Between the years 1733-37, owing to his acquaintance with the writings of the famous mystic, Jacob Boehme, Law became a mystic himself. The 'blessed Jacob' as he calls him exercised an influence which colours all his later writings and lasted till his death. In 1740 he retired to his native village and to solitude; but after a while two wealthy and devout ladies, one of them a widow, the other the historian's aunt, Miss Hester Gibbon, joined him in his retreat and devoted to charitable objects their labours and their fortunes. 'Out of a joint income of not less than three thousand pounds a year, only about three hundred pounds were spent upon the frugal expenses of the household and the simple personal wants of the three inhabitants. The whole of the remainder was spent upon the poor.'[66] Report says, let us hope it may be scandal, that after the master's death the love of earthly vanities revived in two of his pupils. His favourite niece had a new dress every month, and Miss Gibbon 'appeared resplendent in yellow stockings.' This is not the place to follow Law's self-denying career, neither are we concerned with the volumes which contain his later views. Admirably written though they be, these works do not belong to the field of literature. Law lived in vigour both of mind and body to a good old age, and died in 1761.
Joseph Butler (1692-1752).
Joseph Butler, whose Sermons (1726), and Analogy of Religion Natural and Revealed to the Constitution and Course of Nature (1736), are among the highest contributions to theology produced in the last century, called the imagination 'a forward, delusive faculty,' and he could have boasted that it was a faculty of which no trace is to be found in his works. Moreover, he is generally regarded as wholly destitute of style, and in a sense this is true, for Butler is so intent upon what he has to say that he cares little how he says it. His sense of beauty if he possessed it, was absorbed in a supreme allegiance to truth, and his life was that of a Christian philosopher intent upon one object. His sermons, preached at the Rolls Chapel, which contain the germ of his philosophy, are too closely packed with argument and too recondite in thought to fit them for pulpit discourses. The Analogy, which occupied seven years of Butler's life, is better known and more generally interesting. 'There is,' he says, 'a much more exact correspondence between the natural and the moral world than we are apt to take notice of.' His aim is to show that the difficulties which meet us in Revelation are to be found also in nature, that as our happiness or misery in this world largely depends upon conduct, so it is reasonable to suppose, apart from what Revelation teaches, that we are also in a state of probation with regard to a future life. As youth is an education for mature age, so may the whole of our earthly life be an education for a future existence.
'And if we were not able at all to discern how or in what way the present life could be our preparation for another, this would be no objection against the credibility of its being so. For we do not discern how food and sleep contribute to the growth of the body; nor could have any thought that they would before we had experience. Nor do children at all think on the one hand that the sports and exercises, to which they are so much addicted, contribute to their health and growth; nor, on the other, of the necessity which there is for their being restrained in them; nor are they capable of understanding the use of many parts of discipline, which, nevertheless, they must be made to go through in order to qualify them for the business of mature age. Were we not able, then, to discover in what respects the present life could form us for a future one, yet nothing would be more supposable than that it might, in some respects or other, from the general analogy of Providence. And this, for aught I see, might reasonably be said, even though we should not take in the consideration of God's moral government over the world. But, take in this consideration, and consequently, that the character of virtue and piety is a necessary qualification for the future state, and then we may distinctly see how and in what respects the present life may be a preparation for it.
Butler's style is uniform throughout, and if it have no other merit, may be praised for honesty. It is wholly free from the artifices of the rhetorician; if it is wanting in charm, it is never weak; if it is sometimes obscure, it must be remembered that the author does not write for readers who find it a trouble to think. The bishop's obscurity was not due to negligence. 'Confusion and perplexity in writing,' he says, 'is indeed without excuse; because anyone may, if he pleases, know whether he understands and sees through what he is about; and it is unpardonable for a man to lay his thoughts before others when he is conscious that he himself does not know whereabouts he is, or how the matter before him stands. It is coming abroad in disorder, which he ought to be dissatisfied to find himself in at home.'
Butler weighed his thoughts rather than his words in an age when many distinguished writers were tempted to regard form as of more consequence than substance. It must be admitted, however, that if the ideal of fine literature be the expression of beautiful and richly suggestive thoughts in a style elevated by the imagination, and by a sense of rhythmical harmony, Bishop Butler's place is not among men of letters. His profound sense of the seriousness of life limited his range; but as a thinker, what he lost in versatility he probably gained in depth. The Analogy is a striking instance of a great work wholly without imagination, while full of the intellectual life which sustains the student's attention. There is not a dull page in the book, or one in which the author's meaning cannot be grasped by thoughtful readers. The work is full of weighty sayings on the power of conscience, the rule of right which a man has within him, the force of habit, the necessity of action in relation to belief, and the uselessness of passive impressions. It has been said that the defect of the eighteenth century theology 'was not in having too much good sense, but in having nothing besides,' and the straining after good sense, so prominent in Pope's age, affected alike, men of letters, philosophers, and theologians. The virtue was carried to excess and is conspicuous in Butler. He has his weaknesses both as a philosopher and a theologian, but the reader of the Analogy and of the three sermons on Human Nature, will be conscious that he is in the presence of a great mind.
William Warburton (1698-1779).
William Warburton, Pope's commentator, was born at Newark-upon-Trent in 1698, and died as Bishop of Gloucester in 1779. The main argument of his principal work, The Divine Legation of Moses (1738-41), is based upon the astounding paradox that the legation of Moses must have been divine because he never invoked the promises or threatenings of a future state. The book is remarkable for its arrogance and lack of 'sweet reasonableness.' It claims no attention from the student of English literature, neither would Warburton himself were it not for his association with Pope. Allusion has been already made to Crousaz's hostile criticism of the Essay on Man (1737) on the ground that it led to fatalism, and was destructive of the foundations of natural religion. Warburton, who had previously denounced the 'rank atheism' of the poem, now endeavoured to defend it, and how effectually he did so in Pope's judgment is seen in his grateful acknowledgment of the critic's labours. 'I know I meant just what you explain,' he wrote, 'but I did not explain my own meaning as well as you. You understand me as well as I do myself, but you express me better than I could express myself.'
Dr. Conyers Middleton's estimate of what Warburton had done for Pope is more accurate: 'You have evinced the orthodoxy of Mr. Pope's principles,' he says, 'but, like the old commentators on his Homer, will be thought, perhaps, in some places to have provided a meaning for him that he himself never dreamt of.'[67]
The poet and Warburton met for the first time in 1740, and the bookseller, Dodsley, who was present at the interview, was astonished at the compliments which Pope lavished on his apologist. Henceforth, until the poet's death, Warburton, who, according to Bishop Hurd, 'found an image of himself in his new acquaintance,' became his counsellor and supporter, and among other achievements added, as Ricardus Aristarchus, to the confusion of the Dunciad. Ultimately, as Pope's annotator, he produced much laborious and comparatively worthless criticism, and contrived by his immense fighting qualities as a critic and polemic to make a considerable noise in the world. One incident in the friendship of the poet and of the divine is worth recording. In 1741 Pope and Warburton were at Oxford together, and while there the Vice-Chancellor offered to confer on the poet the degree of D.C.L., and on Warburton that of D.D. Some hesitation, however, on the part of the university having occurred with regard to the latter, Pope wrote to his friend saying, 'As for mine I will die before I receive one, in an art I am ignorant of, at a place where there remains any scruple of bestowing one on you, in a science of which you are so great a master. In short I will be doctored with you, or not at all.'