orce in both these reasons, but there were other causes at
work which contributed to the result.

One seems to have been the vagueness and unsatisfactoriness of the
constructive part of the Deists' work. They set themselves with vigour
to the work of destruction, but when this was completed--what next? The
religion which was to take the place of popular Christianity was at best
a singularly vague and intangible sort of thing. 'You are to follow
nature, and that will teach you what true Christianity is. If the facts
of the Bible don't agree, so much the worse for the facts.' There was an
inherent untenableness in this position.[182] Having gone thus far,
thoughtful men could not stand still. They must go on further or else
turn back. Some went forward in the direction of Hume, and found
themselves stranded in the dreary waste of pure scepticism, which was
something very different from genuine Deism. Others went backwards and
determined to stand upon the old ways, since no firm footing was given
them on the new. There was a want of any definite scheme or unanimity of
opinion on the part of the Deists. Collins boasted of the rise and
growth of a new sect. But, as Dr. Monk justly observes, 'the assumption
of a growing sect implies an uniformity of opinions which did not really
exist among the impugners of Christianity.'[183]

The independence of the Deists in relation to one another might render
it difficult to confute any particular tenet of the sect, for the simple
reason that there _was_ no sect: but this same independence prevented
them from making the impression upon the public mind which a compact
phalanx might have done. The Deists were a company of Free Lances rather
than a regular army, and effected no more than such irregular forces
usually do.

And here arises the question, What real hold had Deism upon the public
mind at all? There is abundance of contemporary evidence which would
lead us to believe that the majority of the nation were fast becoming
unchristianised. Bishop Butler was not the man to make a statement, and
especially a statement of such grave import, lightly, and his account of
the state of religion is melancholy indeed. 'It is come,' he writes, 'I
know not how, to be taken for granted, by many persons, that
Christianity is not so much as a subject of inquiry, but that it is now
at length discovered to be fictitious. And accordingly, they treat it as
if, in the present age, this were an agreed po