly estimable, that they
have no compunctions at sacrificing the most enlightened men of the
nation because they could not be the most credulous or the most
submissive to the authority of the priests.

In a word, devotion is only calculated to fill the heart with a bitter
rancor, that banishes peace and harmony from society. In the matter
of religion, every one believes himself obliged to show more or less
ardor and zeal. Have I not often seen you uncertain yourself whether
you ought to sigh or smile at the self-depreciation of devotees
ridiculously inflamed by that religious vanity which grows out of
sectarian conventionalities? You also see them participating in
theological quarrels, in which, without comprehending their nature or
purport, they believe themselves conscientiously obliged to mingle. I
have a hundred times seen you astounded with their clamors, indignant
at their animosity, scandalized at their cabals, and filled with
disdain at their obstinate ignorance. Yet nothing is more natural than
these outbreaks; ignorance has always been the mother of devotion. To
be a devotee has always been synonymous to having an imbecile
confidence in priests. It is to receive all impulsions from them; it
is to think and act only according to them; it is blindly to adopt
their passions and prejudices; it is faithfully to fulfil practices
which their caprice imposes.

Eugenia is not formed to follow such guides. They would terminate by
leading her widely astray, by dazzling her vivid imagination, by
infecting her gentle and amiable disposition with a deadly poison. To
master with more certainty her understanding, they would render her
austere, intolerant, and vindictive. In a word, by the magical power
of superstition and supernatural notions, they would succeed, perhaps,
in transforming to vices those happy dispositions that nature has
given you. Believe me, Madam, you would gain nothing by such a
metamorphosis. Rather be what you really are. Extricate yourself as
soon as possible from that state of incertitude and languor, from that
alternative of despondency and trouble, in which you are immersed. If
you will only take your reason and virtue for guides, you will soon
break the fetters whose dangerous effects you have begun to feel.

Assume the courage, then, I repeat it, to examine for yourself this
religion, which, far from procuring you the happiness it promised,
will only prove