has been used to express the concealed, remote, unknown causes of the
effects he witnessed; that he applies this term when the spring of
natural, the source of known causes ceases to be visible: as soon as he
loses the thread of these causes, or as soon as his mind can no longer
follow the chain, he solves the difficulty, terminates his research, by
ascribing it to his gods; thus giving a vague definition to an unknown
cause, at which either his idleness, or his limited knowledge, obliges
him to stop. When, therefore, he ascribes to his gods the production of
some phenomenon, the novelty or the extent of which strikes him with
wonder, but of which his ignorance precludes him from unravelling the
true cause, or which he believes the natural powers with which he is
acquainted are inadequate to bring forth; does he, in fact, do any thing
more than substitute for the darkness of his own mind, a sound to which
he has been accustomed to listen with reverential awe? Ignorance may be
said to be the inheritance of the generality of men; these attribute to
their gods not only those uncommon effects that burst upon their senses
with an astounding force, but also the most simple events, the causes of
which are the most easy to be known to whoever shall be willing to
meditate upon them. In short, man has always respected those unknown
causes, those surprising effects which his ignorance prevented him from
fathoming.

But does this afford us one single, correct idea of the _Divinity_? Can
it be possible we are acting rationally, thus eternally to make him the
agent of our stupidity, of our sloth, of our want of information on
natural causes? Do we, in fact, pay any kind of adoration to this being,
by thus bringing him forth on every trifling occasion, to solve the
difficulties ignorance throws in our way? Of whatever nature this great
cause of causes may be, it is evident to the slightest reflection that
he has been sedulous to conceal himself from our view; that he has