CHAPTER VII.
It is difficult for an ordinary reader, living in the middle of the nineteenth century, to understand, that only three hundred years before he was born, the public mind was in the benighted state disclosed in the preceding chapter. It is still more difficult for him to understand that the darkness was shared not merely by men of an average education, but by men of considerable ability, men in every respect among the foremost of their age. A reader of this sort may satisfy himself that the evidence is indisputable; he may verify the statements I have brought forward, and admit that there is no possible doubt about them; but even then he will find it hard to conceive that there ever was a state of society in which such miserable absurdities were welcomed as sober and important truths, and were supposed to form an essential part of the general stock of European knowledge.
But a more careful examination will do much to dissipate this natural astonishment. In point of fact, so far from wondering that such things were believed, the wonder would have been if they were rejected. For in those times, as in all others, every thing was of a piece. Not only in historical literature, but in all kinds of literature, on every subject—in science, in religion, in legislation—the presiding principle was a blind and unhesitating credulity. The more the history of Europe anterior to the seventeenth century is studied, the more completely will this fact be verified. Now and then a great man arose, who had his doubts respecting the universal belief; who whispered a suspicion as to the existence of giants thirty feet high, of dragons with wings, and of armies flying through the air; who thought that astrology might be a cheat, and necromancy a bubble; and who even went so far as to raise a question respecting the propriety of drowning every witch and burning every heretic. A few such men there undoubtedly were; but they were despised as mere theorists, idle visionaries, who, unacquainted with the practice of life, arrogantly opposed their own reason to the wisdom of their ancestors. In the state of society in which they were born, it was impossible that they should make any permanent impression. Indeed, they had enough to do to look to themselves, and provide for their own security; for, until the latter part of the sixteenth century, there was no country in which a man was not in great personal peril if he expressed open doubts respecting the belief of his contemporaries.
Yet it is evident, that until doubt began, progress was impossible. For, as we have clearly seen, the advance of civilization solely depends on the acquisitions made by the human intellect, and on the extent to which those acquisitions are diffused. But men who are perfectly satisfied with their own knowledge, will never attempt to increase it. Men who are perfectly convinced of the accuracy of their opinions, will never take the pains of examining the basis on which they are built. They look always with wonder, and often with horror, on views contrary to those which they inherited from their fathers; and while they are in this state of mind, it is impossible that they should receive any new truth which interferes with their foregone conclusions.
On this account it is, that although the acquisition of fresh knowledge is the necessary precursor of every step in social progress, such acquisition must itself be preceded by a love of inquiry, and therefore by a spirit of doubt; because without doubt there will be no inquiry, and without inquiry there will be no knowledge. For knowledge is not an inert and passive principle, which comes to us whether we will or no; but it must be sought before it can be won; it is the product of great labour and therefore of great sacrifice. And it is absurd to suppose that men will incur the labour, and make the sacrifice, for subjects respecting which they are already perfectly content. They who do not feel the darkness, will never look for the light. If on any point we have attained to certainty, we make no further inquiry on that point; because inquiry would be useless, or perhaps dangerous. The doubt must intervene, before the investigation can begin. Here, then, we have the act of doubting as the originator, or, at all events, the necessary antecedent, of all progress. Here we have that scepticism, the very name of which is an abomination to the ignorant; because it disturbs their lazy and complacent minds; because it troubles their cherished superstitions; because it imposes on them the fatigue of inquiry; and because it rouses even sluggish understandings to ask if things are as they are commonly supposed, and if all is really true which they from their childhood have been taught to believe.
The more we examine this great principle of scepticism, the more distinctly shall we see the immense part it has played in the progress of European civilization. To state in general terms, what in this Introduction will be fully proved, it may be said, that to scepticism we owe that spirit of inquiry, which, during the last two centuries, has gradually encroached on every possible subject; has reformed every department of practical and speculative knowledge; has weakened the authority of the privileged classes, and thus placed liberty on a surer foundation; has chastized the despotism of princes; has restrained the arrogance of the nobles; and has even diminished the prejudices of the clergy. In a word, it is this which has remedied the three fundamental errors of the olden time: errors which made the people, in politics too confiding; in science too credulous; in religion too intolerant.
This rapid summary of what has actually been effected, may perhaps startle those readers to whom such large investigations are not familiar. The importance, however, of the principle at issue is so great, that I purpose in this Introduction to verify it by an examination of all the prominent forms of European civilization. Such an inquiry will lead to the remarkable conclusion, that no single fact has so extensively affected the different nations as the duration, the amount, and above all the diffusion, of their scepticism. In Spain, the church, aided by the Inquisition, has always been strong enough to punish sceptical writers, and prevent, not indeed the existence, but the promulgation of sceptical opinions.[544] By this means the spirit of doubt being quenched, knowledge has for several centuries remained almost stationary; and civilization, which is the fruit of knowledge, has also been stationary. But in England and France, which, as we shall presently see, are the countries where scepticism first openly appeared, and where it has been most diffused, the results are altogether different; and the love of inquiry being encouraged, there has arisen that constantly-progressive knowledge to which these two great nations owe their prosperity. In the remaining part of this volume, I shall trace the history of this principle in France and England, and examine the different forms under which it has appeared, and the way in which those forms have affected the national interests. In the order of the investigation, I shall give the precedence to England; because, for the reasons already stated, its civilization must be deemed more normal than that of France; and therefore, notwithstanding its numerous deficiencies, it approaches the natural type more closely than its great neighbour has been able to do. But as the fullest details respecting English civilization will be found in the body of the present work, I intend in the Introduction to devote merely a single chapter to it, and to consider our national history simply in reference to the immediate consequences of the sceptical movement; reserving for a future occasion those subsidiary matters which, though less comprehensive, are still of great value. And as the growth of religious toleration is undoubtedly the most important of all, I will, in the first place, state the circumstances under which it appeared in England in the sixteenth century; and I will then point out how other events, which immediately followed, were part of the same progress, and were indeed merely the same principles acting in different directions.
A careful study of the history of religious toleration will prove, that in every Christian country where it has been adopted, it has been forced upon the clergy by the authority of the secular classes.[545] At the present day, it is still unknown to those nations among whom the ecclesiastical power is stronger than the temporal power; and as this, during many centuries, was the general condition, it is not wonderful that, in the early history of Europe, we should find scarcely a trace of so wise and benevolent an opinion. But at the moment when Elizabeth mounted the throne of England, our country was about equally divided between two hostile creeds; and the queen, with remarkable ability, contrived during some time so to balance the rival powers, as to allow to neither a decisive preponderance. This was the first instance which had been seen in Europe of a government successfully carried on without the active participation of the spiritual authority; and the consequence was, that for several years the principle of toleration, though still most imperfectly understood, was pushed to an extent which is truly surprising for so barbarous an age.[546] Unhappily, after a time, various circumstances, which I shall relate in their proper place, induced Elizabeth to change a policy which she, even with all her wisdom, perhaps considered to be a dangerous experiment, and for which the knowledge of the country was as yet hardly ripe. But although she now allowed the Protestants to gratify their hatred against the Catholics, there was, in the midst of the sanguinary scenes which followed, one circumstance very worthy of remark. Although many persons were most unquestionably executed merely for their religion, no one ventured to state their religion as the cause of their execution.[547] The most barbarous punishments were inflicted upon them; but they were told that they might escape the punishment by renouncing certain principles which were said to be injurious to the safety of the state.[548] It is true, that many of these principles were such as no Catholic could abandon without at the same time abandoning his religion, of which they formed an essential part. But the mere fact that the spirit of persecution was driven to such a subterfuge, showed that a great progress had been made by the age. A most important point, indeed, was gained when the bigot became a hypocrite; and when the clergy, though willing to burn men for the good of their souls, were obliged to justify their cruelty by alleging considerations of a more temporal, and, as they considered, a less important character.[549]
A remarkable evidence of the change that was then taking place, is found in the two most important theological works which appeared in England during the reign of Elizabeth. Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity was published at the end of the sixteenth century,[550] and is still considered one of the greatest bulwarks of our national church. If we compare this work with Jewel's Apology for the Church of England, which was written thirty years before it,[551] we shall at once be struck by the different methods these eminent writers employed. Both Hooker and Jewel were men of learning and genius. Both of them were familiar with the Bible, the Fathers, and the Councils. Both of them wrote with the avowed object of defending the Church of England; and both of them were well acquainted with the ordinary weapons of theological controversy. But here the resemblance stops. The men were very similar; their works are entirely different. During the thirty years which had elapsed, the English intellect had made immense progress; and the arguments which in the time of Jewel were found perfectly satisfactory, would not have been listened to in the time of Hooker. The work of Jewel is full of quotations from the Fathers and the Councils, whose mere assertions, when they are uncontradicted by Scripture, he seems to regard as positive proofs. Hooker, though he shows much respect to the Councils, lays little stress upon the Fathers, and evidently considered that his readers would not pay much attention to their unsupported opinions. Jewel inculcates the importance of faith; Hooker insists upon the exercise of reason.[552] The first employs all his talents in collecting the decisions of antiquity, and in deciding upon the meaning which they may be supposed to bear. The other quotes the ancients, not so much from respect for their authority, as with the view of illustrating his own arguments. Thus, for instance, both Hooker and Jewel assert the undoubted right of the sovereign to interfere in ecclesiastical affairs. Jewel, however, fancied that he had proved the right, when he had pointed out that it was exercised by Moses, by Joshua, by David, and by Solomon.[553] On the other hand, Hooker lays down that this right exists, not because it is ancient, but because it is advisable; and because it is unjust to suppose that men who are not ecclesiastics will consent to be bound by laws which ecclesiastics alone have framed.[554] In the same opposite spirit do these great writers conduct their defence of their own church. Jewel, like all the authors of his time, had exercised his memory more than his reason; and he thinks to settle the whole dispute by crowding together texts from the Bible, with the opinions of the commentators upon them.[555] But Hooker, who lived in the age of Shakespeare and Bacon, found himself constrained to take views of a far more comprehensive character. His defence rests neither upon tradition nor upon commentators, nor ever upon revelation; but he is content that the pretensions of the hostile parties shall be decided by their applicability to the great exigencies of society, and by the ease with which they adapt themselves to the general purposes of ordinary life.[556]
It requires but little penetration to see the immense importance of the change which these two great works represent. As long as an opinion in theology was defended by the old dogmatic method, it was impossible to assail it without incurring the imputation of heresy. But when it was chiefly defended by human reasoning, its support was seriously weakened. For by this means the element of uncertainty was let in. It might be alleged, that the arguments of one sect are as good as those of another; and that we cannot be sure of the truth of our principles, until we have heard what is to be said on the opposite side. According to the old theological theory, it was easy to justify the most barbarous persecution. If a man knew that the only true religion was the one which he professed, and if he also knew that those who died in a contrary opinion were doomed to everlasting perdition—if he knew these things beyond the remotest possibility of a doubt, he might fairly argue, that it is merciful to punish the body in order to save the soul, and secure to immortal beings their future salvation, even though he employed so sharp a remedy as the halter or the stake.[557] But if this same man is taught to think that questions of religion are to be settled by reason as well as by faith, he can scarcely avoid the reflection, that the reason even of the strongest minds is not infallible, since it has led the ablest men to the most opposite conclusions. When this idea is once diffused among a people, it cannot fail to influence their conduct. No one of common sense and common honesty will dare to levy upon another, on account of his religion, the extreme penalty of the law, when he knows it possible that his own opinions may be wrong, and that those of the man he has punished may be right. From the moment when questions of religion begin to evade the jurisdiction of faith, and submit to the jurisdiction of reason, persecution becomes a crime of the deepest dye. Thus it was in England in the seventeenth century. As theology became more reasonable, it became less confident, and therefore more merciful. Seventeen years after the publication of the great work of Hooker, two men were publicly burned by the English bishops, for holding heretical opinions.[558] But this was the last gasp of expiring bigotry; and since that memorable day, the soil of England has never been stained by the blood of a man who has suffered for his religious creed.[559]
We have thus seen the rise of that scepticism which in physics must always be the beginning of science, and in religion must always be the beginning of toleration. There is, indeed, no doubt that in both cases individual thinkers may, by a great effort of original genius, emancipate themselves from the operation of this law. But in the progress of nations no such emancipation is possible. As long as men refer the movements of the comets to the immediate finger of God, and as long as they believe that an eclipse is one of the modes by which the Deity expresses his anger, they will never be guilty of the blasphemous presumption of attempting to predict such supernatural appearances. Before they could dare to investigate the causes of these mysterious phenomena, it is necessary that they should believe, or at all events that they should suspect, that the phenomena themselves were capable of being explained by the human mind. In the same way, until men are content in some degree to bring their religion before the bar of their own reason, they never can understand how it is that there should be a diversity of creeds, or how any one can differ from themselves without being guilty of the most enormous and unpardonable crime.[560]
If we now continue to trace the progress of opinions in England, we shall see the full force of these remarks. A general spirit of inquiry, of doubt, and even of insubordination, began to occupy the minds of men. In physics, it enabled them, almost at a blow, to throw off the shackles of antiquity, and give birth to sciences founded not on notions of old, but on individual observations and individual experiments.[561] In politics, it stimulated them to rise against the government, and eventually bring their king to the scaffold. In religion, it vented itself in a thousand sects, each of which proclaimed, and often exaggerated, the efficiency of private judgment.[562] The details of this vast movement form one of the most interesting parts of the history of England: but without anticipating what I must hereafter relate, I will at present mention only one instance, which, from the circumstances attending it, is very characteristic of the age. The celebrated work by Chillingworth on the Religion of Protestants, is generally admitted to be the best defence which the Reformers have been able to make against the Church of Rome.[563] It was published in 1637,[564] and the position of the author would induce us to look for the fullest display of bigotry that was consistent with the spirit of his time. Chillingworth had recently abandoned the creed which he now came forward to attack; and he, therefore, might be expected to have that natural inclination to dogmatize with which apostasy is usually accompanied. Besides this, he was the godson and the intimate friend of Laud,[565] whose memory is still loathed, as the meanest, the most cruel, and the most narrowminded man who ever sat on the episcopal bench.[566] He was, moreover, a fellow of Oxford, and was a constant resident at that ancient university, which has always been esteemed as the refuge of superstition, and which has preserved to our own day its unenviable fame.[567] If now we turn to the work that was written under these auspices, we can scarcely believe that it was produced in the same generation, and in the same country, where, only twenty-six years before, two men had been publicly burned because they advocated opinions different to those of the established church. It is, indeed, a most remarkable proof of the prodigious energy of that great movement which was now going on, that its pressure should be felt under circumstances the most hostile to it which can possibly be conceived; and that a friend of Laud, and a fellow of Oxford, should, in a grave theological treatise, lay down principles utterly subversive of that theological spirit which for many centuries had enslaved the whole of Europe.
In this great work, all authority in matters of religion is openly set at defiance. Hooker, indeed, had appealed from the jurisdiction of the Fathers to the jurisdiction of reason; he had, however, been careful to add, that the reason of individuals ought to bow before that of the church, as we find it expressed in great Councils, and in the general voice of ecclesiastical tradition.[568] But Chillingworth would hear of none of these things. He would admit of no reservations which tended to limit the sacred right of private judgment. He not only went far beyond Hooker in neglecting the Fathers,[569] but he even ventured to despise the Councils. Although the sole object of his work was to decide on the conflicting claims of the two greatest sects into which the Christian Church has broken, he never quotes as authorities the Councils of that very church respecting which the disputes were agitated.[570] His strong and subtle intellect, penetrating the depths of the subject, despised that sort of controversy which had long busied the minds of men. In discussing the points upon which the Catholics and Protestants were at issue, he does not inquire whether the doctrines in question met the approval of the early church, but he asks if they are in accordance with human reason; and he does not hesitate to say that, however true they may be, no man is bound to believe them if he finds that they are repugnant to the dictates of his own understanding. Nor will he consent that faith should supply the absence of authority. Even this favourite principle of theologians is by Chillingworth made to yield to the supremacy of the human reason.[571] Reason, he says, gives us knowledge; while faith only gives us belief, which is a part of knowledge, and is, therefore, inferior to it. It is by reason, and not by faith, that we must discriminate in religious matters; and it is by reason alone that we can distinguish truth from falsehood. Finally, he solemnly reminds his readers, that in religious matters no one ought to be expected to draw strong conclusions from imperfect premises, or to credit improbable statements upon scanty evidence; still less, he says, was it ever intended that men should so prostitute their reason, as to believe with infallible faith that which they are unable to prove with infallible arguments.[572]
No one of ordinary reflection can fail to perceive the manifest tendency of these opinions. But what is more important to observe is, the process through which, in the march of civilization, the human mind had been obliged to pass before it could reach such elevated views. The Reformation, by destroying the dogma of an infallible church, had of course weakened the reverence which was paid to ecclesiastical antiquity. Still, such was the force of old associations, that our countrymen long continued to respect what they had ceased to venerate. Thus it was, that Jewel, though recognizing the supreme authority of the Bible, had, in cases where it was silent or ambiguous, anxiously appealed to the early church, by whose decision he supposed all difficulties could be easily cleared. He, therefore, only used his reason to ascertain the discrepancies which existed between Scripture and tradition; but when they did not clash, he paid what is now considered a superstitious deference to antiquity. Thirty years after him came Hooker;[573] who made a step in advance, and laying down principles from which Jewel would have shrunk with fear, did much to weaken that which it was reserved for Chillingworth utterly to destroy. Thus it is, that these three great men represent the three distinct epochs of the three successive generations in which they respectively lived. In Jewel, reason is, if I may so say, the superstructure of the system; but authority is the basis upon which the superstructure is built. In Hooker, authority is only the superstructure, and reason is the basis.[574] But in Chillingworth, whose writings were harbingers of the coming storm, authority entirely disappears, and the whole fabric of religion is made to rest upon the way in which the unaided reason of man shall interpret the decrees of an omnipotent God.
The immense success of this great work of Chillingworth, must have aided that movement of which it is itself an evidence.[575] It formed a decisive vindication of religious dissent;[576] and thus justified the breaking up of the Anglican church, which the same generation lived to witness. Its fundamental principle was adopted by the most influential writers of the seventeenth century,—such as Hales, Owen, Taylor, Burnet, Tillotson, Locke, and even the cautious and time-serving Temple; all of whom insisted upon the authority of private judgment, as forming a tribunal from which no one had the power of appeal. The inference to be drawn from this seems obvious.[577] If the ultimate test of truth is individual judgment, and if no one can affirm that the judgments of men, which are often contradictory, can ever be infallible, it follows of necessity that there is no decisive criterion of religious truth. This is a melancholy, and, as I firmly believe, a most inaccurate conclusion; but it is one which every nation must entertain, before it can achieve that great work of toleration, which, even in our own country, and in our own time, is not yet consummated. It is necessary that men should learn to doubt, before they begin to tolerate; and that they should recognize the fallibility of their own opinions, before they respect the opinions of their opponents.[578] This great process is far from being yet completed in any country; and the European mind, barely emerged from its early credulity, and from an overweening confidence in its own belief, is still in a middle, and, so to say, a probationary stage. When that stage shall be finally passed, when we shall have learned to estimate men solely by their character and their acts, and not at all by their theological dogmas, we shall then be able to form our religious opinions by that purely transcendental process, of which in every age glimpses have been granted to a few gifted minds. That this is the direction in which things are now hastening, must be clear to every one who has studied the progress of modern civilization. Within the short space of three centuries, the old theological spirit has been compelled, not only to descend from its long-established supremacy, but to abandon those strongholds to which, in the face of advancing knowledge, it has vainly attempted to secure a retreat. All its most cherished pretensions it has been forced gradually to relinquish.[579] And although in England a temporary prominence has recently been given to certain religious controversies, still the circumstances attending them show the alteration in the character of the age. Disputes which, a century ago, would have set the whole kingdom in a flame, are now regarded with indifference by the vast majority of educated men. The complications of modern society, and the immense variety of interests into which it is divided, have done much to distract the intellect, and to prevent it from dwelling upon subjects which a less-occupied people would deem of paramount importance. Besides this, the accumulations of science are far superior to those of any former age, and offer suggestions of such surpassing interest, that nearly all our greatest thinkers devote to them the whole of their time, and refuse to busy themselves with matters of mere speculative belief. The consequence is, that what used to be considered the most important of all questions, is now abandoned to inferior men, who mimic the zeal, without possessing the influence of those really great divines whose works are among the glories of our early literature. These turbulent polemics have, indeed, distracted the church by their clamour, but they have not made the slightest impression upon the great body of English intellect; and an overwhelming majority of the nation is notoriously opposed to that monastic and ascetic religion which it is now vainly attempted to reconstruct. The truth is, that the time for these things has gone by. Theological interests have long ceased to be supreme; and the affairs of nations are no longer regulated according to ecclesiastical views.[580] In England, where the march has been more rapid than elsewhere, this change is very observable. In every other department we have had a series of great and powerful thinkers, who have done honour to their country, and have won the admiration of mankind. But for more than a century, we have not produced a single original work in the whole field of controversial theology. For more than a century, the apathy on this subject has been so marked, that there has been made no addition of value to that immense mass of divinity which, among thinking men, is in every successive generation losing something of its former interest.[581]
These are only some of the innumerable signs, which must be discerned by every man who is not blinded by the prejudices of an imperfect education. An immense majority of the clergy,—some from ambitious feelings, but the greater part, I believe, from conscientious motives,—are striving to check the progress of that scepticism which is now gathering in upon us from every quarter.[582] It is time that these well-intentioned, though mistaken, men should see the delusion under which they labour. That by which they are so much alarmed, is the intermediate step which leads from superstition to toleration. The higher order of minds have passed through this stage, and are approaching what is probably the ultimate form of the religious history of the human race. But the people at large, and even some of those who are commonly called educated men, are only now entering that earlier epoch in which scepticism[583] is the leading feature of the mind. So far, therefore, from our apprehensions being excited by this rapidly-increasing spirit, we ought rather to do everything in our power to encourage that which, though painful to some, is salutary to all; because by it alone can religious bigotry be effectually destroyed. Nor ought we to be surprised that, before this can be done, a certain degree of suffering must first intervene.[584] If one age believes too much, it is but a natural reaction that another age should believe too little. Such are the imperfections of our nature, that we are compelled, by the very laws of its progress, to pass through those crises of scepticism and of mental distress, which to a vulgar eye are states of national decline and national shame; but which are only as the fire by which the gold must be purged before it can leave its dross in the pot of the refiner. To apply the imagery of the great allegorist, it is necessary that the poor pilgrim, laden with the weight of accumulated superstitions, should struggle through the Slough of Despond and the Valley of Death, before he can reach that glorious city, glittering with gold and with jewels, of which the first sight is sufficient recompense for his toils and his fears.
During the whole of the seventeenth century, this double movement of scepticism and of toleration continued to advance; though its progress was constantly checked by the two successors of Elizabeth, who in every thing reversed the enlightened policy of the great queen. These princes exhausted their strength in struggling against the tendencies of an age they were unable to understand; but, happily, the spirit which they wished to quench had reached a height that mocked their control. At the same time, the march of the English mind was still farther aided by the nature of those disputes which, during half a century, divided the country. In the reign of Elizabeth, the great contest had been between the church and its opponents; between those who were orthodox, and those who were heretical. But in the reigns of James and Charles, theology was for the first time merged in politics. It was no longer a struggle of creeds and dogmas; but it was a struggle between those who favoured the crown, and those who supported the parliament. The minds of men, thus fixed upon matters of real importance, neglected those inferior pursuits that had engrossed the attention of their fathers.[585] When, at length, public affairs had reached their crisis, the hard fate of the king, which eventually advanced the interests of the throne, was most injurious to those of the church. There can, indeed, be no doubt that the circumstances connected with the execution of Charles, inflicted a blow upon the whole system of ecclesiastical authority, from which, in this country, it has never been able to recover. The violent death of the king excited the sympathies of the people; and by thus strengthening the hands of the royalists, hastened the restoration of the monarchy.[586] But the mere name of that great party which had risen to power, was suggestive of the change that, in a religious point of view, was taking place in the national mind. It was, indeed, no light thing, that England should be ruled by men who called themselves Independents; and who, under that title, not only beat back the pretensions of the clergy, but professed an unbounded contempt for all those rites and dogmas which the clergy had, during many centuries, continued to amass.[587] True it is, that the Independents did not always push to their full extent the consequences of their own doctrines.[588] Still, it was a great matter to have those doctrines recognized by the constituted authorities of the state. Besides this, it is important to remark, that the Puritans were more fanatical than superstitious.[589] They were so ignorant of the real principles of government, as to direct penal laws against private vices; and to suppose that immorality could be stemmed by legislation.[590] But, notwithstanding this serious error, they always resisted the aggressions even of their own clergy; and the destruction of the old episcopal hierarchy, though perhaps too hastily effected, must have produced many beneficial results. When the great party by whom these things were accomplished, was at length overthrown, the progress of events still continued to tend in the same direction. After the Restoration, the church, though reinstated in her ancient pomp, had evidently lost her ancient power.[591] At the same time, the new king, from levity, rather than from reason, despised the disputes of theologians, and treated questions of religion with what he considered a philosophic indifference.[592] The courtiers followed his example, and thought they could not err in imitating him, whom they regarded as the Lord's anointed. The results were such as must be familiar even to the most superficial readers of English literature. That grave and measured scepticism, by which the Independents had been characterized, lost all its decorum when it was transplanted into the ungenial atmosphere of a court. The men by whom the king was surrounded, were unequal to the difficulties of suspense; and they attempted to fortify their doubts by the blasphemous expression of a wild and desperate infidelity. With scarcely an exception, all those writers who were most favoured by Charles, exhausted the devices of their ribald spirit, in mocking a religion, of the nature of which they were profoundly ignorant. These impious buffooneries would, by themselves, have left no permanent impression on the age; but they deserve attention, because they were the corrupt and exaggerated representatives of a more general tendency. They were the unwholesome offspring of that spirit of disbelief, and of that daring revolt against authority, which characterized the most eminent Englishmen during the seventeenth century. It was this which caused Locke to be an innovator in his philosophy, and an Unitarian in his creed. It was this which made Newton a Socinian; which forced Milton to be the great enemy of the church, and which not only turned the poet into a rebel, but tainted with Arianism the Paradise Lost. In a word, it was the same contempt for tradition, and the same resolution to spurn the yoke, which, being first carried into philosophy by Bacon, was afterwards carried into politics by Cromwell; and which, during that very generation, was enforced in theology by Chillingworth, Owen, and Hales; in metaphysics by Hobbes and Glanvil; and in the theory of government by Harrington, Sydney, and Locke.
The progress which the English intellect was now making towards shaking off ancient superstitions,[593] was still further aided by the extraordinary zeal displayed in the cultivation of the physical sciences. This, like all great social movements, is clearly traceable to the events by which it was preceded. It was partly cause, and partly effect, of the increasing incredulity of the age. The scepticism of the educated classes made them dissatisfied with those long-established opinions, which only rested on unsupported authority; and this gave rise to a desire to ascertain how far such notions might be verified or refuted by the real condition of things. A curious instance of the rapid progress of this spirit may be found in the works of an author who was one of the most eminent among the mere literary men of his time. While the Civil War was barely decided, and three years before the execution of the king, Sir Thomas Browne published his celebrated work, called Inquiries into Vulgar and Common Errors.[594] This able and learned production has the merit of anticipating some of those results which more modern inquirers have obtained;[595] but it is chiefly remarkable, as being the first systematic and deliberate onslaught ever made in England upon those superstitious fancies which were then prevalent respecting the external world. And what is still more interesting is, that the circumstances under which it appeared make it evident, that while the learning and genius of the author belonged to himself, the scepticism which he displayed respecting popular belief was forced on him by the pressure of the age.
In or about 1633, when the throne was still occupied by a superstitious prince; when the Church of England was at the height of her apparent power; and when men were incessantly persecuted for their religious opinions—this same Sir Thomas Browne wrote his Religio Medici,[596] in which we find all the qualities of his later work, except the scepticism. Indeed, in the Religio Medici, there is shown a credulity that must have secured the sympathy of those classes which were then dominant. Of all the prejudices which at that time were deemed an essential part of the popular creed, there was not one which Browne ventured to deny. He announces his belief in the philosopher's stone;[597] in spirits, and tutelary angels;[598] and in palmistry.[599] He not only peremptorily affirms the reality of witches, but he says that those who deny their existence are not merely infidels, but atheists.[600] He carefully tells us that he reckons his nativity, not from his birth, but from his baptism; for before he was baptized, he could not be said to exist.[601] To these touches of wisdom, he moreover adds, that the more improbable any proposition is, the greater his willingness to assent to it; but that when a thing is actually impossible, he is on that very account prepared to believe it.[602]
Such were the opinions put forth by Sir Thomas Browne in the first of the two great works he presented to the world. But in his Inquiries into Vulgar Errors, there is displayed a spirit so entirely different, that if it were not for the most decisive evidence, we could hardly believe it to be written by the same man. The truth, however, is, that during the twelve years which elapsed between the two works, there was completed that vast social and intellectual revolution, of which the overthrow of the church and the execution of the king were but minor incidents. We know from the literature, from the private correspondence, and from the public acts of that time, how impossible it was, even for the strongest minds, to escape the effects of the general intoxication. No wonder, then, that Browne, who certainly was inferior to several of his contemporaries, should have been affected by a movement which they were unable to resist. It would have been strange, indeed, if he alone had remained uninfluenced by that sceptical spirit, which, because it had been arbitrarily repressed, had now broken all bounds, and in the reaction soon swept away those institutions which vainly attempted to stop its course.
It is in this point of view that a comparison of the two works becomes highly interesting, and, indeed, very important. In this, his later production, we hear no more about believing things because they are impossible; but we are told of ‘the two great pillars of truth, experience and solid reason.’[603] We are also reminded that one main cause of error is ‘adherence unto authority;’[604] that another is, ‘neglect of inquiry;’[605] and, strange to say, that a third is ‘credulity.’[606] All this was not very consistent with the old theological spirit; and we need not, therefore, be surprised that Browne not only exposes some of the innumerable blunders of the Fathers,[607] but, after speaking of errors in general, curtly adds: ‘Many others there are, which we resign unto divinity, and perhaps deserve not controversy.’[608]
The difference between these two works is no bad measure of the rapidity of that vast movement which, in the middle of the seventeenth century, was seen in every branch of practical and speculative life. After the death of Bacon, one of the most distinguished Englishmen was certainly Boyle, who, if compared with his contemporaries, may be said to rank immediately below Newton, though, of course, very inferior to him as an original thinker.[609] With the additions he made to our knowledge we are not immediately concerned; but it may be mentioned, that he was the first who instituted exact experiments into the relation between colour and heat;[610] and by this means, not only ascertained some very important facts, but laid a foundation for that union between optics and thermotics, which, though not yet completed, now merely waits for some great philosopher to strike out a generalization large enough to cover both, and thus fuse the two sciences into a single study. It is also to Boyle, more than to any other Englishman, that we owe the science of hydrostatics, in the state in which we now possess it.[611] He is the original discoverer of that beautiful law, so fertile in valuable results, according to which the elasticity of air varies as its density.[612] And, in the opinion of one of the most eminent modern naturalists, it was Boyle who opened up those chemical inquiries, which went on accumulating until, a century later, they supplied the means by which Lavoisier and his contemporaries fixed the real basis of chemistry, and enabled it for the first time to take its proper stand among those sciences that deal with the external world.[613]
The application of these discoveries to the happiness of Man, and particularly to what may be called the material interests of civilization, will be traced in another part of this work; but what I now wish to observe, is the way in which such investigations harmonized with the movement I am attempting to describe. In the whole of his physical inquiries, Boyle constantly insists upon two fundamental principles: namely, the importance of individual experiments, and the comparative unimportance of the facts which, on these subjects, antiquity has handed down.[614] These are the two great keys to his method: they are the views which he inherited from Bacon, and they are also the views which have been held by every man who, during the last two centuries, has added anything of moment to the stock of human knowledge. First to doubt,[615] then to inquire, and then to discover, has been the process universally followed by our great teachers. So strongly did Boyle feel this, that though he was an eminently religious man,[616] he gave to the most popular of his scientific works the title of The Sceptical Chemist; meaning to intimate, that until men were sceptical concerning the chemistry of their own time, it would be impossible that they should advance far in the career which lay before them. Nor can we fail to observe that this remarkable work, in which such havoc was made with old notions, was published in 1661,[617] the year after the accession of Charles II., in whose reign the spread of incredulity was indeed rapid, since it was seen not only among the intellectual classes, but even among the nobles and personal friends of the king. It is true, that in that rank of society, it assumed an offensive and degenerate form. But the movement must have been one of no common energy which, in so early a stage, could thus penetrate the recesses of the palace, and excite the minds of the courtiers; a lazy and feeble race, who from the frivolity of their habits are, under ordinary circumstances, predisposed to superstition, and prepared to believe whatever the wisdom of their fathers has bequeathed to them.
In everything this tendency was now seen. Everything marked a growing determination to subordinate old notions to new inquiries. At the very moment when Boyle was prosecuting his labours, Charles II. incorporated the Royal Society, which was formed with the avowed object of increasing knowledge by direct experiment.[618] And it is well worthy of remark, that the charter now first granted to this celebrated institution declares that its object is the extension of natural knowledge, as opposed to that which is supernatural.[619]
It is easy to imagine with what terror and disgust these things were viewed by those inordinate admirers of antiquity who, solely occupied in venerating past ages, are unable either to respect the present or hope for the future. These great obstructors of mankind played, in the seventeenth century, the same part as they play in our own day, rejecting every novelty, and therefore opposing every improvement. The angry contest which arose between the two parties, and the hostility directed against the Royal Society, as the first institution in which the idea of progress was distinctly embodied, are among the most instructive parts of our history, and on another occasion I shall relate them at considerable length. At present it is enough to say, that the reactionary party, though led by an overwhelming majority of the clergy, was entirely defeated; as, indeed, was to be expected, seeing that their opponents had on their side nearly all the intellect of the country, and were moreover reinforced by such aid as the court could bestow. The progress was, in truth, so rapid as to carry away with it some of the ablest members even of the ecclesiastical profession; their love of knowledge proving too strong for the old traditions in which they had been bred. But these were exceptional cases, and, speaking generally, there is no doubt that in the reign of Charles II. the antagonism between physical science and the theological spirit was such as to induce nearly the whole of the clergy to array themselves against the science, and seek to bring it into discredit. Nor ought we to be surprised that they should have adopted this course. That inquisitive and experimental spirit which they wished to check was not only offensive to their prejudices, but it was also detrimental to their power. For, in the first place, the mere habit of cultivating physical science taught men to require a severity of proof which it was soon found that the clergy were, in their own department, unable to supply. And, in the second place, the additions made to physical knowledge opened new fields of thought, and thus tended still further to divert attention from ecclesiastical topics. Both these effects would of course be limited to the comparatively few persons who were interested in scientific inquiries: it is, however, to be observed, that the ultimate results of such inquiries must have been extended over a far wider surface. This may be called their secondary influence; and the way in which it operated is well worth our attention, because an acquaintance with it will go far to explain the reason of that marked opposition which has always existed between superstition and knowledge.
It is evident, that a nation perfectly ignorant of physical laws will refer to supernatural causes all the phenomena by which it is surrounded.[620] But so soon as natural science begins to do its work, there are introduced the elements of a great change. Each successive discovery, by ascertaining the law that governs certain events, deprives them of that apparent mystery in which they were formerly involved.[621] The love of the marvellous becomes proportionably diminished; and when any science has made such progress as to enable those who are acquainted with it to foretell the events with which it deals, it is clear that the whole of those events are at once withdrawn from the jurisdiction of supernatural, and brought under the authority of natural powers.[622] The business of physical philosophy is, to explain external phenomena with a view to their prediction; and every successful prediction which is recognised by the people causes a disruption of one of those links which, as it were, bind the imagination to the occult and invisible world. Hence it is that, supposing other things equal, the superstition of a nation must always bear an exact proportion to the extent of its physical knowledge. This may be in some degree verified by the ordinary experience of mankind. For if we compare the different classes of society, we shall find that they are superstitious in proportion as the phenomena with which they are brought in contact have or have not been explained by natural laws. The credulity of sailors is notorious, and every literature contains evidence of the multiplicity of their superstitions, and of the tenacity with which they cling to them.[623] This is perfectly explicable by the principle I have laid down. Meteorology has not yet been raised to a science; and the laws which regulate winds and storms being in consequence still unknown, it naturally follows, that the class of men most exposed to their dangers should be precisely the class which is most superstitious.[624] On the other hand, soldiers live upon an element much more obedient to man, and they are less liable than sailors to those risks which defy the calculations of science. Soldiers, therefore, have fewer inducements to appeal to supernatural interference; and it is universally observed, that as a body they are less superstitious than sailors. If, again, we compare agriculturists with manufacturers, we shall see the operation of the same principle. To the cultivators of land, one of the most important circumstances is the weather, which, if it turn out unfavourable, may at once defeat all their calculations. But science not having yet succeeded in discovering the laws of rain, men are at present unable to foretell it for any considerable period; the inhabitant of the country is, therefore, driven to believe that it is the result of supernatural agency, and we still see the extraordinary spectacle of prayers offered up in our churches for dry weather or for wet weather; a superstition which to future ages will appear as childish as the feelings of pious awe with which our fathers regarded the presence of a comet, or the approach of an eclipse. We are now acquainted with the laws which determine the movements of comets and eclipses; and as we are able to predict their appearance, we have ceased to pray that we may be preserved from them.[625] But because our researches into the phenomena of rain happen to have been less successful,[626] we resort to the impious contrivance of calling in the aid of the Deity to supply those deficiencies in science which are the result of our own sloth; and we are not ashamed, in our public churches, to prostitute the rites of religion by using them as a cloak to conceal an ignorance we ought frankly to confess.[627] The agriculturist is thus taught to ascribe to supernatural agency the most important phenomena with which he is concerned;[628] and there can be no doubt that this is one of the causes of those superstitious feelings by which the inhabitants of the country are unfavourably contrasted with those of the town.[629] But the manufacturer, and, indeed, nearly every one engaged in the business of cities, has employments, the success of which being regulated by his own abilities, has no connexion with those unexplained events that perplex the imagination of the cultivators of the earth. He who, by his ingenuity, works up the raw material, is evidently less affected by uncontrollable occurrences, than he by whom the raw material is originally grown. Whether it is fair, or whether it is wet, he pursues his labours with equal success, and learns to rely solely upon his own energy, and the cunning of his own arm. As the sailor is naturally more superstitious than the soldier, because he has to deal with a more unstable element; just in the same way is the agriculturist more superstitious than the mechanic, because he is more frequently and more seriously affected by events which the ignorance of some men makes them call capricious, and the ignorance of other men makes them call supernatural.
It would be easy, by an extension of these remarks, to show how the progress of manufactures, besides increasing the national wealth, has done immense service to civilization, by inspiring Man with a confidence in his own resources;[630] and how, by giving rise to a new class of employments, it has, if I may so say, shifted the scene in which superstition is most likely to dwell. But to trace this would carry me beyond my present limits; and the illustrations already given are sufficient to explain how the theological spirit must have been diminished by that love of experimental science, which forms one of the principal features in the reign of Charles II.[631]
I have now laid before the reader what I conceive to be the point of view from which we ought to estimate a period whose true nature seems to me to have been grievously misunderstood. Those political writers who judge events without regard to that intellectual development of which they are but a part, will find much to condemn, and scarcely anything to approve, in the reign of Charles II. By such authors, I shall be censured for having travelled out of that narrow path in which history has been too often confined. And yet I am at a loss to perceive how it is possible, except by the adoption of such a course, to understand a period which, on a superficial view, is full of the grossest inconsistencies. This difficulty will be rendered very obvious, if we compare for a moment the nature of the government of Charles with the great things which, under that government, were peaceably effected. Never before was there such a want of apparent connexion between the means and the end. If we look only at the characters of the rulers, and at their foreign policy, we must pronounce the reign of Charles II. to be the worst that has ever been seen in England. If, on the other hand, we confine our observations to the laws which were passed, and to the principles which were established, we shall be obliged to confess that this same reign forms one of the brightest epochs in our national annals. Politically and morally, there were to be found in the government all the elements of confusion, of weakness, and of crime. The king himself was a mean and spiritless voluptuary, without the morals of a Christian, and almost without the feelings of a man.[632] His ministers, with the exception of Clarendon, whom he hated for his virtues, had not one of the attributes of statesmen, and nearly all of them were pensioned by the crown of France.[633] The weight of taxation was increased,[634] while the security of the kingdom was diminished.[635] By the forced surrender of the charters of the towns, our municipal rights were endangered.[636] By shutting the exchequer, our national credit was destroyed.[637] Though immense sums were spent in maintaining our naval and military power, we were left so defenceless, that when a war broke out, which had long been preparing, we seemed suddenly to be taken by surprise. Such was the miserable incapacity of the government, that the fleets of Holland were able, not only to ride triumphant round our coasts, but to sail up the Thames, attack our arsenals, burn our ships, and insult the metropolis of England.[638] Yet, notwithstanding all these things, it is an undoubted fact, that in this same reign of Charles II. more steps were taken in the right direction than had been taken, in any period of equal length, during the twelve centuries we had occupied the soil of Britain. By the mere force of that intellectual movement, which was unwittingly supported by the crown, there were effected, in the course of a few years, reforms which changed the face of society.[639] The two great obstacles by which the nation had long been embarrassed, consisted of a spiritual tyranny and a territorial tyranny: the tyranny of the church and the tyranny of the nobles. An attempt was now made to remedy these evils; not by palliatives, but by striking at the power of the classes who did the mischief. For now it was that a law was placed on the statute-book, taking away that celebrated writ, which enabled the bishops or their delegates to cause those men to be burned whose religion was different to their own.[640] Now it was that the clergy were deprived of the privilege of taxing themselves, and were forced to submit to an assessment made by the ordinary legislature.[641] Now, too, there was enacted a law forbidding any bishop, or any ecclesiastical court, to tender the ex-officio oath, by which the church had hitherto enjoyed the power of compelling a suspected person to criminate himself.[642] In regard to the nobles, it was also during the reign of Charles II. that the House of Lords, after a sharp struggle, was obliged to abandon its pretensions to an original jurisdiction in civil suits; and thus lost for ever an important resource for extending its own influence.[643] It was in the same reign that there was settled the right of the people to be taxed entirely by their representatives; the House of Commons having ever since retained the sole power of proposing money bills, and regulating the amount of imposts, merely leaving to the Peers the form of consenting to what has been already determined.[644] These were the attempts which were made to bridle the clergy and the nobles. But there were also effected other things of equal importance. By the destruction of the scandalous prerogatives of Purveyance and Preemption, a limit was set to the power of the sovereign to vex his refractory subjects.[645] By the Habeas Corpus Act, the liberty of every Englishman was made as certain as law could make it; it being guaranteed to him, that if accused of crime, he, instead of languishing in prison, as had often been the case, should be brought to a fair and speedy trial.[646] By the Statute of Frauds and Perjuries, a security hitherto unknown was conferred upon private property.[647] By the abolition of general impeachments, an end was put to a great engine of tyranny, with which powerful and unscrupulous men had frequently ruined their political adversaries.[648] By the cessation of those laws which restricted the liberty of printing, there was laid the foundation of that great Public Press, which, more than any other single cause, has diffused among the people a knowledge of their own power, and has thus, to an almost incredible extent, aided the progress of English civilization.[649] And, to complete this noble picture, there were finally destroyed those feudal incidents, which our Norman conquerors had imposed,—the military tenures; the court of wards; the fines for alienation; the right of forfeiture for marriage by reason of tenure; the aids, the homages, the escuages, the primer seisins; and all those mischievous subtleties, of which the mere names sound in modern ears as a wild and barbarous jargon, but which pressed upon our ancestors as real and serious evils.[650]