A Discourse Concerning Ridicule and Irony in Writing (1729) Part 1

A Discourse Concerning Ridicule and Irony in Writing (1729).

by Anthony Collins.

INTRODUCTION

Between 1710 and 1729 Anthony Collins was lampooned, satirized, and gravely denounced from pulpit and press as England's most insidious defiler of church and state. Yet within a year of his death he became the model of a proper country gentleman,

... he had an opulent Fortune, descended to him from his Ancestors, which he left behind him unimpair'd: He lived on his own Estate in the Country, where his Tenants paid him moderate Rents, which he never enhanced on their making any Improvements; he always oblig'd his Family to a constant attendance on Publick Worship; as he was himself a Man of the strictest Morality, for he never suffer'd any Body about him who was deficient in that Point; he exercised a universal Charity to all Sorts of People, without any Regard either to Sect or Party; being in the Commission of the Peace, he administered Justice with such Impartiality and Incorruptness, that the most distant Part of the County flock'd to his Decisions; but the chief Use he made of his Authority was in accommodating Differences;...[1]

In a comparison which likens him to Sir Roger de Coverley, there is less truth than fiction. What they did share was a love of the countryside and a "universal Charity" towards its inhabitants. For the most part, however, we can approximate Collins's personality by reversing many of Sir Roger's traits. Often at war with his world, as the spectatorial character was not, he managed to maintain an intellectual rapport with it and even with those who sought his humiliation. He never--as an instance--disguised his philosophical distrust of Samuel Clarke; yet during any debate he planned "most certainly [to] outdo him in civility and good manners."[2] This decorum in no way compromised his pursuit of what he considered objective truth or his denunciation of all "methods" or impositions of spiritual tyranny. Thus, during the virulent, uneven battle which followed upon the publication of the _Discourse of Free-Thinking_, he ignored his own wounds in order to applaud a critic's

_suspicions that there is a sophism_ in what he calls my _hypothesis_. That is a temper that ought to go thro' all our Inquirys, and especially before we have an opportunity of examining things to the bottom. It is safest at all times, and we are least likely to be mistaken, if we constantly suspect our selves to be under mistakes.... I have no system to defend or that I would seem to defend, and am unconcerned for the consequence that may be drawn from my opinion; and therefore stand clear of all difficultys wch others either by their opinion or caution are involved in.[3]

This is the statement of a man whose intellectual and religious commitment makes him see that his own fallibility is symptomatic of a human tendency to error. For himself, hence, he tries to avoid all manner of hard-voiced enthusiasm. Paradoxically, however, Collins searched with a zealot's avidity for any controversy which would either a.s.sert his faith or test his disbelief. When once he found his engagement, he revelled in it, whether as the aggressor or the hara.s.sed defendant. For example, in the "Preface" to the _Scheme of Literal Prophecy Considered_ he boastfully enumerated all the works--some twenty-nine--which had repudiated his earlier _Discourse on the Grounds and Reasons of the Christian Religion_.

And in malicious fact he held up the publication of the _Scheme_ for almost a year that he might add a "Postscript to the Preface" in which he identified six more pieces hostile to the _Grounds and Reasons_.[4]

By May of 1727 and with no visible sign of fatigue he took on a new contender; this time it was John Rogers, canon in ordinary to the Prince of Wales. At the height of their debate, in late summer, Collins made practical enquiries about methods to prolong and intensify its give-and-take. Thus, in a note to his friend Pierre Des Maizeaux, he said: "But I would be particularly informed of the success and sale of the Letter to Dr Rogers; because, if it could be, I would add to a new edition thereof two or three as sheets; which also might be sold separately to those who have already that Letter." For all his militant polemic, he asked only that his "Adversaries" observe with him a single rule of fair play; namely, that they refrain from name-calling and petty sniping. "Personal matters," he a.s.serted, "tho they may some times afford useful remarks, are little regarded by Readers, who are very seldom mistaken in judging that the most impertinent subject a man can talk of is himself," particularly when he inveighs against another.[5]

If Collins had been made to look back over the years 1676-1729, he probably would have summarized the last twenty with a paraphrase of the Popean line, "This long controversy, my life." For several years and in such works as _Priestcraft in Perfection_ (1710) and _A Discourse of Free-Thinking_ (1713), he was a flailing polemicist against the entire Anglican hierarchy. Not until 1724 did he become a polished debater, when he initiated a controversy which for the next five years made a "very great noise" and which ended only with his death. The loudest shot in the persistent barrage was sounded by the _Grounds and Reasons_, and its last fusillade by the _Discourse concerning Ridicule and Irony in Writing_.[6]

During those five years Collins concentrated upon a single opponent in each work and made it a rhetorical practice to change his "Adversary" in successive essays. He created in this way a composite victim whose strength was lessened by deindividualization; in this way too he ran no risk of being labelled a hobbyhorse rider or, more seriously, a persecutor. Throughout the _Grounds and Reasons_ he laughed at, reasoned against, and satirized William Whiston's a.s.sumption that messianic prophecies in the Old Testament were literally fulfilled in the figure and mission of Jesus. Within two years and in a new work, he subst.i.tuted Edward Chandler, Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield, for the mathematician.

It need not have been the Bishop; any one of thirty-four others could have qualified for the role of opponent, among them people like Clarke, and Sykes, and Sherwood, and even the ubiquitous Whiston. Collins rejected them, however, to debate in the _Scheme_ with Bishop Chandler, the author of _A Defence of Christianity from the Prophecies of the old Testament_, with one who was, in short, the least controversial and yet the most orthodox of his many a.s.sailants.

Early in 1727 the Anglican establishment came to the abrupt realization that the subject of the continuing debate--the reliability of the argument from prophecy--was inconclusive, that it could lead only to pedantic wrangling and hair-splitting with each side vainly clutching victory.

Certainly the devotion of many clergymen to biblical criticism was secondary to their interest in orthodoxy as a functional adjunct of government, both civil and canonical. It was against this interest, as it was enunciated in Rogers's _Eight Sermons concerning the Necessity of Revelation_ (1727) and particularly in its vindictive preface, that Collins chose to fight.[7] The debate had now taken a happy turn for him.

As he saw it, the central issue devolved upon man's natural right to religious liberty. At least he made this the theme of his _Letter to Dr.

Rogers_. In writing to Des Maizeaux about the success of this work, he obviously enjoyed his own profane irony:

I have had particular compliments made me by the BP of Salisbury, and by Dr Clark, who among other things sayd, that the Archbp of Canterbury might have writ all that related to Toleration in it: to say nothing of what I hear from others. Dr Rogers himself has acknowledg[ed] to his Bookseller who sent it to him into the Country, that he has receivd it; but says that he is so engaged in other affairs, that he has no thought at present of answering it; tho he may perhaps in time do so.[8]

In time Rogers did. He counterattacked on 2 February 1728 with a _Vindication of the Civil Establishment of Religion_.[9] For Collins this work was a dogged repet.i.tion of what had gone before, and so it could be ignored except for one of its appendices, _A Letter from the Rev. Dr.

Marshall jun. To the Rev. Dr. Rogers, upon Occasion of his Preface to his Eight Sermons_. Its inclusion seemed an afterthought; yet it altered the dimensions of the debate by narrowing and particularizing the areas of grievance which separated the debaters. Collins, therefore, reb.u.t.ted it some fourteen months later in _A Discourse concerning Ridicule and Irony in Writing_. He had great hopes for this pamphlet, preparing carefully for its reception. He encouraged the republication of his three preceding works, which find their inevitable conclusion, even their exoneration, in this last performance, and he probably persuaded his bookseller to undertake an elaborate promotional campaign. For the new editions were advertised on seven different days between 10 January and 27 February 1729 in the _Daily Post_. He wanted no one to miss the relationship between the _Discourse concerning Ridicule and Irony_ and these earlier pieces or to overlook its presence when it finally appeared in the pamphlet shops on 17 March.

Collins was animated by his many debates. Indeed, "he sought the storms."

Otherwise he would not, could not, have partic.i.p.ated in these many verbal contests. Throughout them all, his basic strategy--that of provocation--was determined by the very real fact that he had many more enemies than allies, among them, for instance, such formidable antagonists as Swift and Richard Bentley.[10] To survive he had to acquire a tough resilience, a skill in fending off attacks or turning them to his own advantage. Nevertheless, he remained a ready target all his life.

Understandably so: his radicalism was stubborn and his opinions predictable. Such firmness may of course indicate his aversion to tr.i.m.m.i.n.g. Or it may reveal a lack of intellectual growth; what he believed as a young man, he perpetuated as a mature adult. Whether our answer is drawn from either possibility or, more realistically, from both, the fact remains that he never camouflaged the two principles by which he lived and fought:

1. That universal liberty be established in respect to opinions and practises not prejudicial to the peace and welfare of society: by which establishment, truth must needs have the advantages over _error_ and _falsehood_, the _law_ of _G.o.d_ over the _will_ of _man_, and _true Christianity tolerated_; private _judgment_ would be really exercised; and men would be allowed to have suffered to follow their consciences, over which G.o.d only is supreme:...

2. Secondly, that nothing but the _law of nature_, (the observance whereof is absolutely necessary to society) and what can be built thereon, should be enforced by the civil sanctions of the magistrate:...[11]

II

There is very little in this statement to offend modern readers. Yet the orthodox in Collins's own time had reason to be angry with him: his arguments were inflammatory and his rhetoric was devious, cheeky, and effective. Those contesting him underscored his negativism, imaging him as a destroyer of Christianity eager "to proselyte men, from the Christian to no religion at all."[12] Certainly it is true that he aimed to disprove a Christian revelation which he judged fraudulent and conspiratorial. In place of ecclesiastical authority he offered the rule of conscience. For orthodoxy he subst.i.tuted "a Religion antecedent to Revelation, which is necessary to be known in order to _ascertain Revelation_; and by that Religion [he meant] _Natural Religion_, which is presupposed to Revelation, and is a Test by which Reveal'd Religion is to be tried, is a Bottom on which it must stand, and is a Rule to understand it by."[13]

Categorical in tone, the statement frustrated the Anglican clergy by its very slipperiness; its generalities left little opportunity for decisive reb.u.t.tal. It provided no definition of natural religion beyond the predication of a body of unnamed moral law which is rational and original, the archetype of what is valid in the world's religions.

His dismissal of revelation and his reduction of Christianity to what he called its "natural" and hence incontrovertible basis carried with it a corollary, that of man's absolute right to religious enquiry and profession. Here he became specific, borrowing from Lockean empiricism his conditions of intellectual a.s.sent. "Evidence," he said, "ought to be the sole ground of a.s.sent, and Examination is the way to arrive at Evidence; and therefore rather than I wou'd have Examination, Arguing and Objecting laid aside, I wou'd chuse to say, That no Opinions whatever can be dangerous to a Man that impartially examines into the Truth of Things."[14] The church leadership saw in this statement and others like it not an epistemological premise but a deliberate subterfuge, an insidious blind to vindicate his attacks upon an organized priesthood. We can recognize now that his opponents oversimplified his intention, that they blackened it to make his villainy at once definitive and vulnerable.

At the same time we must admit that he often equated the ideas of repression and clerical authority, even as he coupled those of freedom and the guide of private conscience.

The Anglican church was infuriated by these correlations, angered as much by their manner of expression as by their substance. For the faithful were frequently thrown off balance by a strategy of ironical indirection.

Sometimes this took the form of omission or the presentation of an argument in so fragmentary or slanted a fashion that Collins's "Enemies"

could debate neither his implications nor his conclusions. At other times he used this artful circ.u.mlocution to create his favorite mask, that of the pious Christian devoted to scripture or of the moralist perplexed by the divisions among the orthodox clergy. Finally, his rhetoric was shaped by deistic predecessors who used sarcasm and satire to mock the gravity of church authority. So much was their wit a trademark that as early as 1702 one commentator had noted, "when you expect an argument, they make a jest."[15] Collins himself resorted to this practice with both instinctive skill and deliberate contrivance.

All these methods, though underhanded, he silently justified on the a.s.sumption that he was dealing with a conspiracy of priests: hence, he professed that he had to fight fraud and deception with their like, and that such craftiness, suitable "to his particular genius and temper," was "serviceable to his cause." For these reasons even William Warburton, who had vainly struggled to be judicious, described him as "a Writer, whose dexterity in the arts of Controversy was so remarkably contrasted by his abilities in reasoning and literature, as to be ever putting one in mind of what travellers tell us of the genius of the proper Indians, who, although the veriest bunglers in all the fine arts of manual operation, yet excel everybody in slight of hand and the delusive feats of activity."[16] Whatever may be said of Collins and his achievement, one fact remains constant. He was a brilliant and persistent trickster whose cunning in the techniques of polemic often silenced an opponent with every substantive right to win the debate.

He seized any opportunity to expose the diversity of ethical and theological opinion which set one Anglican divine against another, "to observe"--as Jenkin put it--"how the gladiators in dispute murder the cause between them, while they so fiercely cut and wound one another." For Collins such observation was more than oratorical artifice; it was one of the dogmas of his near-nihilism. He commented once to Des Maizeaux upon the flurry of critics who replied to his statement of necessitarianism in the _Philosophical Inquiry concerning Human Liberty_:

I was extreamly pleasd with BP Hoadley, ... as it was upon the true and only point worth disputing with ye Preists, viz whether we the laity are the Calves and Sheep of the Preist. And I am not less pleasd to see them manage this controversy with ye same vile arts against one another, as they always use towards the laity. It must open the eyes of a few and convince them, that the Preists mean nothing but wealth and power, and have not the least ... of those qualitys for wch the superst.i.tious world admires them.[17]

He applied this principle of divisive attack in _A Discourse of Free-Thinking_. There in fifty-three pages he transparently ridiculed contradictions which hedged three areas of fundamental religious belief: _"The Nature and Attributes of the Eternal Being or G.o.d, ... the Authority of Scriptures, and ... the Sense of Scripture."_ In accordance with one of his favorite tricks--the ma.s.sing of eminent authority--his exposition rings with hallowed Anglican names: South, Bull, Taylor, Wallis, Carlton, Davenant, Edwards, More, Tillotson, Fowler, Sherlock, Stillingfleet, Sacheverell, Beveridge, Grabe, Hickes, Lesley.[18] What united these men, he insinuated, was not a Christian commitment but a talent to disagree with one another and even to repudiate themselves--as in the case of Stillingfleet. In effect, the entire _Discourse_ bubbles with a carelessly suppressed snicker.

The clergy could not readily reply to this kind of incriminating exposure or deny its reality. They therefore overreacted to other judgments that Collins made, particularly to his attacks upon Christian revelation. These they denigrated as misleading, guileful, sinister, contrived, deceitful, insidious, shuffling, covert, subversive. What they objected to was, first, the way in which he reduced the demonstration of Christian revelation to only the "puzzling and perplexing" argument from prophecy, the casual ease with which he ignored or dismissed those other "clear"

proofs derived from the miracles of Jesus and the resurrection itself.[19]

But even more the orthodox resented the masked point of view from which Collins presented his disbelief.

For example, the _Grounds and Reasons_ is the deist's first extended attack upon revelation. Ostensibly it is, as we have seen, an answer to Whiston's _Essay Towards Restoring the True Text of the Old Testament; and for Vindicating the Citations Made Thence in the New Testament_ (1722). In it the mathematician argued that the Hebraic prophecies relating to the messiah had been literally fulfilled in Jesus. But this truth, he admitted, had been obscured "in the latter Ages," only because of those "Difficulties" which "have [almost wholly] arisen from the Corruptions, the unbelieving _Jews_ introduc'd into the Hebrew and Greek copies of the Old Testament, [soon after] the Beginning of the Second Century." These conspiratorial corruptions he single-handedly planned to remove, returning the Old Testament to a state of textual purity with emendations drawn from sources as varied as the Samaritan Pentateuch, the Greek Psalms, the Antiquities of Josephus, the Chaldee Paraphrases, the books of Philo. His pragmatic purpose was to nullify the biblical criticism of historical minded scholars as reputable as Grotius, to render useless the allegorical interpretation of messianic prophecies. That is, he saw in the latter a "pernicious" absence of fact, a "weak and enthusiastical" whimsy, unchristian adjustments to the exigencies of the moment.[20]

Collins fought not to destroy Whiston's position, which was all too easily destructible, but to undermine the structure, the very "grounds and reasons" with which orthodoxy supported the mysteries of its faith. To do so, he spun a gigantic web of irony controlled by a persona whose complex purpose was concealed by a mien of hyper-righteousness. Here then was one motivated by a fair-mindedness which allowed him to defend his opponent's right of scriptural exegesis even while disagreeing with its approach and its conclusions. Here too was a conservative Christian different from Whiston "and many other great divines; who seem to pay little deference to the books of the New Testament, the text whereof they are perpetually mending in their sermons, commentaries, and writings, to serve purposes; who pretend _we should have more of the true text by being less tenacious of the printed one_, and in consequence thereof, presume to correct by critical _emendations_, serve _capital places_ in the _sacred writers_; and who ... do virtually set aside the authority of the scripture, and place those compositions in its stead." Finally, here was one who, obedient to the spirit of G.o.d's revealed word, rejected the fallacy that messianic prophecy had been fulfilled in Christ in any "literal, obvious and primary sense."[21]

But though the persona could not accept Whiston's program, he was not a mere negativist. With growing excitement he argued for allegorical interpretation. At this point the reader discerns that he has been duped, that nowhere has there been a denial of Whiston's charge that the reading of messianic prophecy in a typical or allegorical or secondary sense is "weak and enthusiastical." On the contrary, the reader finds only the d.a.m.ning innuendo that the two methods--the allegorical and the literal--differ from one another not in kind but in degree of absurdity.

After being protected for a long time by all the twists and turns of his creator's irony, the persona finally reveals himself for what he is, a man totally insolent and totally without remorse. Never for one moment did he wish to defend the scheme of allegorical prophecy but to attack it. His argument, stripped of its convolutions and pseudo-piety, moves inexorably to a single, negative conclusion. "Christianity pretends to derive itself from Judaism. JESUS appeals to the religious books of the Jews as prophesying of his Mission. None of these Prophecies can be understood of him but in a _typical allegoric_ sense. Now that sense is absurd, and contrary to all scholastic rules of interpretation. Christianity, therefore, not being really predicted in the Jewish Writings, is consequently false."[22]

Collins continued his attack upon Christian revelation in the _Scheme_. In the two years which separated this work from the earlier _Grounds and Reasons_, there occurred no change in the author's argument. What does occur, however, is a perceptive if snide elaboration upon the mask. This is in many ways the same persona who barely suppressed his guffaws in the earlier work. Now he is given an added dimension; he is made more decisively rational than his predecessor and therefore more insightful in his knowledge of rhetorical method. As a disciple of certain Protestant polemicists and particularly of Grotius, whose "integrity," "honor," and biblical criticism he supports, he is the empirical-minded Christian who knows exactly why the literalists have failed to persuade the free-thinkers or even to have damaged their arguments. "For if you begin with Infidels by denying to them, what is evident and agreeable to common sense, I think there can be no reasonable hopes of converting or convincing them."[23] The irony is abrasive simply because it unanswerably singles out the great rhetorical failure of orthodoxy, its inability to argue from a set of principles as acceptable to the deists as to themselves.

Many of the clergy chafed against Collins's manipulation of this tongue-in-cheek persona. They resented his irreverent wit which projected, for example, the image of an Anglican G.o.d who "talks to all mankind from corners" and who shows his back parts to Moses. They were irritated by his jesting parables, as in "The Case of Free-Seeing," and by the impertinence of labelling Archbishop Tillotson as the man "whom all _English Free-Thinkers_ own as their Head."[24]

But most of all they gagged upon Collins's use of satire in religious controversy. As we have already seen, there were complex reasons for his choice of technique. He was a naturally witty man who, sometimes out of fear and sometimes out of malice, expressed himself best through circuitous irony. In 1724, when he himself considered his oratorical practice, he argued that his matter determined his style, that the targets of his belittling wit were the "saint-errants." We can only imagine the exasperation of Collins's Anglican enemies when they found their orthodoxy thus slyly lumped with the eccentricities of Samuel Butler's "true blew"

Presbyterians. It would be hard to live down the a.s.sociations of those facetious lines which made the Augustan divines, like their unwelcome forebear Hudibras, members

Of that stubborn Crew Of Errant Saints, whom all men grant To be the true Church Militant.

Those dignified Anglican exteriors were further punctured by Collins's irreverent attack upon their cry of religious uniformity, a cry which was "ridiculous, romantick, and impossible to succeed." He saw himself, in short, as an emanc.i.p.ated Butler or even Cervantes; and like his famous predecessors he too would laugh quite out of countenance the fool and the hypocrite, the pretender and the enthusiast, the knave and the persecuter, all those who would create a G.o.d in their own sour and puny image.

III

By 1727 several of the orthodox felt that they could take no more of Collins's laughter, his sneering invectives against the clergy, or his designs to make religion "a Matter purely personal; and the Knowledge of it to be obtain'd by personal Consideration, _independently of any Guides, Teachers, or Authority_." In the forefront of this group was John Rogers, whose hostility to the deist was articulate and compulsive. At least it drove him into a position seemingly at odds with the spirit if not the law of English toleration. He urged, for example, that those like Collins be prosecuted in a civil court for a persuasion "which is manifestly subversive of all Order and Polity, and can no more consist with civil, than with religious, Society."[25]

Thereupon followed charge and countercharge. New gladiators, as different from each other as the nonconformist divine Samuel Chandler and the deist Thomas Chubb, entered the arena on behalf of Collins. For all the dogmatic volubility of Rogers, orthodoxy appeared beleaguered. The moderate clergy, who witnessed this exchange, became alarmed; they feared that in the melee the very heart of English toleration would be threatened by the contenders, all of whom spoke as its champion. Representative of such moderation was Nathanael Marshall, who wished if not to end the debate, then at least to contain its ardor. As canon of Windsor, he supported the condition of a state religion protected by the magistrate but he worried over the extent of the latter's prerogative and power. Certainly he was more liberal than Rogers in his willingness to entertain professions of religious diversity. Yet he straitjacketed his liberalism when he denied responsible men the right to attack laws, both civil and canonical, with "ludicrous Insult" or "with Buffoonery and Banter, Ridicule or Sarcastick Irony."[26]

Once again Collins met the challenge. In _A Discourse concerning Ridicule and Irony_ he devoted himself to undermining the moral, the intellectual, and practical foundations of that one restraint which Marshall would impose upon the conduct of any religious quarrel. He had little difficulty in achieving his objective. His adversary's stand was visibly vulnerable and for several reasons. It was too conscious of the tug-of-war between the deist and Rogers, too arbitrary in its choice of prohibition. It was, in truth, strained by a choice between offending the establishment and yet rejecting clerical extremism.[27] Moreover, Collins had this time an invisible partner, a superior thinker against whom he could test his own ideas and from whom he could borrow others. For the _Discourse concerning Ridicule and Irony_ is largely a particularization, a crude but powerful reworking of Shaftesbury's _Sensus Communis: An Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour_.

Supported by Shaftesbury's urbane generalization, Collins laughed openly at the egocentricity and blindness of Marshall's timid zealotry. Indeed, he wryly found his orthodox opponent guilty of the very crime with which he, as a subversive, was charged. It seemed to him, he said,