Gods of Our Fathers: The United States of Enlightenment
Why should we care what
the Founding Fathers believed, or did not believe, about religion? They went to
such great trouble to insulate faith from politics, and took such care to keep
their own convictions private, that it would scarcely matter if it could now be
proved that, say, George Washington was a secret Baptist. The ancestor of the
American Revolution was the English Revolution of the 1640s, whose leaders and
spokesmen were certainly Protestant fundamentalists, but that did not bind the
Framers and cannot be said to bind us, either. Indeed, the established
Protestants church in Britain was one of the models which can be quite sure the
signatories of 1776 were determined to avoid emulating.
Moreover, the
eighteenth-century scholars and gentlemen who gave us the U. S. Constitution
were in a relative state of innocence respecting knowledge of the cosmos, the
Earth, and the psyche, of the sort that has revolutionized the modern argument
over faith. Charles Darwin was born in Thomas Jefferson’s lifetime (on the same
day as Abraham Lincoln, as it happens), but Jefferson’s guesses about the
fossils found in Virginia were to Darwinism what alchemy is to chemistry. And
the insights of Einstein and Freud lay over a still more distant horizon. The
furthest that most skeptics could go was in the direction of an indeterminate
design which accepted that the natural order seemed to require a designer but
did not necessitate the belief that the said designer actually intervened in
human affairs. Invocations such as “nature’s god” were partly intended to hedge
this bet, while avoiding giving offense to the pious. Even Thomas Paine, the
most explicitly anti-Christian of the lot, wrote The Age of Reason as a defense of god from those who traduced him
in man-made screeds like the Bible.
Considering these
limitations, it is quite astonishing how irreligious the Founders actually
were. You might not easily guess, for example, who was the author of the
following words:
Oh! Lord! Do you think that a Protestant Popedom is
annihilated in America? Do you recollect, or have ever attended to the
ecclesiastical Strifes in Maryland Pensilvania [sic], New York, and every part
of England? What a mercy it is that these People cannot whip and crop, and
pillory and roast, as yet in the U.S.! If they could they would…. There is a
germ of religion in human nature so strong that whenever an order of men can
persuade the people by flattery or terror that they have salvation at their
disposal, there can be no end to fraud, violence, or usurpation.
That
was John Adams, in relatively mild form. He was also to point out, though
without too much optimism, the secret weapon that secularists had at their disposal
– namely the profusion of different religious factions:
The multitude and diversity of them, You will say, is
our Security against them all. God grant it. But if we consider that the
Presbyterians and Methodists are far the most numerous and the most likely to
unite; let a George Whitefield arise, with a military cast, like Mahomet, or
Loyola, and what will become of all the other Sects who can never unite?
George
Whitefield was the charismatic preacher who is superbly mocked in Benjamin
Franklin’s Autobiography. Of Franklin
it seems almost certainly right to say that he was an atheist (Jerry Weinberg’s
excellent recent study Benjamin Franklin
Unmasked being the best reference here), but the master tacticians of
church-state separation, Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, were somewhat more
opaque about their beliefs. In passing the Virginia Statute for Religious
Freedom – the basis of the later First Amendment – they brilliantly exploited
the fear that each Christian sect had of persecution by the others. It was
easier to get the squabbling factions to agree on no tithes than it would have
been to get them to agree on tithes that might also benefit their doctrinal
rivals. In his famous “wall of separation” letter, assuring the Baptist of
Danbury, Connecticut, of their freedom from persecution, Jefferson was
responding to the expressed fear of this little community that they would
oppressed by – the Congregationalists of Connecticut.
This
same divide-and-rule tactic may have won him the election of 1800 that made him
president in the first place. In the face of a hysterical Federalist campaign
to blacken Jefferson as an infidel, the Voltaire of Monticello appealed
directly to those who feared the arrogance of the Presbyterians. Adams himself
thought that this had done the trick.
“With
the Baptists, Quakers, Methodists, and Moravians,” he wrote, “as well as the
Dutch and the German Lutherans and Calvinists, it had an immense effect, and
turned them in such numbers as decided the election. They said, let us an
Atheist or Deist or any thing rather than an establishment of Presbyterianism.”
The
essential point – that a religious neutral state is the chief guarantee of
religious pluralism – is the that some of today’s would-be theocrats are
determined to miss. Brooke Allen misses no chance to rub it in, sometimes
rather heavily stressing contemporary “faith-based” analogies. She is
especially interesting on the extent to which the Founders felt obliged to keep
their doubts on religion themselves. Madison, for example, did not find himself
able, during the war of 1812, to refuse demands for a national day of prayer
and fasting. But he confided his own reservations to his private papers,
published as “Detached Memoranda” only in 1946. It was in those pages, too, that
he expressed the view that to have chaplains opening Congress, or chaplains in
the armed forces, was unconstitutional.
Of
all these pen-portraits of religious reservation, the one most surprising to
most readers will probably be that of George Washington. While he was
president, he attended the Reverend James Abercrombie’s church, but on
“sacramental Sundays” left the congregation immediately before the taking of
communion. When reported for this by the good Reverend, he acknowledged the
reproof – and ceased attending church at all on those Sundays, which featured
“the Lord’s supper.” To do otherwise, as he put it, would be “an ostentatious
display of religious zeal arising altogether from his elevated station.”
Jefferson
was content to take part in public religious observances and to reserve his
scorn and contempt for Christianity for his intimate correspondents, but our
first president would not give an inch to hypocrisy. In that respect, if in no
other, the shady, ingratiating Parson Weems had him right.
In
his 1784 book, Reason: The Only Oracle of
Man, Ethan Allen wrote: “The doctrine of the Incarnation itself, and the
Virgin mother, does not merit a serious confutation and therefore is passed in
silence, except the mere mention of it.” John Adams was prepared to be a little
more engaged with theological subjects, in which he possessed a huge expertise,
but he also reposed his real faith in the bedrock of reason. Human
understanding, he wrote (seemingly following David Hume), is its own
revelation, and:
[h]as made it certain that two and one make three; and
that one is not three; nor can three be one…. Miracles or Prophecies might
frighten us out of our Witts; might scare us to death; might induce Us to lie;
to say that We believe that 2 and 2 makes 5. But we should not believe it. We
should know the contrary.
From
David Hume via ridicule of the Trinity to a prefiguration of Winston Smith! The
connection between religious skepticism and political liberty may not be an
absolute as that last allusion implies, but there is no doubt that some such
connection existed very vividly in the minds of those “men of the Enlightenment”
who adorned Philadelphia and Boston and New York and Washington as the eighteenth
century evolved into the nineteenth.
In
a first-class closing chapter on the intellectual and scientific world that
shaped the Framers, Allen discusses the wide influence then exerted by great
humanist thinkers like Hume, Shaftesbury, Bolingbroke, Locke, and Voltaire. It
became a point of principle as well as of practice to maintain that liberty of
conscience and the freedom of the individual were quite incompatible with any
compulsion in religion, just as they would be incompatible with any repression
of belief. (This is precisely why the French Revolution, which seemed to negate
the promise of Enlightenment, was to become such a painful cause of
disagreement, and worse, between Federalists and Republicans.)
In
1821 Thomas Jefferson wrote of his hope “that the human mind will some day get
back to the freedom it enjoyed 2000 years ago. This country, which has given
the world an example of physical liberty, owes to it that of moral emancipation
also.” I think that Allen is not wrong in comparing this to the finest passages
in Edward Gibbon. She causes us to catch our breath at the thought that, at
birth of the United States, there were men determined to connect it to a
philosophical wisdom that pre-dated the triumph of monotheism. It is the only
reason for entertaining the belief that America was ever blessed by
“Providence” – as Roger Williams named his open minded settlement in Rhode
Island, a refuge from the tyranny of Pilgrims and Puritans.
In
a time when the chief declared enemy of the American experiment is theocratic
fanaticism, we should stand together and demand, “Mr. Jefferson: Build Up That
Wall!”
(The Weekly Standard, December 11, 2006)
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