His motive to write for posthumous publication, however, seems rather to have been the venting of his tumultuous feelings than any philosophic purpose. An overweening deist, he is yet at much pains to disparage the à priori argument for deism, bestowing some of his most violent epithets on Dr. Samuel Clarke, who seems to have exasperated him in politics. But his castigation of “divines” is tolerably impartial on that side; and he is largely concerned to deprive them of grounds for their functions, though he finally insists that churches are necessary for purposes of public moral teaching. His own teachings represent an effort to rationalize deism. The God whom he affirms is to be conceived or described only as omnipotent and omniscient (or all-wise), not as good or benevolent any more than as vindictive. Thus he had assimilated part of the Spinozistic and the atheistic case against anthropomorphism, while still using anthropomorphic language on the score that “we must speak of God after the manner of men.” Beyond this point he compromises to the extent of denying special while admitting collective or social providences; though he is positive in his denial of the actuality or the moral need of a future state. As to morals he takes the ordinary deistic line, putting the innate “law of nature” as the sufficient and only revelation by the deity to his creatures. On the basis of that inner testimony he rejects the Old Testament as utterly unworthy of deity, but endorses the universal morality found in the gospels, while rejecting their theology. It was very much the deism of Voltaire, save that it made more concessions to anti-theistic logic.
The weak side of Bolingbroke’s polemic was its inconsistency—a flaw deriving from his character. In the spirit of a partisan debater he threw out at any point any criticism that appeared for the moment plausible; and, having no scientific basis or saving rectitude, would elsewhere take up another and a contradictory position. Careful antagonists could thus discredit him by mere collation of his own utterances.[199] But, the enemy being no more consistent than he, his influence was not seriously affected in the world of ordinary readers; and much of his attack on “divines,” on dogmas, and on Old Testament morality must have appealed to many, thus carrying on the discredit of orthodoxy in general. Leland devoted to him an entire volume of his View of the Principal Deistical Writers, and in all bestows more space upon him than on all the others together—a sufficient indication of his vogue.
In his lifetime, however, Bolingbroke had been extremely careful to avoid compromising himself. Mr. Arthur Hassall, in his generally excellent monograph on Bolingbroke (Statesmen Series, 1889, p. 226), writes, in answer to the attack of Johnson, that “Bolingbroke, during his lifetime, had never scrupled to publish criticisms, remarkable for their freedom, on religious subjects.” I cannot gather to what he refers; and Mr. Walter Sichel, in his copious biography (2 vols. 1901–1902), indicates no such publications. The Letters on the Study and Use of History, which contain (Lett. iii, sect. 2) a skeptical discussion of the Pentateuch as history, though written in 1735–36, were only posthumously published, in 1752. The Examen Important de Milord Bolingbroke, produced by Voltaire in 1767, but dated 1736, is Voltaire’s own work, based on Bolingbroke. In his letter to Swift of September 12, 1724 (Swift’s Works, Scott’s ed. 1824, xvi, 448–49), Bolingbroke angrily repudiates the title of esprit fort, declaring, in the very temper in which pious posterity has aspersed himself, that “such are the pests of society, because they endeavour to loosen the bands of it.... I therefore not only disown, but I detest, this character.” In this letter he even affects to believe in “the truth of the divine revelation of Christianity.” He began to write his essays, it is true, before his withdrawal to France in 1735, but with no intention of speedily publishing them. In his Letter to Mr. Pope (published with the Letter to Wyndham, 1753), p. 481, he writes: “I have been a martyr of faction in politics, and have no vocation to be so in philosophy.” Cp. pp. 485–86. It is thus a complete blunder on the part of Bagehot to say (Literary Studies, Hutton’s ed. iii, 137) that Butler’s Analogy, published in 1736, was “designed as a confutation of Shaftesbury and Bolingbroke.” It is even said (Warton, Essay on Pope, 4th ed. ii, 294–95) that Pope did not know Bolingbroke’s real opinions; but Pope’s untruthfulness was such as to discredit such a statement. Cp. Bolingbroke’s Letter as cited, p. 521, and his Philosophical Works, 8vo-ed. 1754, ii, 405. It is noteworthy that a volume of controversial sermons entitled A Preservative against unsettled notions and Want of Principles in Religion, so entirely stupid in its apologetics as to be at times positively entertaining, was published in 1715 by Joseph Trapp, M.A., “Chaplain to the Right Honble. The Lord Viscount Bolingbroke.”
In seeking to estimate Bolingbroke’s posthumous influence we have to remember that after the publication of his works the orthodox members of his own party, who otherwise would have forgiven him all his vices and insincerities, have held him up to hatred. Scott, for instance, founding on Bolingbroke’s own dishonest denunciation of freethinkers as men seeking to loosen the bands of society, pronounced his arrangement for the posthumous issue of his works “an act of wickedness more purely diabolical than any hitherto upon record in the history of any age or nation” (Note to Bolingbroke’s letter above cited in Swift’s Works, xvi, 450). It would be an error, on the other hand, to class him among either the great sociologists or the great philosophers. Mr. Sichel undertakes to show (vol. ii, ch. x) that Bolingbroke had stimulated Gibbon to a considerable extent in his treatment of early Christianity. This is in itself quite probable, and some of the parallels cited are noteworthy; but Mr. Sichel, who always writes as a panegyrist, makes no attempt to trace the common French sources for both. He does show that Voltaire manipulated Bolingbroke’s opinions in reproducing them. But he does not critically recognize the incoherence of Bolingbroke’s eloquent treatises. Mr. Hassall’s summary is nearer the truth; but that in turn does not note how well fitted was Bolingbroke’s swift and graceful declamation to do its work with the general public, which (if it accepted him at all) would make small account of self-contradiction.
§ 14
In view of such a reinforcement of its propaganda, deism could not be regarded as in the least degree written down. In 1765, in fact, we find Diderot recounting, on the authority of d’Holbach, who had just returned from a visit to this country, that “the Christian religion is nearly extinct in England. The deists are innumerable; there are almost no atheists; those who are so conceal it. An atheist and a scoundrel are almost synonymous terms for them.”[200] Nor did the output of deistic literature end with the posthumous works of Bolingbroke. These were followed by translations of the new writings of Voltaire,[201] who had assimilated the whole propaganda of English deism, and gave it out anew with a wit and brilliancy hitherto unknown in argumentative and critical literature. The freethinking of the third quarter of the century, though kept secondary to more pressing questions, was thus at least as deeply rooted and as convinced as that of the first quarter; and it was probably not much less common among educated men, though new social influences caused it to be more decried.
The hapless Chatterton, fatally precocious, a boy in years and experience of life, a man in understanding at seventeen, incurred posthumous obloquy more for his “infidelity” than for the harmless literary forgeries which reveal his poetic affinity to a less prosaic age. It is a memorable fact that this first recovery of the lost note of imaginative poetry in that “age of prose and reason” is the exploit of a boy whose mind was as independently “freethinking” on current religion as it was original even in its imitative reversion to the poetics of the past. Turning away from the impossible mythicism and mysticism of the Tudor and Stuart literatures, as from the fanaticism of the Puritans, the changing English world after the Restoration had let fall the artistic possession of imaginative feeling and style which was the true glory of the time of Renascence. The ill-strung genius of Chatterton seems to have been the first to reunite the sense of romantic beauty with the spirit of critical reason. He was a convinced deist, avowing in his verse, in his pathetic will (1770), in a late letter, and at times in his talk, that he was “no Christian,” and contemning the ethic of Scripture history and the absurdity of literal inspiration.[202] Many there must have been who went as far, with less courage of avowal.
What was lacking to the age, once more, was a social foundation on which it could not only endure but develop. In a nation of which the majority had no intellectual culture, such a foundation could not exist. Green exaggerates[203] when he writes that “schools there were none, save the grammar schools of Edward and Elizabeth”;[204] but by another account only twelve public schools were founded in the long reign of George III;[205] and, as a result of the indifference of two generations, masses of the people “were ignorant and brutal to a degree which it is hard to conceive.”[206] A great increase of population had followed on the growth of towns and the development of commerce and manufactures even between 1700 and 1760;[207] and thereafter the multiplication was still more rapid. There was thus a positive fall in the culture standards of the majority of the people. According to Massey, “hardly any tradesman in 1760 had more instruction than qualified him to add up a bill”; and “a labourer, mechanic, or domestic servant who could read or write possessed a rare accomplishment.”[208] As for the Charity Schools established between 1700 and 1750, their express object was to rear humble tradesmen and domestics, not to educate in the proper sense of the term.
In the view of life which accepted this state of things the educated deists seem to have shared; at least, there is no record of any agitation by them for betterment. The state of political thought was typified in the struggle over “Wilkes and Liberty,” from which cool temperaments like Hume’s turned away in contempt; and it is significant that poor men were persecuted for freethinking while the better-placed went free. Jacob Ilive, for denying in a pamphlet (1753) the truth of revelation, was pilloried thrice, and sent to hard labour for three years. In 1754 the Grand Jury of Middlesex “presented” the editor and publisher of Bolingbroke’s posthumous works[209]—a distinction that in the previous generation had been bestowed on Mandeville’s Fable of the Bees; and in 1761, as before noted, Peter Annet, aged seventy, was pilloried twice and sent to prison for discrediting the Pentateuch; as if that were a more serious offence than his former attacks on the gospels and on St. Paul. The personal influence of George III, further, told everywhere against freethinking; and the revival of penalties would have checked publishing even if there had been no withdrawal of interest to politics.