class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[Pg ix]"/> 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 God’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 damning 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 God 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