THE

WORKS

OF TUB

EIGHT REVEREND

WILLIAM WARBURTON, D.D,
HI - '
LORD BISHOP OF GLOUCESTER*
A NEW EDITION,
IN TWELVE VOLUMES.

TO WHICH IS PB.EFIXED
A DISCOURSE Br WAY OF GENERAL PREFACE i
COKTAININO
SOME ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE, 'WRITINGS, AND CHARACTER
OF THE AUTHOR;
BY RICHARD HURD, D.D.
LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER.
VOLUME THE FIRST.

3Lonbont
Printed by LuTte -ISansard S[ Sons, near Lincom's-Inn Pields,
FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, IN THE STRAND.

1811,

MhcS V.I

[ iii J

ADVERTISEMENT.

THE Edition of Bishop Warburton's Works
by Bishop Hurd, published in 1788 in seven volumes
quar1|o, being out of print, it has been thought advisable
to give this new Edition a form more adapted to
the prevailing taste ; to improve the arrangement,
and to make the whole correspond, in size and appear
ance, with the intended Edition of the Works of
Bishop Hurd. In the annals of our Church, 4t -would
not, perhaps, be easy to find two Prelates of equally
splendid fame, who were so closely united by the
sympathies of personal esteem and similarity of literary
pursuits : and this unform exhibition of ttieir respec
tive Writings, may be regarded as an attempt to render
them inseparable as was the friendship of the Authors.
In transforming the Volumes to a smaller size,
•\vithout losing sight of propriety and system, much
care and attention were required. These, the Editors
hope and think, have been exerted in such measure,
as cannot fail to be satisfactory, A a Brief

IV ADVERTISEMENT.
Brief enumeration of the Contents : — •
The first Six Volumes are occupied by The
Divine Legation, divided, agreeably to the original
plan of the Author, into three parts, as follow :
The First Part, comprising Books I. II. III. with
their appropriate preliminary matter. Appendices and
Notes, occupy the first, seco;^d, and third Volumes.
The Second and Third .P^rts ofthe Divine Legation,.
comprising Books IV. V. 1^1. & IX. also with their
respective preliminary matter. Appendices and Notes,
followed by a General Index, and a List of
Authors quoted ; occupy the fourth, fifth, and sixth
Volumes. It had been objected to former Editions, that the
margins of the Divine Legation were too much
crowded with Notes, and with extracts under the
name of Postscripts or Appendices : We have there
fore follow,ed the mode adopted by Bishop Hurd, in
the quarto edition, of printing these at the end of each
Book, referring to them in the Text.
The Seventh Volume contains The Alliance
between Church and State; or, The Necessity
and Eqidti/ of an Established ReUgion, atid a Test-
Law, demonstrated. A work, in the opinion of the late
Bishop Horsley, exhibiting " one ofthe finest specimens
that are to be found in any language, of scientific
reasoning applied to a political subject." — Here also,
as in the Divine Legation, the Notes are placed after
tach Book; and at the end is given a copious Index.
3 The

advertisement. V
The Eighth Volume includes Julian, or, A Dis
course concerning the Earthquake and Fiery Eruption,
tohich defeated that Emperor's Attempt to rebuild the
Temple at Jerusalem ; and, The Doctrine of
Grace, o}\ The Office and Operations of the Holy
Spirit vindicated f^om the Itisults of Iifidelity and
the Abuses of Fanaticism.
The Ninth and Tenth Volumes comprise the
Sermons and Discourses of our Author : Together
¦with A Charge to the Clergy qf the Diocese qf
Gloucester, in 1761; ^4 Discourse on the Nature
and End qf the Sacrament qf the Lord's Supper',
and DiRECTiONs_yor the Study 0/ Theology.
The two last Volumes (the Eleventh & Twelfth)
contain Bishop Warburton's Controversial Tra cts;
concluding with A 'L'etter from an Author to a
Member of ParUament, concerning Literary Pro
perty ; and his Correspondence with Doctors
Middleton and Loxcth.

In the First Volume, is given a Portrait of the
Author, from an Original Picture : And in the Fourth
Volume, the 4th..and 6th Sections of Book IV. of the
Divine Legation, are illustrated by Engravings.

DISCOURSE, BY WAT OF
GENERAL PREFACE
TO THE
WORKS or
BISHOP WARBURTON] CONTAIKING
SOME ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE, WRITINGS,
AND CHARACTER, OJ
THE AUTHOR.

1 H fi
LI P K
or THE
AUTHOR FIRST PRINTED IN
1794.

WILLIAM AVARBURTON
WAS descended from an antient and very cort.
siderable family in Cheshire, at the head of
¦which is t^je present Sir Peter Warburton, baronet,
of Arley, in that county.
I leave the rest to the Genealogist; and go no
J^rther back in his pedigree than to his Grandfather,
of the same name, who distinguished himself in the
qivil WMs of the last century. He was of the Royal
party, and shewed his zeal and activity in that cau^e,
by serving under Sir George Booth at the affair of
Chester. I mention this little circumstance chiefly
for the use I shall make of it elsewhere. All that I
know raore of him, is, That he married Frances,
daughter of Robert Awfield, , of Etson in the county
pf Nottingham, by whom he had three sons; the
Vol. I. B second

2 LIFE OF r ,
second of whom, George, was Mr. WarBURTOn s
father. It seems probable,, that upon this mamage he.
removed into Nottinghamshire. His residence was at
Shelton', a village about six mi[fs from Newark, where
he died; \ ^
Mr. George Warburton, the Second son, as I ob
served, of WiMiam Warburton, Esq. of Shelton, was
bred to the law. He settled at Newark, where he
practised as an attorney, and was particularly esteemed
for his integrity in that profession.
He married Elizabeth, daughter of William Hob-
'man, Alderman of Newark, and had by this marriage
five children, George, William, Mary, Elizabeth, and
Frances. George died very young. , William (the subject
of this memoir) was born at Newark, Dec. 24, 1698.
He was first put to school there under Mr. Twells,
whose son afterwards married his sister, Elizabeth :
but he had the chief part of his education at OkehaiS),
in Rutlandshire, under Mr. Wright. Here he coh-
tinued till the beginning of the year 1714 ; when his
cousin, Mr. Warburton (who also bore the name of
William), being made head raaster of the school at
Newark, he returned to his native place, and was, for
a short time, under the care of that learned and i^-<
spectable person, of whora more will be said pre
sently. I only now add ; that he was father to thfe
revfeVend Mr. Thomas Warburton, tlie present ..v6ry
worthy Archdeacon of Norfolk, to whom I am indebted
for the particulars here raentioneid, concerning his
family. I cannot, I confess, entertain the reader of thk
narrative with those encomiums which are so cotti-
monly

THE AUTHOR. 3
.monly lavished on the puerile years of eminent men.
On the best enquiry I have been able to make, I do
not find, that, during his stay at school, he distin
guished himself by any extraordinary efforts of genius
or application. My information authorizes rae to go
no further than to say, That he loved his book, and
his play, just as other boys did. And, upon reflexion,
I ara not displeased with this modest testimony to his
merit. For I remeraber what the best judges have
thought of premature wits. And we all know that
the mou^m-oak, which is one day to make the
sti-ength of our fleets, is of slower growth than the^
saplings v/hich adorn our gardens.
But, although no prodigy of parts or industry in
those early years, with a moderate share of each, he
could not fail of acquiiing by the age of sixteen (the
time Mhen he left school) a competent knowledge of
Greek and Latin, under such masters, as those of
(Dkeham and Newark.
It had been his misfortune to lose his father very
early. He died in 1 706 ; and the care of his family
devolved, of course, upon his widow ; w|io, as we have
seen, gave her son the best school-education ; ahd, in
all respects, approved herself so good a woman, as
well as parent, that her -children paid her all possible
respect : her son, in particular, (all whose affections
were naturally warra), gave her every proof of duty
and observance, while she lived, and, after her death,
retained so tender a regard to her memory, that he
seldom spake of her but with tears^
The circumstances of the family eould be but mo
derate ; and when Mr. Warburton had now finished
his education at school, he was destined by his friends
to tliat prdfession, which is thought to qualify men
' B 2 best

4 LIFE OF
best for the management of their own affairs, and
whicli his father had followed with so much credit iii
that neighbourhood.
He was accordingly put out clerk to Mr. Kirlce, an
eminent attorney of Great Markham in Nottingham
shire, in April 1714, and continued with that gentleman
five years, i.e. till the spring of the year J 719.
Tradition does not acquaint us, how he acquitted
himself in his clerkship. Probably, with no signal
assiduity. For now it was that the bent of his genius
appeared in a passionate love of reading, which w^as
not lessened, we may believe, but increased, by his.
want of time and opportunity to indulge it.
However, in spite of his situation, he found means
to peruse again and digest such of the classic authors
as he had read at school, with many others which he
understeod to be in repute wilh men of learning and
judgement. By degrees, he also raade himself ac
quainted with the other elementary studies ; and, by
the time his clerkship was out, had laid the foundation,
as well as acquired a taste, of general knowledge.
Still, the opinion and expectation of his friends kept
hira in that profession to vvhich he had been 'bred. On
the expiration of his clerkship, he returned to "his
family at Newark ; but whether he practised there or
elsewhere as an attorney, I ara not certainly informed.
However, tbe love of letters growing every day stronger
in him, it was found advisable to give way to his incli
nation of taking Orders : the rather, as the seriousness
ef his temper and purity of his morals concurred, with
his unappeasable thirst of knowledge, to give the surest
presages of future eminence in that profession.
He did not venture, however, all at once to rush
into Uie Church. His good understanding, and awftil
»emt

THE AUTHOR. 5
sense of religion, suggested to him the propriety of
making the best preparation he could, before he offered
himself a candidate for the sacred character. For
tunately for hiui, his relation, the master of Newark
School, was at hand to give hira his advice. And he
could not have put himself under a better direction.
For, besides his classical merit (which was great), he ,
had that of being an excellent Divine, and was a truly
learned as well as good man.
To him then, as soon as his resolution was taken
of going into Orders, he applied for assistance, which
was afforded him very liberally. " My father (says Mr.
" Archdeacon Warburton in a letter to me) employed
" all the time he could spare firom his school in ia->
" structing him, and used to sit up very late at night
" with him to assist him in his studies." And this
account I have heard confirmed by his pupil himself;
who used to enlarge with pleasure on his obligations
to his old tutor ; and has celebrated his theological
and other learning ih a handsome Latin epitaph,
which he wrote upon him after his death.
At length he was ordained Deacon the 22d of
Deceraber 1 723, in the cathedral of York,, by Arch
bishop Dawes : and even then he was in no haste to
enter into Priest's Orders, which he deferred taking
till he was full twenty- eight years of age, being ordained
Triest by Bishop Gibson in St. Paufs, London,
March the 1st, 1726-7.
Some will here laraent that the precious interval of
nine years, froiij his quitting school in 1714 to his
taking Order§, was not spent in one of our universi
ties, rather than his private study, or an attorney's
pfEce. And it is certain, the disadvantage to most men
yiQu\d have been great. But an industry, and genius,
» 3 like

6 LIFE OF
like his, overcame all difficulties. It may even |?o
conceived, that he derived a benefit from them. A^
his faculties were of no common size, his own propep^
exertion of them probably tended more to his improve
ment, than any assistance of tutors and colleges could
have done. To which we may add, that living by himT
selfj and not having the fashionable opinions of a great
society to bias his own, he raight acquire an en^rgec^
turn of raind, and strike out for himself, as he clearly
did, an original cast both of thought and com
position ;
Fastidire lacus et rivos ausus apertos ;
•vyhile his superior sense, in the mean time, did the
office of that authority, which, in general, is found so
necessary to quicken the diligence, and direct th^
judgement, of young students in onr universities. ^
The fact is, that, without the benefit Of an Acade
mical education, he had qualified himself, in no common
degree, for Deacon's Orders in 1723 : and from that
tim,e till he took Priest's Orders in the beginning of the
year 1727, he applied himself diligently to complete
his studies, and to lay in that fund pf knowledge,
which is requisite to form the cpnsumniate Divine.
Fbr to this character he reasonably aspired ; having that
ardour of inclination; which is the earnest of success,
and feeling in himself thpse powers which inyigorate a
great mind, and push it on irresistibly in the pursuit of
letters. The firuits of his industry, during this interval, ap
peared in some pieces, composed by him for the im
provement of his taste and style, and afterwards
printed (most of them without his name) to try the
judgement of the publick. As he never thought fit to
^2 f eprini

THE AUTHOR. 7
reprint or revise them, they are omitted in this edition.
**"But they are such as did him no discc^dit ; on the con
trary, they shewed the vigour of his parts, and the
more than coramon hopes which'might be entertained,
of such a n'riter. a^
Among these blossoms of kis youth (to borrow an ex
pression from Cowley), were some notes, communicated
to Mr. Theobald, and inserted in his edition of Shake-
spear ; which seems to have raised a general idea of his
abilities, before any more important proof had been
given ofthem. But of this subject more will be said
in its place.
It was, also, in this seaspn of early discipline, while
his mind was opening to many literary projects, th§t
he conceived an idea, which he was long pleased with,
of giving a new edition of Velleius Paterculus. He
was charmed with the elegance of this writer ; and the
high credit in which emendatory criticism (of which
Paterculus stood much in need) was held in the be
ginning of this century, occasioned by the dazzling re
putation, of such men as Bentley and Hare, very natu-'
rally seduced a young enterprizing scholar into an
attempt of this nature. How far he proceeded in this
work, I cannot say : but a speciraen of it afterwa^rd^
appeared in one of our literary journals, and was then
co#nunicated to his friend. Dr. Middleton ; who ad
vised him very properly to drop the design, as not
worthy ofhis talents and industiy, which, as he says,
instead of trifling on words,, seem calculated rather to
correer'the opinions and manners ofthe world.
These juvenile essays of his pen, hasty apd incor
rect as they were, contributed, no doubt, very much
to his pwn improvement. What effect, th^y had on
his reputation, and how soon they raised it to a consi-
B 4 derable

8 LIFE OF
derable height among lys firiends, will be seen froml
the following curiqys fact.
In the year 1726, a dispute arose among the
lawyers, about the judicial power of the Coiirt of
Chancery, ^t is ir^aterial to observe on what points'
the:^ontroversy turned, jor with -what views it wa|
agitated. It opened with a tract, called, The History
of the Chancery ; relating to the Judicial Power of
that Court, and the Rights of the Master ; printed
without a name ; but written, as was generally known,
by a Mr. Burrough ; and so well received by the Lord
Chancellor'Eing, that he rewarded the Author of it,
the same yeSr, with a Mastership in 6hancery,
To this book an answer presently appeared, undep |
the name of, A Discourse of the Judicial Authority
of the Masitr qf the Rolls ; and so well composed,
that they whcf-'favoured the c£^se of the Historian^
saw it must suifer in his hands, if it were not supported
by some better writer than himself, who was evidently
IJO match for the Discourser.
»c In this exigeney, he was advised by one of-his
friends (I forget, or never heard, his name) to have-
recourse to Mr. Warburton, as a person ve^ capable
of 'Supplying his defects. According}', when he had
prepared the proper materis^ls for a reply, he ob
tain^, leave t;^put them into Mr. Warburton's halfes,
and afterwards gpent some time with him in the
country ; where, by their joint labours, tlie whole was
drawn out, and digested into a sizable volum^i^hich
carae out in 1727, and was entitled, Th^W^egal
Judicatu^ in Chancery stated. This book was so
manifes^ superior to the History, that such of the
profession as were not in the secret, wondered at
Mr. Burrough'* proficiency in the aft of >vriiingf' and th^

THE AUTHOR. 9
the Lord Chancellor King, as rauch as any body. The
author of the Discourse saw it concerned him to take
notice of such, an adversary, and in 1728 reprinted
his work " with large additions — together with a
'* Preface^ occasioned by a book entitled, 7'he Legal
'^ Judicature in Chancery stated." And with this reply,
J believe, the dispute closed.
Many years afterwards (the secret being now of no
consequence) Mr. Warburton chanced to mention, in
ponyersation, to Mr. Charles Yorke, the part he had
taken in this squabble: when Mr. Yorke smiled, and
said he fancied he was not aware who had been his
antagonist; and then named his father, the Lord
Chancellor Hardwicke, who, though Attorney General
at the tirae, had undertaken to plead the cause of
his relation, . Sir Joseph Jekyll, then Master of the
Rolls. — But I have dwelt, perhaps, top long on thjs
little anecdote.
Upon Mr. Warburton's taking Priest's Orders, Sir
Robert Sutton procured for him the small vicarage of
Griesley, in Nottingharashire ; and in 1728 presented
him to the Rectory of BrandTBroughtpn, in the diocese
of Lincoln. He wa.", also, the same year, and, I sup
pose, by the same interest, put upon the King's list
pf Master of Arts, created on his IVfajesty's visit to the
university pf Cambridge. *
BranB-Broughton was a preferment of some value,
and, from its situation in the neighbourhood of Newark,
pleased him very much. Here then he fixed Jiimselfj ,
vnth. his family, and spent the best part of his life,
¦ that is, from 1728 to 1746.
¦ They who are unacquainted with the enthusiasm
which true genius inspires, will hardly conceive the
possibil% of that intense application, with which Mr.
Wsn^burtoij

10 LIFE OF
Warburton pursued his studies in that retirement.
Impatient of any interruptions, he spent tbe whole of
bis time that could be spared frora the duties of his
parish, in reading and writing. His constitution was
strong, and his temperance extreme. So that he
needed no exercise but that of walking ; and a change
of reading, or study, was his only amusement.
His mother and sisters, who lived with hira, and
were apprehensive of the hurt he raight do himself
by this continued industry, would invite themselves
to drink coffee with him in his study after dinner, and
contrive to lengthen their stay with him as rauch, as
tjiey could. But when they had retired, they saw no
iiiore of him that evening; and his sister, Mrs.
FiiANCEs Warburton, told me, that he usually
}5ate up a. great part of the night. What is most
(pxtraordinary, the vigour of his parts was such, that
his incessant labour neither wearied his spirits, nor
affected his health.
In this way it was, that he acquired that habit of
deep thinking, with that extensive erudition, which,
afterwards astonished the reader in his works ; and
made himself acquainted with the whole range of
polite and elegant learning, in the way of diversion^
and in the interva^l of his graver studies.
I express myself witli exact propriety. For it was
|iis manner at this time (and the habit continued with
him tiirough life) to intermix his literary pursuits iq
such sort as to make the lighter relieve the more-
serious ; and these again, in their turn, temper and
porrect the other. He was passionately fond of th§
more sublime poets, and (what is very uncommon)
had alraost an equal relish for works of wit and
lii^ipoiir. One or Qther qf these ]?poj|S;hq_had always lynig

THE AUTHOR. n
lying by him, and would take up \vhen he fouqd hira
self fatigued with study ; and, after spending sorae
time in this sort of reading, was so rauch refreshed by
it, that he returned with new life to the work he was
upon ; and so n;iade these amusements, which are apt
to get the raastery of common minds and to exhaust
their whole force, only subservient to his more im
portant meditations.
And this humour (to observe it by the way) of
3,ssociating the so different powers of reason and
i^ncy in the course of his studies, passed into his
style, and indeed formed one distinctive character
of it. For in all his v. ritings, on whatever subject,
you see hira, occasionally, ennoble his expression by
picturesque imagery, or enliven it by strokes of wit ;
And tliis (tiiough the practice be against rule) with.
go much ease, and with so little affectation, that none
but a very captious, or yery dull, reader can take
offence at it.
With that passion for letters, which, as I obseryed^
transported Mr. Warburton at this time, the sobriety
of his judgement is to be admired. The little taste
he had had of fame in the early publications, biefore.
alluded to, did not corrupt his raind, or seduce hini
into a premature ambition of appearing as an author
in form, till he had fully qualified himself, by the long
course of reading and meditation, now mentioned, to.
sustain that character. It was not till the year 1 736
that he published the first of those works, on which
his great reputation is -raised. This was. The
Alliance betwixt CfnuRCii and State*: the
pccasion, and end, aiid substance of which work cannot
!>£ expressed in fewer or clearer terms, than his own.
f Vol. VII. of this Edition. After

12 LIFE OF
After a short historical view of religious parties
in England, from the lieformation downwards; ofthe
discordant notions entertained of Religious establish
ments ; and of the heats and animosities which those
notions had produced : he proceeds thus - - -
?' In this ferment, and iji this embroiled condition,
*' the Author of the Alliance betiveen Church and
" State found the sentiments of men concerning re-
" ligjous Liberty and Establishments, when he pro-
" posed his Theory to their Consideration ; a Theory,
*' calculated to vindicate oijr present happy Constitu-
" tion ON A PRINCIPLE OF RIGHT, by adjusting
" the precise bpunds of either Society ; by shewing
" how they come to act in conjunction ; and by ex-
" plaining the nature of their union: and from thence,
^' by natural and necessary consequence, inducing,
" on the one hand, an Established Rei.igion
" with all its rights and privileges, secured by a Test
" Law ; and on the other, a full and free Tolerat
" tion, to all who dissented frotn the national
*'' worship. " He first shewed the use of Religion to Society,
'' from the experience and practice of all ages : He
" inquired from Mhence the use arose, and found it
" to be from certain original defects in the very
" essence and plan of Civil Society. He went on to
j^' the nature of Religion; and shewed how, and for
^^ what causes, it constituted a Society; Aqd then,
" from the natures of the two Societies, he collected^
" that the object of the Civil, is only the BodTy and
Its interests; and the object of the Religious, only
^^ the Soul. Hence he concluded, that both Societies
are Sovereign, and Independent; because they arise
not out of bne another; and because, as they ar^
" ?Qnccrn§(i

THE AUTHOR. 13
" concerned in contrary provinces, they can never
" meet lo clash; the sameness of original, or the
" sameness of administration, being the only causes
" which can bring one, of two distinct Societies, into
" natural subjection to the other.
" To apply Religion therefore to the service of
" Civil Society, in the best manner it is capable of
" being applied, he shewed it was necessary that
" the two Societies should Unite : For, each being
" sovereign and independent, there was no other way
" of applying the service of Religion in any solid or
" effectual manner. But no such union could arise
" but from free compact and convention. And free
" convention is never likely to happen, unless each
" Society has its mutual motives, and mutual advan-
" tages. The Author, therefore, from what he had
** laid down of the natures ^f the two Societies, ex-
*' plained what tiiese motives and advantages were.
" Whence, it appeared that all the rights, privileges,
" and prerogatives of the two Societies, thus united,
" with the Civil Magistrate at their head, were in-
" deed those very rights, privileges, and prerogatives,
" which wa find established and enjoyed under our
" present happy Constitution in Church and State :
" The result of this was, that an Established
" Church and a free Toleration are made per-.
" fectly to agree by the raedium of a Test Law,
" This Law, therefore, the Author in the la§t plac^
*' proceeded to vindicate, on the same general prin-
*' ciples of the law of Nature and Nations.
" " This is a true, though short analysis of thf
" Alliance between Church a?id State*."
? ,See Vol. XII. " View of Lord Bolingbroke's Phi-'
Jpsopby," Letter IV. This

14 LIFk Oi*
This work made a great impression oh the besj:
judges. One* of them, to whom he had sent a
presciit of his book, expresses himself thus : ^^ ^
« I had formerly been very agreeably entertained
" with some emendations of your's on Shakespieare,
" and was extremely pleased to find this work was
" by the same hand. Good ^learning, great acute-
" ness, an ingenious working head, and depth of
" thought, will always please in an author, though we
" are not entirely in the same ways of thinking."—
And, in^the close of it, he adds — " You have not. Sir,
" only my thanks for what yOu have done, but my
" sincere wishes, that what was intended for the
" service of the publick may prove also to be for
" your own, to which my endeavours, in any proper"
" way, shall not be wanting."
This was candid and generous, considering that the
eminent person v/as not altogether in the author's sen
timents on the subject of his book. But he was struck
with his great abilities, and became from this moment
his sincere friend.
The truth is, no sort of men, either within or with
out the Church, was prepared^ at that time, for an in
different reception of this new theory, which respected
none of their prejudices. It was neither calculated
to please the High- Church Divines, nor the Low;
and the Layity had taken their side with the one' or
the other of those parties.
However, though few at that time were convinced,
all were struck by this essay of an original writer, and
could not dissemble their admiration of the ability
which appeared in the construction of it. There
was indeed a reach of thought in tliis system of
* Bishop Hare. Church-

THE AUTHOR. 15
Church-policy, which would prevent its making its
way all at once. It required time and attention, even
in the most capable of its readers, to apprehend the
force of the argumentation ; and a more than common
share of candour to adopt the conclusion, when they
did. The author had therefore reason to be satisfied
with the reception of his theory, such as it was : and
having thoroughly persuaded himself of its truth, as
well as importance, he continued to enlarge and im
prove it in several subsequent editions ; and in the last^
by the opportunltyj which some elaborate attempts of
his adversaries to overturn it, had afforded him, he
exerted his whole strength upon it, and has left it
in a condition to brave the utmost efforts of future
criticism*. Sorae indeed, have taken offence at the idea of an
AUiance ; but without cause : for the meaning is this.
That our Church-Establishment is such as In equity
it must have been, had the terms of it been Settled by
mutual agreement between the two parties. Which,
in other ¦words, is only saying, That those terms are
just and reasonable.
The idea of an Alliance was conceived, in pre
ference to any other mode of conducting the argument^
because the theory of civil government had beeo
* An emineat writer has delivered his opinion of it in
these teims : " BishopWAEB uktoh , in his Alliance bettieea
" Church and State, hath shewn the general good policy of
" an establishment, and the necessity of a Test for its se-
" curity, upon principles which RepublicaHs themselve«
" cannot easily deny. — His work is one of the finest speci-
" mens, that are to be found perhaps in any language, of
" scientific reasoning applied to a political subject." Dn
HoRSLE y's Review ofthe Case of the Projestapt Dissenters.
'Pv.'EF. London, -ijSj. £brme4

i6 LIFE Of
formed on the like notion of a contract between
Prince and People. This way of reasoning, there
fore without being less conclusive, had the advan
tage of being more popular than any other, and as
such, was very properly adopted by our author.
-Notwithstanding this management^ the Alliance, as
I observed, was not generally understood. But he did
not wait for the reward of publick favour, to encourage
him In the resolution he had taken of dedicating his
great talents to the service of religion. In the close
of this first edition of The Alliance, he annouliced
his next and greatest work, The Divine Legation
OF MosES ; which he had nowiplanned, and in part
composed. For, when such a w ritter as this, has by, a
long course of study laid^ in the proper materials for
invention to operate upon, and h.as,, by one vigorous
essay, assured himself of his own strength, his pro- '
gress to perfection is rapid, and almost instantaneous ;
like the pace of Homeir's gods, wiiose first step reacli
to Olympus, and the second, to the ends of the eartE
It had been pretended by those who called then>
selves Deists, and, in the modesty of free-thinking
which then prevailed, had, or affected to have,, a re
spect for the natiffal doctrine of a future state. That
the oraission of this doctrine in the Mosaic Law was
a clear decisive proof of its iraposture, as no insti
tute of religion, coming from God, could be without
that principle.
The author of the Alliance saw the omission in an^^
other light; and was so far from admitting the Deist's
conclusion, that he thought himself able tp prove, in the
clearest manner, and with the evidence /of -what, is
called Moral demonstration, the divinity of the Mosaic
Law from that very circumstance. Such

THE AUTHOR. 17
Such then was tlie subject and scope of Mr. War
burton's capital work. The Divine Legation cf Moses
demonstrated on the principles of a religious Deist.
But in the conduct of this new and paradoxical argu
ment, so many prejudices and objections, both of be
lievers and unbelievers, were to be reraoved ; and so
many collateral lights to be let In upon it ; that the
discourse extended itself far and wide, and took in all
that was most curious in Q|ntile, Jewish, and Christian
antiquity. In the beginning of the year 1738, thp first volume
of this work appeared, and immediately drew all eyes'
upon it. Some were too weak, and some, too rauch
dimmed or distorted by prejudices, to take a full and
distinct view of its contents. No wonder then If
such readers misconceived of the writer's purpose, and
misrepresented it. Yet few were so blind, as not to
admire the execution. " I hear nobody speak of your
" book," says the Bishop of Chichester, " who do
" not express theraselves highly entertained with it ;
" though they think thcprincipal point which remains
" to be proved, a paradox *." And what the Bishop
himself thought of It, before publication, when the
sheets were sent to him from the press, he tells the
author in these words — ¦'* I can say, without any cora-
" pliment, that your papers have given me high de-
" light. So many beautiful thoughts, such ingenious
" illustrations of them, such a clear connection, suck
" a deduction of notions, and so much good learning
" upon so useful a subject, all expressed In proper
" and fine language, cannot but give an intelligent
" reader the greatest satisfactionf ."
* MS. Letters, Feb. 21, 1737-8. t Oct. 18, 1737.
Vol. L C And

18 LIFE OF
And to much the same purpose another learnecl
friend, the Bishop of Salisbury *— " Last night I re-
" ceived some sheets of your book, and ran them over
" with great pleasure, though not with the attention
" which the subject and your way of treating it
" demand f." And In another letter, when he had
taken time to- consider the contents of this volume—
" The learning and ability of the author ofthe D. L.
" are not called In question ; and the first part
" has raised a great desire and expectation" of the
" second J." •<»#
I quote these passages so particularly, because the
Bishops, Hare and Sherlock, were, without doubt,
among the ablest of his judges, and because their tem
per was far enough from inclining towards an Ofificious
and lavish civility to their friends.
After authorities of so much weight, I should not
think it worth while to take notice of what was objected
to him by ordinary writers, but that he thought fit to
answer one § of thera, in a style So soft and elegant,
that they who have a taste for the gentler polemics will
read it with great pleasure.
The real ground of the abuse cast upon him, though-
other causes were pretended, was the handsorae manner
in which he had spoken of Dr. Middleton, in his pre
face to the first volume. This ingenious raan (of
whom more will be said, as we go along) had written
some things, which gave occasion to suspect him of a
leaning towards infidelity. Mr. Warburton was per-
sonally acquainted with him, and had a real esteem
for him. He wished therefore, if possible, to dra^
* V'- ^'^^^l°^k. t MS. Letters, Oct. 18, 1737.
X March 2, 1737-8. § Dr. Webster. See Vol. XI. his

THE AUTHOR. ig
his friend off frora that bias, which his passions, rather
than his judgement, he conceived, had impressed
upon hira, by putting the fairest constructions on his
writings, and by affecting to understand them in the
most favourable sense. But, instead of clearing his
friend, by this means, frora the guilt of heterodoxy, the
effect was to involve himself in the suspicion of it :
And it was thought proper that he should disclaim and
repel so groundless ap imputation. This it was not
difficult for him to do, so far as respected his own
character ; but that of his friend required managing,
and he would not justify himself at his expence.
In these delicate circumstances, he acquitted hira
self with dexterity, yet with perfect good faith, and to
the singular satisfaction of his friends. " I received
" yesterday," says Bishop Hare, " your Vindication,
" which I read twice over with great satisfaction —
" The part that relates to Dr. Middleton, we think
" extremely well done. It was the only difficult part,
" and it cannot but please every candid reader to see
*' you do justice to yourself, and yet not do it at his
" expence, nor say a word, that either he or his friends
" can be, offended at, or that Is in the least giving up
" a man, with whom you live in friendship. Here
" is courage and integrity very agreeably joined^'."
The Bishop here gives a very just account of the
Vindication, and Indeed of Mr. Warburton's general
conduct towards Dr. Middleton ; as appears from the
whole of his intercourse with him, which began in
1 736, and was carried on, by a frequent exchange of
friendly and affectionate letters, from that time to 1 741,
when it seems to have ceased, or to have been inter-
*= March 23, 1737-8.
c 2 rupted

20 LI Ft OF
rupted at least, for reasons which will be mentioned
hereafter. In the whole course of these letters, which I have.
in my hands, every sort of polite Insinuation is em
ployed to soften and remove his prejudices against
revealed religion; by joining with him, sometimes,
in his graver complaints of bigoted divines, and,
sometimes, in his ridicule of their pretended orthodoxy;
but In taking for granted, every where, his respect for
revelation, and his real belief of it, and in seeming to
think that. If other opinions were entertained of him,
they had proceeded from an ignorance of his true
character. /
But the friendliness of his views will best appear
from his own words.
He had taken occasion to acquaint Dr. Middleton
with the manner in which he meant to address the
Free-thinkers, in his dedication to them, prefixed to the
first volume of the D. L. and with his purpose of
making respectful raention of him in it. To this
information Dr. Middleton replies, Sept. 22, 1737,
" I am pleased with the manner of your address tp
" the Free-thinkers, and obliged to you for your
" friendly intentions with regard to myself; and
" though I should be as proud to have the testimony
" of your judgement and good opinion, as of any
" man, yet I would have you consider, how far such a
"• declaration of it may expose you to a share of that
" envy, which has lain, and still lies very heavy upon

me.

This was handsome on his part, but was not likely
to divert his friend from the measures he had taken.
Accordingly in a letter, dated Dec. 23, 1 737, after
teUing him that his book was coming out, and that he
•5 had

THE AUTHOR. 21
had ordered a copy of it to be sent hira, he proceeds
thus, -with a manifest allusion, in the concluding sen
tence, to Dr. Middleton's letter — " I have your pardon
" to ask for the liberty I have taken of designing you,
" by your character, in one place of the body of the
" book, as ¦well as In the dedication to the Free-
" thinkers. For I would fain contribute to abate
" an unjust prejudice, that might lie in the way of
" those honours which wait for you, and are so rauch
" your due. And I shall reckoti it for nothing, in so
" honest an attanpt, to run the risk of sharing that
" p7^gudice tenth you."
And again, writing to him March l8, 1737-8, on
the subject of his answer to the author of the Weekly
Miscellany, he says, "I am to thank hira for the
" agreeable necessity of vindicating you (by a quotation
" in one of the defences that pass for yours) from his
" false accusation of denying the inspiration of scrip-
*' ture ; and from his imagirmtioti (Avhlch is the ground
" of this clamour) that you defend Revelation, not as
" true, but only useful ; and that, as to other points,
" you and I can differ without breach of common hu-
" manity, friendship, and Christian charity."
I have put these things together, because I would
not interrupt the recital of what concerns the first ap
pearance of those two capital works. The Alliance,
and Divine Legation (so closely connected with each
Other that the former, in the original design, was but a
chapter- of the latter) ; the reception they raet with
frora the publick ; and the occasion they gave him of
justifying an obnoxious friend, as well as explaining his
own sentiments.
I must now go back a little, to mention a circum
stance in his life, which does the parties poncern^d too
c 3 much

22 LIFE OF
much honour to be omitted by me, and which happerf-
ed In the latter end of the year 1737. The Alliance
had now made the author much talked of at Court j
and the Bishop of Chichester, on whom that work had
im;n-essed, as we have seen, the highest ideas of his
merit, was willing to take that favourable opportunity
of introducing him to the Queen. Her Majesty, it is
well known, took a pleasure in the discourse of men of
learning and genius ; and chancing one day to ask the
Bishop, if he could recomraend a ptrion of that
description to be about her, and to entertain her, some
times, with his conversation, the Bishop said, he could,
and mentioned the author of the Alliance between
Church and State. The recommendation was gra^
ciously received, and the matter put In so good a train,
that the Bishop expected every day the conclusion of it,
when the Queen was seized with a sudden illness, which
put an end to her life the 20th of November, 1737^
I find this transaction alluded to In a letter from the
Bishop, dated Nov. 1 1 , that is, nine days before that
unhappy event. His Lordship thanks Mr. Warburton
for some sheets of the first volume of the Legation,
vvhich were just then sent hiin from the press, and, after
making some remarks upon them, takes notice of a
stroke of pleasantry, which, It seems, had escaped him,
on Mr. Wollaston 's famous book on The Religion of
Nature, and which he advises him to strike out, as it
would give great offence to the admirers of tliat booh
Ihave besides, continues his Lordship, A particular
UT^Asoiifor advising you to alter that passage, which
you shall know at a proper time.
And, afterwards. In the same letter — I would advise,.
not only the cancelling that leaf, but the doing it
jMMEDiATELY, that it may not get into many hands. When

T H E A U T H O R. 23
JFhen I see you, I am persuaded, you ivill allow this is
right advice from a friend.
The secret was, that he was tlien endeavouring to
serve his friend with the Queen, and was apprehensive
tliat the freedom he had taken with that work, which
she rauch admired, might hurt him in her Majesty's
opinion, and defeat his design.
This disappointment, when he came to know it, did
not abate his ardour in prosecuting his studies at
Brand- Broughton. After publishing the Vindication^
before mentioned, early in the year 1 738, he applied
himself with great industiy tp compose the second
volume of his work, notwithstanding the clamours,
which had been raised, and now grew louder, against
the first. " I go steadily on," says he in a letter to
Dr. Middleton, Nov. 12, 1738, " amidst much ill
" treatment. Ifyou ask, what it is that supports ine,
'' I will tell you, my excellent friend : It is the love
" of truth, and a clear conviction of the reality of the
¦" Jewish and Christian Revelations."
Aniraated with these principles, he went on with his
great design, and seems to have spent the two or three
succeeding years upon it. Only, in 1739, he drew up
and published a short defence pf Mr. Pope's Essay on
Man, against M, de Crousaz, who had written a book
to shew that it was constructed on thp principles of
S^inosa, apd contained a dangerous system of irre
ligion. But though this was a slight* thipg, and took
up little of his time, yet as it respected so eminent a
person, and had great consequences with regard tp
himself, it vdll be proper to enlarge upon it.
It has been objected tq Mr. Warburton, that, in his
earlier days, he had hiraself entertained a prejudice
against Mr. Pope, and had even expressed it in very
c 4 strong

24 LIFE OF
strong terms. The offence taken had plCobably been
occasioned by a severe reflexion, in one of his satires, ^
on Mr. Warburton's friend and patron. Sir Robert
Sutton. And, in that. case, it is likely that he might
express himself of the poet, with too much warmth.,,
For I will not conceal or disguise the infirmity of my
friend. When his moral -feelings were touched, he was
apt to be transported into some intemperance of ex
pression, and was not always guarded, or even just, in
his censures or commendations. But a raind, naturally
great, does not long retain this fervour, and, when
cooled by reflection, is in haste to make amends for Its
former excesses. It is impossible, indeed, that, under^
any provocation, he should be blind to so much merit,
as our great poet possessed ; and what he saw of this
sort in any man, he was not backward to declare to
others. In his Vindication of himself, last year, he
had shewn how much he adraired Mr. Pope, by
quoting a fine passage from hira, and applying it to him^'
self in a way', that shewed an esteem of his morals, as
¦well as poetry. Since that tirae, he had suffered so
miich abuse himself from angry zealots, and felt so
strongly, in his own case, what It was for a wellrjpieaning
man to have his religious sentiments misrepresented,
that this attack of M. de Crousaz would naturaUy find
him in a disposition to resent it.
Add'to all this, that he saw with concern the ill lise
which some were ready to make of the supposed fatalr
ism of Mr. Pope, and how hurtful it was to religion to
have it imagined, that so great a genius was ill-IncUne4
towards it.
These reasons, working together, seem to have de
termined him to take the part of the Injured poet; as
indeed he explains the matter himself in a letter of

THE AUTHOR. 35
July 16, 1739, to Dr. Middleton :— " A Csrtain great
"" raan Is very angry witli me for speaking of you in the
" manner I did. I make no question but anot'.ier sort
" of those they call great men will hold themselves
*' outraged by me in my vindication of Mr. Pope
*' against M. de Crousaz in some letters which are
" going to be collected together and published. But
" I cannot forbear shewing my esteem of merit, and
" my contempt of their calumniators, or thinking that
" it is of use to Religion to prove so noble a genius is a
" fiiend to it."
These letters* were much read, and gave a new lustre
to Mr. Warburton's reputation. They shewed the
elegance of his taste in polite literature, as well as his
penetration into raoral subjects. Mr. Pope was su
premely struck with them -f", and might now exult, as his
predecessor Boileau had done, when he cried out, in
the face of his enemies —
" Arnauld, le grand Arnauld, fait mon apologie."
From this time there was an intimate acquaintance
formed between the poet and his commentator. The
effects of this union will be taken notice of presently.
I now only add, that it was strongly cemented by a
mutual profession of esteera, and a constant interchange.
of letters.
Among these I find one which Mr. Warburton ad-
dressed to his friend, in vindication of Sir Robert
Sutton ; written, as appears, with the view of prevail
ing with him to strike that gentleman's name out of his
satires. As it sets the author in an amiable light, and
seems to confirm my conjecture, that his former dissatis-
* See Vol. XI.
f See his Letter in his Works, April n, 1739.
' faction

«6 LIFE OF
faction with Mr. Pope had arisen from tl^s circum
stance, I shall give it in the Appendix [A].
Towards the end of this year [1739] he published a
new and improved edition of the first volurae of the
D. L. and sent it to his friend Bishop Hare ; who, in
a kind letter of Dec. 1, 1 739, returns his thanks for it,
and adds — " I hope not only posterity, but the present
" age, will do justice to so much merit, and do assure
" you, it shall not be my fault If it do not." Which I
mentioai to shew that the envy which was then rising
very fast against the autlior of the D. L. and which was
supposed to have the countenance of some conside
rable Churchmen, had made no alteration In the senr
timents of that great prelate, or lessened his esteem of
him. Indeed on all occasions he expressed his regard
for Mr. Warburton in the friendliest manner, of which
the following Instance must not be omitted.
Sir Thomas Hanmer, who was a raan of business,
and had been Speaker of the House of Commons In
Queen Anne's time, grew ambitious, in the latter part
of his life, to be taken notice of as a critick on Shake
speare. He had seen some notes on his favourite poet
by Mr. Warburton In Mr. Theobald's edition : and as
he was now preparing pne of his own, wiiich he after-
¦wards printed at the Clarendon press, he very justly
conceived that the assistance of Mr. Theobald's co
adjutor might be of service to him in the execution of
that project.
With this view he got hiraself introduced to Mr.
Warburton by the Bishop of Salisbury, Dr. Sherlock*
aqd managed so well as to draw frora his new acquaint
ance a large collection of notes and emendations, whicli
were, in confidence, communicated to hira in a series of
private letters. What

T H E A U T H O R. 27
What followed upon this, and what use he made of
those friendly communications, I need not repeat, as
the account is given by IVIr. "Warburton himself in the
lively preface to his and Mr. Pope's edition of Shake
speare, of which somethin;:; more will be said in its
place. It is enough to say here, that he very reasonably
resented this usage, and complained of it to his two
fiiends, the Bishops of Salisbury and Chichester. The
former expresses his concern at this ill-treatment, and
the more so, he says, as he had in some measure been the
occasion of it ; i.e. by bringing Mr. Warburton and
Sir Thomas Hanmer together.
The latter tells him. In a letter of May 9, 1 739 —
'' Sir Thomas Hanraer's proceeding with respect to
" Shakespeare is very extraordinary. — I think you do
'' very well to get your own papers out of his hands :
" 'tis pity they have been so long In them, since 'tis
" probable he has squeezed what he could out ofthem;
" ¦which is most ungenerous treatraent." He concludes
with saying — " I hope you will find leisure to give the
" world a Shakespeare, yourself, which the sooner 'tis
" made knoAvn the better."
And thus ended this trifling affair, which I should
scarcely have mentioned but. to do justice to the
friendly temper of Bishop Hare, who interested him
self so kindly in all his concerns ; and to, shew that
Mr. Warburton's conduct was not directed by caprice
or petulance, but was that of a raan of sense and
honour, and as such was approved by his most judicious
friends. Mr. Warburton was so taken up with his studies^
and found so much delight In them, that he rarely stir
red from home ; which he would often say there was
po good reason for doing, except necessary business, and

2S LIFE OF
and the satisfaction of seeing a friend. What the
worid calls amusement from a change of the scene,
passed for nothing with him, who was too weU employ
ed to be tired of his situation, or to have a thought of
running away from himself ; which, after all, they, who
are incessantly making the experiment, find impossible
to be done. Yet he sometimes found himself obliged
to go to London ; as he did in the spring of the year
1 740 ; and he took that opportunity of making his
first visit to Mi . Pope, of which he immediately * gave
Dr. Middleton the following account :
'' I passed about a week at Twickenham in the most
" agreeable manner. Mr. Pope is as good a com-
" panion, as a poet ; and what is more, appears to be
*' as good a man."
The last was indeed the consideration, that so much
indeared Mr. Pope to him. He found him an honest
and well-principled man ; zealous to promote the in-
tei'ests of virtue, and impressed Avith an awful sense of
reUgion, natural and revealed. In short, he found an
image of himself in his new acquaintance : no wonder
tlien,. their esteem and affection grew so fast as to give
umbrage, in no long time, to a certain Nobleman, who
bad taken to liimself the honour of being the guide ami
philosopher of IMr. Pope.
The acquisition of this new friend came very season
ably ta support Mr. AVarburton under the loss of ano
ther, the exceUent Bishop Hare, who died, after a short
illness, the 6th of April this year.
How be felt t-hat loss, the publick has been informed
by liimself in the preface to the second volurae of the
Ti. L. and with a flow of sentiment and expression,
which only the truest friendship, operatmg on a mind
* May 6, 1 740. like

THE AUTHOR. 29
like his, could inspire. But we are better pleased to
hear him express his sense of It in a private letter to
a friend. Speaking of the Bishop s death to Dr. Mid
dleton, in the letter above mentioned of May 6, 1 740,
he says — " He has not left his fellow behind him for
" the love and encouragement of learning. I have
" had a great loss in his death. He honoured me with
" his esteera and friendship. This I esteeraed a great
" obligation. I never sought to increase it by any
*' other dependance upon hira; and by the terms on
" which we kept up a correspondence, he did me the
" justice to believe, I expected no other."
This freedom of correspondence does honour to both
parties; and was observed, with address, in this letter
to Dr. INIiddleton, who had conceived Bishop Hare to,
have taken a prejudice against himself, for his liberty
in professing some sentiraents, not conformable to his
Lordships, He therefore insinuates there was no
ground for such a suspicion, for that he himself, so
much and so long in the Bishop's favour, had lived with
him on the same free terms. He knew very well, that
nothing could recommend his patron or himself to his
friend's good opinion raore, than such liberality on the
one part, and so manly a conduct on the other.
'But the truth is, though Mr. Warburton very pro
perly sought not to increase his obligation to Bishop
Hare, he would certainly have received the highest, had
it been in the Bishop's power ; which very probably
ended -with the Queen's death.
In May, 1741, was pubUshed the second volume
of the D. L. which corapleted the argument, although
not the entire plan of that work". A work ! In all views,
of the raost transcendant merit, whether we consider
the invention, or the execution. A plain

30 LIFE OF
- A plain simple argument, yet perfectly new, proving
the divinity of the Mosaic Law, and laying a sure
foundation for the support of Christianity, is there
drawn out to a great length by a chain of reasoning,
so elegantly connected, that the reader is carried along
it with ease and pleasure ; while the raatter presented
to him is so striking for its own Importance, so embel
lished by a Uvely fancy, and Illustrated, from all
quarters, by exquisite learning and the most ingenious
disquisition, that, in the whole corapass of modem or
antient theology, there is nothing equal or simUar to
tliis extraordinary performance.
Such is the general Idea of the Divine Legation of
Moses. But for a raore distinct conception of its frame;
to see at once — " the bearings and the ties,
" The strong connections, just dependencies ; "
the reader is referred to the recapitulation at the end
of the Vlth Book *, where the author himself has
drawn up a brief comprehensive view of his whole
scherae, with great spirit.
This year, but something earlier, came out Dr. Mid
dleton's famous Histoiy of the Life of Cicero ; which
was received by the publick, as It deserved to be, with
great applause. Mr. Warburton took the first occasion
to compliment his friend upon it ; and, as in the con
cluding part of that work Dr. Middleton had contro
verted the account given of Cicero's philosophical
opinions in the first volume of the D.L. he takes notice,
that he had a more particular pleasure in the last
stction, as he was more particularly interested m it ;
and then proceeds to moralize In the followlno' manner:
* See Vol. VI.
<' We

THE AUTHOR. 31
" We perhaps shafl neither of us be esteemed ortho-
" 'dox writers. But this we shall do, we shall give an
*' example to the world, which orthodox writers rarely
*' do, and perhaps of more use to mankind, than most
*' of the refined subjects they engage in, that we can
" differ in raany important points, and publicly avow
" our difference, without the least interruption of the
" declared friendship and esteem, we bear to each
^' other. And the Life of Tully, and the D. L., will be
" a rule, which few have set us and perhaps few w ill
" follow, how men, who esteem and love each other,
" should comport theraselves when they differ in opi-
" nion. So that whichever is right or wrong in opinion,
" the honest part of the world will judge both of us
" to be right in sentiment *."
To whom Dr. Middleton replies, with great compkr
cency, in the sarae strain — " As to the circumstance,
" from which you draw so just and useful a lesson, of
*' our differing from each other in some particular
" opinions, as I was always persuaded that it could
" not have any other effect upon you, so I have the
" comfort to assure you, that I never felt the least im-
" pression from it disadvantageous to _ our friendship.
" It Is the necessary consequence of that privilege of
" our nature on which all men of sense set the highest
" value, the liberty of judging for ourselves ; yet since
" it would be a great satisfaction to me in all cases to
" find my judgement confirmed by yours, so, when
" you are at fiill leisure, I should be glad to know the
" particular reasons which force you to differ from rae
** on the subject of Cicero's opinions ; to which alone
** our difference in the present case is to be referred,
* April 29, 1741 " thaU

32 L I F E 0 F
" that as far as is possible we may come still nearer to
" each other *."
Thus these two Ingenious men ; and the same spirit
breathes through the rest of their letters : so that their
whole temper seems to have resolved itself into a prin
ciple of general candour. Yet, within a month or two,
a fresh difference of opinion taking place (though on a
subject of no more importance than the other about
Cicero, respecting only the origin of popish cere
monies) and neither side giving way, our tw;o candid
friends cooled insensibly towards each other, and seem,
thenceforward, to have discontinued their correspond
ence ; for I find no letters, that passed between them,
of a later date than those of this year, which touch
upon tiiat difference. A memorable instance of our
common weakness ! which shews how little stress is to
be laid on those professions of candour, with which
our letters and conversations overflow ; and how Im
possible it Is for any lasting friendship to subsisH
between men of opposite principles and persuasions,
however their feelings may for a time be dissembled,
or disguised even to themselves, by a shew of gqod
breeding. For a contrary reason, the conformity of their sen
timents, the friendship between Mr. Warburton aud
Mr. Pope became every day closer and more confi
dential. In the beginning of this summer, when the
business that had called him to London, on the pubU
cation of his book, was over, he went down again to
Twickenham, and passed some w eeks with Mr. Pope
there, and in a country-ramble, which led them at last
to Oxford. The university was naturally pleased at the
* Cambridge, April 5, 1741. I suppose a misdate for
May 5tli, or ^U'. Warbiu'ton's letter is'misdated. arrival

THE AUTHOR. S3
arrivaVof two such strajigers, and seemed desirous of
, inroUing their names ainong their graduates.. The
degree of Doctor of Divinity was intended for the
Divine, and that of Doctor of Law for the Poet, as a
testimony of thdr great respect for each. But intrigue
and envy defeated this scheme ; and the university lost
the opportunity of decorating with its honours the two
greatest geniuses of tlie age, by the fault of one or
two of itr^ members *. Mr. Pope retired with some
chagrin to Twickenham, but consoled himself and
bis friend with this sarcastic reflexion — " We shall
" take our degree together in Fame, whatever we do at
" the university f-"
The time they spent together this sumraer gave oc-
feasion to some interesting conversations. Mr. War
burton suggested many alterations and improvements
of Mr. Pope's moral writings, and particularly advised
bim to strike out every thing in them that might be
¦suspected of having tke least glance towai'ds fate or
naturalism ; which he consented to, we are told, with
tartreme pleasure j^. It was also at this time, that he
Concerted with him the plan of the IVth Book of the
Dunciad §.
Mr. Pope lost no time in carrying It Into execution.
In Nove.nber following he presses his friend to meet
him at Prior-Park, on the invitation of Mr. Allen, with
vi'hom he then was, and tells him It was there that he
should find most leisure to profit by the advice he had
given him " to resume the studies, which he had almost
laid aside by perpetual avocations and dissipations."
* Pope's Works, Vol. IX. Lond. 1753. Letter CVII.
t Sept. 20, 1741. J Pref. to his Works.
^ Pope's Works, Vol. IX. Letter CX. note.
Vol. I. +- D Here

34 L^-FE OF
Here accordingly they^net : a great part of the new
poem was read and highly approved : the rest was
finished In the course of the year 1742, and a project
formed for making Mr. Warburton the Editor of the
IV books complete; which was executed very eariy in
1 743 ; and so much to the author's satisfstction, that he
after-ivards engaged him to sustain the like office with
resiard to the rest of his Works *.
I shall find a fitter place, In the course of these re*
flexions, to speak my own sentiments of the edition of
;Mr. Pope's works. All I have now to add on this in
teresting part of Mr. Warburton's Ufe, Is, that the most
unreserved confidence continued between the two
friends till Mr. Pope's death, in &lay 1 744 : and with
what warmth of affection on both sides, appears from
the last will and testament of the latter, and from
the zeal of the former to fulfil his intention, and to do
all possible honour to his memory.
It must, indeed, be regretted that this memorable
friendship commenced so late, and ended so soon. We
might otherwise, have seen the most valuable fruits ofit.
Their hearts and heads were exactly attuned to each
other ; and, had the Ufe and health of IMr. Pope per
mitted, this harmonious agreement in the powers and
purposes of two such men could not have failed to
produce many a noble design iiijkvour of virtue and
reUgion. The death of our great poet, was an ev,ent that could
not faU of putting the spirits of the ingenious in motion,
and of exciting an emulation, among the lovers of
polite literature, to adorn his memory and virtues. It
accordingly produced Mr. Brown's Essay on Satire,
wliich vvas addressed to Mr.Warburton, and so far'
* Letters 112, J13, 114^ 115, approved

THE AUTHOR. 35
approved by him, as to be prefixed to his edition
of Mr. Pope's works. It also brought on the dawn of
Mr. Mason's genius, in The Monody, entitled Musaeus ;
which gave so sure a presage, of his future eminence
in poetry, and so advantageous a picture of his mind,
that Mr. Warburton, on the sight of it,
" With open arms received one poet more."
Soon after Mr. Pope's death, Mr. Warburton re
ceived a letter from a learned and ingenious lady, Mrs,
Cockburne, lamenting that event, and making some
enquiry after Mr. Pope's works ; but the real purpose
of the letter-writer was to draw Mr. Warburton into
an explanation of his system concerning Moral Obli
gation, as delivered in the first volume of the D. L. it
being difterent from one espoused by herself, which
was that of Dr. Samuel Clarke.
His answer to this Lady is w ritten with great civility
and politeness, and was so well received, that, when, a
year or two afterwards, she drew up her confutation
of Dr. Rutherforth's Essay on 'N'^Irtue, she sent the
manuscript to Mr. Warburton ; who was extremely
pleased with it, and wrote a short preface In recom
mendation of that work. His Letter may be seen in
the Appendix [B.]
But to retum to what I was saying of Mr. Pope's
friendship for Mr. Warburton.
Next to the enjoyment itself of such a friendship,
the chief benefit Mr. Warburton derived from It, was
the being introduced by his means to his principal
friends ; particularly Mr. Murray, and Mr. Allen ;
two of the greatest and best men of the age. As I
had myself the honour of being well acquainted with
these excellent persons, and very much obUged to them,
p 3 I may

36 LIFE OF
I may the rather be allowed to indulge myself in tlie
recollection of their virtues.
Mr. Murray, afterwards Earl of Mansfield and
Lord Chief Justice of England, was so extraordinary
a person, and made so great a figure in the world, that
his name must go down to posterity, with distinguished
honour, in the public records of the nation. For his
shining talents displayed themselves in every depart
ment of the State, as well as in the supreme Court
of Justice, his peculiar province ; which he filled
with a lustre of reputation, .not equalled perhaps,
certainly not exceeded, by that of_any of his pre
decessors. Of his conduct in the House of Lords, I can speak
with the more confidence, because I speak from , my
own observation. Too good to be the leader, and too
able to be the dupe, of any party, he was beUeved to
speak his own sense of public measures ; and the
authority of his judgement was so high that, in regular
times, the House w-as usually determined by it. He
was no forward, or frequent speaker ; but reserved
himself, as was fit, for occasions worthy of him. Iri
debate, he was eloquent as well as wise ; or rather, he
becarae eloquent by his wisdom. His countenance and
tone of voice imprinted the ideas of penetration,
probity^ and candour ; but what secured your attention
and assent to aU he said, was his constant good sense,
flowing in apt terms and the clearest method. He
affected no sallies of the imagination, or bursts bf
passion ; much less would he condescend to personal
abuse or petulant altercation. All was clear, candid
reason, letting itself so easily into the minds of his
hearers as to carry information and conviction with it
In a word, his public senatorial character resembled very

THE AUTHOR. 37
Very much that of Messala, of whom Cicero says,
addressing himself to Brutus —
" Do not iinagbe, Brutus, that, for worth, honour,
*' and a warm love of his country, any one is com-
" parable to jNIessala : So that his eloquence, iii which
" he wonderfully excels, is almost eclipsed by those
" virtues. And even in his display of that faculty^
*' his superior good sense shews itself raost: with so
" much Care and skill hath he formed hiraself to the
" truest raanner of speaking I His powers of genius
" and invention are confessedly of the first size^ yet
" he almost ow^es less to themT'than to the diligent and
" studious cultivation of his judgement *."
In the commerce of private life, he vvas easy, friendly,
and agreeable ; extreraely sensible of merit in other
men, and ready on all occasions to countenance and
produce it. From his early youth, he had attracted
the notice, and obtained the friendship and applause^
of our great poet.
Mr. Allen vvas a man oi plain good sense, and
the most benevolent temper. He rose to great con
sideration by fanning the cross-posts ; which he put
into the admirable order in w hich we now find them ;
very much to the public adv-iiltage^ as well as his own.
He was of that generous composition, that his mind
enlarged with his fortune; and the wealth he so
* " Cave putes probitate, con.stantii, cura, studio reipub^
" licae, quidquam illi simile esse ; ut eioquentia, qui mi-
" rabiliter excellit, vix in eo locum ad laudandum habere
" videatur. Quanquam in bac ipsa sapientia plus apparet t
*' ita gravi judicio mult^ue arte se exercuit in verissimo
" genere dicendi. Tanta autem industria est, tantumtjue
" evigilat in studio, ut non maxim^ ing^io, quod in eo sum*
"^ mum est, gratia habenda videatur." Ci^. ad Brutum, 1. 1 5*
jf^ D3 honourably

38 LIFE OF
honourably acquired, he spent in a splendid hospitality,
and the most extensive charities. His house, in so
public a scene as that of Bath, was open to aU men
of. rank and worth, and especially to men of distin
guished parts and learning; whom he honoured and
encouraged ; and whose respective merits he was en
abled to appreciate, by a natural discernment and su
perior good sense, rather than any acquired use and
knowledge of letters. His domestic virtues were
above all praise. With these quaUties he drew to him
self an universal respect ; and possessed, in a high
degree, the esteem of INIr. Pope, ¦who, in one of his
moral essays, has done justice to his modest and
amiable character.
To these two incomparable persons Mr. Pope was
especially anxious to Introduce his friend; and it was
not long before he experienced the most substantial
benefits from this recommendation.
In the mean time, his attention was turned towards
that numerous host of a'-iswcrers, which the D. L. of
ISioses had brought down upon him. The extensive
argument, and miscellaneous nature of that work, had
led him to declare his sentiments on a multitude of
questions, on which he thought differently from other
writers, and of course to censure or confute their
opinions. Whole bodies of men, as well as indivi
duals of the highest reputation, were attacked by him ;
and his raanner was to speak his sense of all with
freedom and force. So that raost writers, and even
readers, had some ground of complaint against him.
Not only the free-thinkers and unbelievers, against,
whom the tenour of his book was directed, but the,
heterodox of every denomination were treated without
much ceremony; ind of those, reputed orthodox, some tenet

THE AUTHOR. 3-9
«enet or other, which tiU then they had held sacred,
was discussed and reprobated by hira. Straggling
heresies, or erabodied systems, made no differ^ce
with him ; as they came in his way, no quarter was
given to either : " his end and manner of writing," as
Dr. Middleton truly observed, " being to pursue
" tnith, wherever he found it, and, frora the midst
" of smoke and darkness, to spread light and day
" around him *."
Such a writer (independently of the envy, which
ever attends superior genius) must needs have innurae
rable eneraies. And as aU could not receive, nor the
greater part deserve, his notice, he deterrained to select
a few of the more respectable, out of the gross body
of assailants, and to quit his hands of them at once,
in a general comprehensive answer. This was done
by Remarks on several occasional Reflections^ in two
parts ; the former pubUshed in 1 744, and the second
(which he styles the last) in 1 745 ; and both, executed
in such a manner as was not likely to Invite any fresh
attacks upon him ¦\.
, Yet the rage -of his answerers was not presently sub
dued. Writing to a confidential friend from Prior-
Park the year following [July 15, 1746] he tells
,him — " I have a deluge of writers against me. But
two great men have made me promise to answer none
of them. They said — * You imagine the v/orld takes
as much notice of your answerers, as you yourself do.
You are mistaken. The names of none of them
iwere ever heard of In good company. And the world
wonders you should so misemploy your time.' To
* Letter VII. in Dr. Middleton's 'V^^orks, Vol. II.
t See Vol. XI.- of this Edit. D 4 this

40 LIFE OF
this I said, ' It was true. But that there was another
body to which some regard should be had, the infenor
Clei^y.' They said, if such writers misled them, it
was in vain for me to think of them. And indeed I
begin to think Aristotle mistaken when he defined
man to be a rational animal. Not but I know the
source of all this opposition is rather to be attributed
to a bad heart, than a bad head. And you would be
surprized at the instances of envy I could give you.
Had I the complaisance to die to-raorrow, it would all
be over, before the end of the week. I ara in this
condition of a dead man, already, with regard to the
Indies, there being, at this immense distance, no room
for envy, as you will see by the following extract
of a letter I received from one of the Govemors of
Virginia :"
" I never had so much profit from any book, except
" the Bible, as from your's. The flood of infideUty
"has reached us. 'Ihe blessing of God upon your
" excellent pen will, I hope, preserve us from the
" evil influence. Pennsylvania seems to be over-run
" with Deism. The Quakers are generally infected,
" and it being their constitution to have no established
" religion, their too-universal toleration receives all
" without distinction. And they who worship God,
*' and they who do not, are in the same esteera.
•' Your first and second volumes of the Divine
" Legation came over to their public Ubrary. I
" recommended it strongly. It soon became the
" subject of all conversation. Never were such
" struggles about any book, who should first read it
" The reasonable were convinced ; the obstinate were
" astonished. A friend of mme, of learning and station
" there, spoke of it with the warmebt praise : be said, « it

THE AUTHOR. 41
" it had made him ten times more a Christian, than he
" had ever been." —
1 he.se reflexions were consolatory to him, and made
him bear with more temper the petulance of his adver
saries ; whom he .seems to have neglected, till one of
high lame and confident pretensions forced him again
into the field ot controversy. Lut this was not till
some years afterwards.  i now go on with my nar
rative from 1 745.
Mr. Pope had very early introduced his friend to
the notice of Lord Ciiestcrtield ; w ho going this year
Lord Lieutenant to Ireland, was desirous of taking
Mr. Warburton with him, as his first Chaplain. He
had his reasons for declining tliis offer ; but he had a
proper sense of the civility, and made his public
acknowledgements for it in a dedication of the AlliancBt
reprinted with many corrections and improvements in
1748. The style of compliment In this piece will
perhaps be censured as too high. But the truth is,
that specious Nobleman had the fortune to be bettor
thougtit ot^ in his lifetime, than he has been since.
The general opinion tiierefore (which carae confirmed
to him by Mr. Pope) very naturally inflamed the
expression of his gratitude, in that panegyrical epistle.
Alter an acquaintance of sorae years, Mr. Allen
had, now, seen so much of his friend, that he wished
to unite him still more closely to himself by an alliance
of marriage with an accomplished Lady of his own
faraily *. .
This event took place in the beginning of the year
1 746 ; and soon after, the preachership of Lincoln's-
Inn happening to become vacant, Mr. Munay, then
* Miss Gertrude Tucker,, Mr. Allen's favourite niece.
Solicitor

4'2 LIFE "Of "
Solicitor General, easily prevaUed with the leameci'
Bench to invite so eminent a person, as Mr. Warbur
ton, to accept that Office, n.
From the time of his marriage, Mr. Warburton
resided chiefly at Prior-Park. In so agreeable, or,
rather, splendid a retreat, he enjoyed health, affluence,
and leisure; the best company, when he chose td
partake of it; and every 'other accommodation, which
could be acceptable to a raan of letters. His ambition
was, also, gratified with the highest personal reputa- '
tion; and, in due time, he succeeded to the chief
honours of his profession. All this he could not but
be sensible of. Yet, I have heard him say, that the
most delicious season of his life was that which he had
spent at Newark and Brand-Broughton. So delight
ful are the springing hopes of youth ! and so enchant
ing the scenes which open to a great geriiiis, when he
comes first to know himself, and to make trial of his
powers ! The impression, these left upon hira, is very
agreeably desaibed in a letter to Mr. C^ Yorke, so late
as the year 1 758. Mr. Yorke had acquainted him with
an excursion he had been making into Nottingham^
shire. In his answer from P. P. Oct. 2, 1758, he
says — " I am glad to understand ybu have amused
" yourself agreeably with a ramble Into Nottingham-
" shire. It would have been the greatest pleasure to
" have chopped upon you at Newark : And I would
" have done so, on the least intimation. I could have
" led you through deUcious walks, and picked off, for
" your amusement In our rambles, a thousand notions
" which I hung upon every thorn, as I passed, thirty
" years ago." But

THE AUTHOR. 4*
Put to return from this reflexion.
^ The Preachership of Lincoln's-Inn had been offered
him in so handsome a manner, that it could not be
refiised. Otherwise, the tiling wds not agreeable to
him. In a letter to Dr. Taylor * from Prior-Park, May 22^
1 746, he says — " I think I told you in my last, that
the Society of Lincoln's- (on had made me an
*' unanimous offer of the Preachership ; which there-
" fore I could not refuse, though I would gladly have
done it. For it will require five or six months
*' attendance. And the advantage of the thing itself
" you may judge of, by this : Mr. Allen would, have
me take a house, for which I pay as much rent, as
" the whole Preachership is worth. This only to you.
And don't think I speak with any affectation when
" I tell you In your ear, that nothing can be more
" disagreeable to me, than this way of life. But I
*' hope and determine that it shall not continue long.
" Don't you pity me ? I shall be forced to write
" sermons : and God knows what will become of
the D. L. But if I can do any good in this new
*' station, I shall know how to bear the dis'iigreements
" of it, and that's all. How capricious is the fate of
" mortals ! Any other clergyman would think himself
" happy In such an honour as the Society has done
*' rae. I believe It is the first | that has been done to
" their Preacher. Yet I have no joy in it."
* Tiie Physician — first of Newark, afterwards of London,
very eminent in his profession, and from his early youth a'
friend of Mr. Warburton's.
f He means, hy the unanimous ofTer of their preachership.
+- X) 6 The

44 LI^E OF
The truth is, the attendance on the term broke jrt
upon his leisure ; and, what was worse, the necessity
he was under of composing sermons, with which he
was but slenderiy provided, diverted him from other
things, for which he judged himself better qualifiedj
and which he had more at heart
The fruits of his Industry in this new office ther^
will be occasion to speak of, and to appreciate here
after. For tlie present. It is true, his greater designs
received some interruption, and particularly, as hd
intimates, that of the D^ L. ; although other reasons
concurred to make him deffcr (indeed hiuh too loiig)
the prosecution of that noble work.
In the year 1747 appeared his edition of Shake*
iBpeare's w^^orks, w hich he had undertaken at the instance
of Mr. Pope. " He was desirous " — the editor speaTcs Iri
his own person-'—" I should give a new edition of this
" poet ; and that his edition should be meUed down
*' Into mine. In memory of our frieridshipj I have
" therefore made itour joint edition*."
As the public envy was now at its height, from the
rising fortune, as well as fame, of the author, this
edition awakened a spirit of criticism, which haunted '
him In every shape of dull ridicule, and solemn con* •
fu tation. Happening to speak of this, in a letter'
written to hitn 1749 (for by that time I had the honour
of being personally acquainted with him) he replies to
me In the following Uvely manner — " Ihave, asyoil'
" say, raised a spirit without designing It. And, while
" I thought I was only conjecturing, it seems I was
" conjuring. So that I had no sooner evoked the
*' name of Sliakespeare from the rotten monument
* Preface to Shakespeare. " of

THE AUTHOR. 45
" of his former editions, than a crew of strange devils,
*' and raore grotesque than any he laughs at in the
" old farces, came chattering, mewing, and grinning
" round about me *."
The outcry against him was, indeed, pretty much
what is here so pleasantly described. His illustrations
of the poet's sense were frequently not taken ; and his
corrections of the faulty text, not allowed. And, to
speak candidly, it could scarce be otherwise. For,
though all pretend to be judges of poetry, few have
any idea of poetical criticism. And, as to what con
cems the emendation of the text, the abler the critic,
the raore liable he is to some extravagance of con
jecture (as we see in the case of Bentley himself) ; it
being dulness, and not judgement, that best secures
him from this sort of imputation "f. For
* Prior-Park, Sept. 28, 1749.
f The apology, which an eminent French writer make*
fbr Joseph Scaliger, may serve for all Coaunentators of hk
«ize: " Je ne s^ay si on ne pourroit pas dire que Scaliger
" avoit trop d'esprit, et trop de science, pour faire un boa
" commentaire ; car a force d'avoir de I'esprit, il tiouvoit
" ans les auteurs qu'il commentoit, plus de finesse et plus
" de genie, qu'ils n'en avoient efFectivement ; et sa profonde
" literature 6toit cause qu'il voyoit mille rapports entre les
" pensees d'un auteur, et quelque point rare d'antiquitie.
" De sorte qu'il s'imaginoit que son auteur avoit fa:it
" quelque aUusion a ce point d'antiquite, et sur ce pied-la
" il corrigeoit un passage. Si on n'aime mieux s'imaginer
" que I'envie d'eclaircir un mistere d'erudition inconnu aux
" autres critiques, i'engageoit a supposer qu'il se trouvoit
" dans un tel ou tel passage. Quoiqu'il en soit, les com-
" xnentaires qui viennent de lui, sont pJeins de conjectures
" hardies, ingenieuses, et fort s^avantes, mais il n'est gueres
" apparent

46 LIFE OF
For the rest, such is the felicity of his gettius in
restoring numberless passages to their integrity, and in
explaining others which the author's sublime Concep
tions, or his licentious expression, had kept out of
sight, that this fine edition of Shakespeare raust ever
be highly valued by men of sense and taste ; a spirit,
congenial to that of the author, breathing throughout,
and easily atoning, with such, for the little mistakes
and inadvertencies, discoverable in it.
Mr. Warburton very properly neglected all attacks
on his own critical farae. But of one, that was made
soon after on the raoral character of his friend, he
took raore notice. In 1 749 an insignificant pamphjet,
under the narae of A Patriot King, was published by
Lord Bolingbroke, or by his direction, with a preface
to it, reflecting highly on Mr. Pope's honour. The
provocation was simply this. The raanuscript of that
trivial declamation had been intrusted to the care of
Mr. Pope, with the charge (as it was pretended) that
only a certain number of copies should be printed.
Mr. Pope, in his excessive admiration of his Lordship
(which was the chief foible of his character) took that
opportunity, for fear so invaluable a treasure of patriot- "
eloquence should he lost to the public, to exceed his
coraraission, and to run off more copies, which were
found, after his death, in the printer's warehouse ; but
with so little secresy that several of his friends, and
in particular Mr. Allen (a.s he told me) was apprized
of it at the time, and by Mr. Pope rhlmself. This
charge, however frivolous, was aggravated beyond
measure;
" apparent que les aateurs ayentsonrfe ^-toutce qu'ildenr
" fait dire. On s'^loigne de leur sens aussi, bien quand oa
" a beaucoup d'esprit, que quand on n'en a pas," .&&—
Nouvelles de la Ripublique des Lettres, Juin 1664.

THE AUTHOR. 47
mcasm'e; and, notwithstanding the proofs Lord Boling^
broke had received of Mr. Pope's devotion to iUm,
envenomed with the utmost maUgnity. INIr. Warburton
thought it became him to vindicate his deceased fiiend ;
and he did it so effectually, as not only to silence his
accuser, but to cover him with confusion.
And here let me have leave to pause a little, while,
in emulation of this generous conduct of my friend
towards one great man, I endeavour to perform the
same office towards another ; the most amiable of his
time ; who has suffered, in the public opinion, by a
ch'arge of immoral meanness brought against him by
Mr. Pope him.self, and, as I am persuaded, without
the least foundation. The person I raean is INL'-,
Addison, in whose good name, as In that of Mr. Pope,
Virtue herself has an interest. He and Mr. Pope
were, likewise, friends ; and this relation between taeni
brings the two cases into a still nearer resemblance
with each other.
The charge, I allude to, is briefly this — Mr. Addison
had uniformly * advised and encouraged Jkfr. Popes
translation of the Iliad, from the year 1713, when
the desim of that work was firs-t communicated to him.
O
He had even been zealous to promote the subscription
to it-; and In May 1716, when a considerable progress
had been made in the translation, and some parts of it
published, he speaks of It in the Freeholder, N°40, in
tlie following manner :
" When I consider rayself as a British fieehdlder,
" I am in a particular manner pleased with the labours
" of those wiio have improved our language with tlie
" translation of old Latin and Greek authors ; and by .
* See Letters to and from Mr. Addison, in Mr. Pope's-
Works, -i- D 8 " that

48 LIFE Oi^
" that means let us into the knowledge of what passed
" in the famous governments of Greece and Rome.
" We have already most of their historians ih our own
«' tongue : and what is stiU more for the honour of our
" language, it has been taught to express with elegance!
" the greatest of their poets In each natiori. The
" illiterate among our countrymen may learn to judge
" from Dryden's Virgil, of the most perfect Epic per-
• " formance : and those parts of Homer which have
" already been pubUshed by Mr. Pope, give us rea-
" son to' think the Iliad wiU appear In English with as
" Uttle disadvantage to that immortal poem."
Notwithstanding aU this, Mr. Pope believed, and
his friends, as waa natural; beUeved with him, that in
1715 Mr. Addison either translated himself, or em
ployed Mr. Tickell to translate, the first book of the
Iliad, in opposition to him.
If we ask on what grounds this exti'aordinary charges
Is brought against such a man as Mr. Addison, we are
only told of some sUght and vague Suspicions, without
any thing that looks like a proof, either external or
internal. What there is of the latter tisnds to confute
the charge. For whoever is acquainted with Mn
Addison's style and manner, miist be certain that the .
translation was not his own, though Steele, in a peevish
letter written against Tickell *, has, It seems, insinuated
•some such thing. And for external proof, we have
absolutely nothing but a report from liearsay evidence^
that Mr. Addison had expressed himself civilly of
TickeU's performance ; whence it Is concluded that this-
translatlon was, at lea.st, undertaken by Mr. Addison's
advice and authority, If not made by himself
¦ * Dedication of tl'iC Drummer to Mr. Cono-reve, Still,

THE AUTHOR. 49
Still, it will be owned, that so generous a man as
Mr. Pope must believe he had some proof of this
charge against his friend: and I think, I have, at
length discovered what it was.
I have seen a printed copy * of TickeU's translation,
in which are entered many criticisms and remarks in
Mr. Pope's ow n hand. And from two of these, com
pared together, I seem to collect the true ground, of
the suspicion. But the reader shall judge for himself.
To the translation, are prefixed a Dedication,
and Advertisement. The latter is in these words
— " I must inform the reader, that, when I began •
" this first book, I had some thoughts of translating
" the whole Iliad : but had the pleasure of being di-
" verted fi-om that design, by finding the work was
" fallen intp a much abler hand. I would not there-
" fore be thought to have any other view in pubUshing
" this small specimen of Homer's Iliad, than to,
" bespeak, if possible, the favour of the Public to a
*' translation of Homer's Odysseis, wherein I have
*' already made some progress."
To the words in this advertisement — when I began
this first ' book — Mr. Pope affixes this note — See the
first line of the Dedication.
Turning to the dedication, we find it begin thus —
" When I first entered upon this translation 1 was
•' ambitious of dedicating It to the late Lord Halifax."
* It was then in Mr. Waiburtoji's hands. It was aftei-*
wards sold, by mistake, among the other books which he had
at his house in town, to Mr. T. Payne, and came at length
into the possession of Isaac Reed, Esq. of Staple-Inn ;. who
was so obliging as to make me a present of it, to be kept in
the library at Hardebury (in which that of Mr. Pope is
JDcluded), where it now remains. *
^ Vol I. E Over

50 LIFE OF
 Over against which words is, likewise, entered) ia
Mr. Pope's hand, the following note. The translator
was first knorm to him [Lord Halifax] four months
before his death. He died in May 1 7 1 5 •
Now, from comparing these two notes together, on«
sees clearly how Mr. Pope reasoned on the matter. He
concluded from TickeU's saying— w^ew he first entered
on this translation, that is, began this first book, he
thought of dedicating kis work to Lord Hal fax —
that he could not have entertained this thought, if he
had not at that time been known to Lord Halifax. Bnt
it was certain, it seeras, that Mr. TickeU vias first
known to that Lord only four months before his
death, in May 1715. Whence it seeraed to follow,
that this first book had been written within, or since,
that time.
Adraittujg this conclusion to be rightly raade by
Mr. Pope, it raust indeed be allowed that he had much
reason for his charge of insincerity on Mr. Addison,
who, as a friend that had great influence with the trans
lator, would not have advised, or even permitted, such
a design to be entered upon and prosecuted by him at
tills juncture. But there seems not the least ground
for such a conclusion. Lord Halifax was the great
patron of wits and poets ; and if Tickell had forraed his
design of translating the Iliad long before Mr. Pope,
was known to have engaged in that work, he might very
well be supposed to think of dedicating to this Maece
nas, as much a strangef as he then was to him. Nothing
is more coramon than such intentions in literary raen ;
although Mr. Pope might be disposed to conduct hira-.
self, in such a case, with more delicacy or dignity.
I see, then, no reason to infer from the premises,
that Mr. Tickell began his first book but four months;
^^ befpre

THE AUTHOR. 5%
before Lord HaUfax's death. For any thing that
appears to the contrary, he might have begun, or even
finished it, four years before that event, and have only
relinquished the thoughts of prosecuting his translation
frora the time that hefound this work had fallen, as he
says, into an abler, that is, Mr. Pope's hand .
These passages, however, of the Advertisement, and
Dedication, reflected upon and compared together,
furnished Mr. Pope, as I suppose, with the chief of
those odd concurring circumstances, which, as we are
told *, convinced hira that this translation of the first
book of the Iliad was pubUshed with Mr. Addison's
participation, if not composed by hira^ If the work
had been begun hutfour months before its appearance,
it must have been at least by his allowance and parti
cipation ; if before that tirae, (Mr. TickeU's acquaint
ance with Lord HaUfax not being of so early a date)
it was, raost probably, his own composition. And
to this latter opinion, it seeras, Mr. Pope inclined.
How inconclusive these reasonings are, we have now
seen. All that remains therefore is to account for the
publication at such a time. And for this, I see not why
Mr. TickeU's own reason may not be accepted as the
true One — that he kad no other view in publishing this
^ecimen, than to bespeak tke famur: qf tke public to
a translation of tke Odysseis, in which he kad mads
some progress.
The time, it must be owned, was an unlucky one.
But if Mr. Addison had reason to believe his friend's
motive to be that which he professed, he might think
it not fit to divert him from a work which was Ukely
to serve his interest (poetical translation being at that
time the most lucrative eraployment of a man of
• la the notes on Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot.
S 2 letters),

52 LIFE or*
letters), and though it had less merit than Mr. Pope's,
to do him some credit. And for the civility of speaking
well of his translation afterwards, or even of assisting
him In the revisal of it, this was certainly no raore tiian
Mr. Addison's friendship for the translator required.
That Mr. Addison had, in fact, no unfriendly inten
tion in the part he had taken in this affair, is certain
from the passage before cited frora the Freeholder,
where he speaks' so honourably, in May 1716, of
Mr. Pope's translation, after all the noise that had been
made about Mr. TickeU's first book in the suramer of
1715. We may indeed impute this conduct to fear,
or dissiraulation : but a charge of this nature ought
surely not to be raade, but on the clearest and best
grounds. I have the rather introduced these observations
into the account of my friend's life, as he himself had
been led by Mr. Pope's authority to credit the impu
tation on Mr. Addison ; and, on more occasions than
one, had given a countenance to it. And it is but
justice to him, to assure the reader that when, some
years before his death, I shewed him this Vindication,
he professed hiraself so much satisfied with it, as to
say, if he Uved to see another edition of Mr. Pope's,
works, he would strike out the offensive reflexions on
Mr. Addison's character.
To return now to our subject. — We left Mr. War
burton illustrating the works of one of our great poets,
and vindicating the moral character of another. But
whatever amusements, or friendly offices, might employ
his pen, he never lost sight of what he had most at
heart, the defence of ReUgion. And a controversy
then carrying on, conceming the miraculous powers
of the Christian. Church, hetween Dr. Middleton and his

THE A U T H O R. 53
his opponents, and so managed, on both sides, as to
hurt the cause of Christianity itself, gave him occasion
to explain his own sentiments on the subject in an
admirable book, entitled Julian ; or, A Discourse
concerning the earthquake and fiery eruption which
defeated that emperors attempt to rebuild the temple at
Jerusalem. This work was published in 1 750, and is
w ritten throughout in the genuine spirit of Its author *.
It is introduced by an exquisite preface on the
Uterary character of the Fathers, and on the condition
of moral science before, and after, the appearance of
Christianity. This excellent book had the fate of the autiior's
other writings, to be censured at home. In a letter
from Prior-Paik to Dr. Balguy, Jan. 17, 1751 2, — «
" They teU me," says he, " there are some remarks
" published against my Julian. I don't know the
" nature of them, nor ever shall. Tliat matter inte-
" rests every clergyman, that is to say, every Christian,
" in England, as much as myself Besides, I have
" long since bid adieu to controversy. I give
" my sentiments to the publick, and there's an end.
" If any body, will oppose them, he has my leave. If
" any body wilj defend them, he has my thanks. I pro-
" pound tiiera freely ; I explain them as clearly and
" enforce them as strongly, as I can. I think I owe
" no more either to rayself or truth. I am sure I owq
" no more to the pubUck. Besides, I know a Uttle
" (as you will see by the new edition of the first and
" second volumes of D. L.) how to correct myself ;
" so have less need of this assistance from others :
" which you wUl better understand, when you see
" tiiat I have not received the least assistance froni
* See Vol. VIIL of this Edit,
£3 *' the

54 LIFE OF
" the united endeavours of that numerous band of
" answerers, who have spared no freedoms in teUing
" me of my faults."
Again, some months afterwards, writing to the same
friend— Bedford Row, May 12, 1752, he observes,
 « I think you judge rightly of the effects of
Lord Bolingbroke's writings, as weU as of their
character. As to his discourse on the Canon of
Scripture, I think it below aU criticism, though it
had mine. He mentions (and I believe, with good
faith) that foolish rabbinical fable of Esdras' re?
storing the whole lost canon by Inspiration ; and
argues from it. However, the redoubtable pen of
Sykes, though now worn to the stump, is drawij
upon him"; or, at least, threatened to be drawn. He
threatened, too, to draw it upon poor Julian ; but he
left the execution to another. And who dp yoij
think that other proves ? Somebody or other, by
far more curious than myself, would unearth this
verrain : And he is found to be one Nichols, which
your university some tirae ago prosecuted for stealing
their books, or rather should haye prosecuted,
Have I not reason to blarae you for your ill-timed
clemency ? Had they hanged him, as Justice called
upon them to do, my book had been safe. It is
true, he has not fiilfilled the old proverb, but rather
cbntributed to a, new one, " Save a rogue from the
gallows, and — —he will endeavour to save his fellow,
I had gibbeted up Julian, and he coraps by night to
cut him down."— The pleasantry of these reflexions
has drawn me into a citation of them. Otherwise,
it was scarce worth while to tell the reader whaj
some of our own prejudiced countrymen thought of
Jnlian. For the learned abroad were generally muchtakei?

THE AUTHOR. 55
taken with this work. Among others, the president
^fontesquieu *, who, it seems, was then meditating a
visit to his friends in England, writes thus to Mr.
Charles York from Paris, June 6, 1 753 : " When you
" see Dr. Warburton, pray let him know the satlsfac-
" tion I propose to myself in making a further ac-
" quaintance with him, and In taking a nearer view of
" his great talents. His Julian charms me ; although
" I have but Indifferent English readers, and have,
*' myself, forgotten a great deal of what I once knew
" of that language."
And speaking of this work some years afterwards,
in a letter to me, Mr. Warburton says, " My Julian
" has had a great effect in France, where Free-thinking
" holds its head as high as in England. This is a con-
" solation to me, as my sole aim is to repress that in-
¦' fernal spirit." An J a:,ain, — " It h-as procured me
^ the good will of the best and greatest man f In
" France; while there is hardly a nobleman in. England

'* knows I have written such a book [j;,"

This

* " Quand vous verrez Mr. le Docteur Wae burton,
" je vous prie de lui dire I'idee agreable qiie je me fais de
" faire plus ample connoissance avec lui ; d'aller trouver la
" source du sgavoir, et de voir la lumiere de I'esprit : son
" ouvrage sur Julien m'a enchant^, quoique je n'aie que de
" tres mauvais lecteurs anglois, et que j'ai presque oiablie
" tout ce que j 'en scavois."
t Due de Noailles — The intelligence was communicated
to the author by his friend, M. de Silhouette : who admired
his writings, and has translated some of them. See Preface
to Alliance,
X In planning his treatise on Julian, he had proposed, as
,the title-page sets forth, to enqidre into the nature of that
evidence, which will demand the assent of every reasonable man
-j- B, 4 ^ft

56 LIFE OF
This admirable work, as I observed, took its rise
from Dr. Middleton's Inquiry concerning tire miracu
lous powers in the Christian Church. That ingenious
man died towards the end of this year ; and although
some difference had arisen between thera In 1741,
and seems to have kept them asunder for the rest of
Dr. Middleton's life, yet no change appears to have
be^n made, by this misadventure, in Mr.Warburtona
opinion or even esteem of him, (so constant was he In
his friendships \) as the reader will see In the following
extract from a letter, which he wrote to me just before
the Doctor's death; '* Prior- Park, July ii, 1750. —
'* I hear Dr. Middleton has been at London (I sup^
" pose to consult Dr. Heberden * about his health)
*' and is retumed in an extreme bad condition. — I am
" much concerned for the poor man, and wish he may
" recover, with all my heart. Had he had, I will
" not say, piety, but greatness pf mind enough, not to
¦' suffer the pretended injuries of some Churchmen to
" prejudice him against Religion, I should love him
¦^ " living,
to a miraculous fact, But this part of hjs plan he reserved
for another discourse. The subject "vvas, in fact, resumed,
and has been sufHciently explained in the Discourse on the
Kesurrectiqn, Vol. ^. Discourse XXIX.
, * Dr. Middleton had been well acquainted with Dr.
Heberden at Cambridge, where he flourished in great repu-s
tation, for several j-ears, befoie he removed to London. He
has now [1 794], for some time past, declined all business 5
but, through the whole course of it, ¦w^as tire most esteemed,
of any phys.cian I have known, not only for his skill, but
generosity, in the exercise of his profession.— My own
personal obligations to hirn must be my excuse for the
liberty I take in paying this smaU tribute of respect to his
merit and character.

THE AUTHOR. 57
*' living, and honour his meraory when dead. Bu^
" good God, that man, for the discourtesies done him
*' by his miserable fellow-creatures, should be content
" to divest himself of the true viaticum, the comfort,
" the solace, the asylum from all the evils of human
" life, is perfectly astonishing ! I believe no one (all
*' things considered) has suffered more from the low
¦' ^d vile passions of the high and lovv amongst our
" brethren, than myself. Yet God forbid, it should
?' ever suffer me to be cold in the GospelTinterestsJ
*' which are Indeed so much my own, that without it
*' I should be dispiosed to consider huraanity, as the
^' raost forlorn part of the creation."
What this letter tenderly hints at, was the exact
truth. Dr. Middleton was an elegant scholar, and
very fine writer ; but, his vanity having engaged him
early in religious controversy on a subject which he
did not understand, he had given just offence to some
considerable Churchmen ; and yet would not con
descend to recover their good opinion by retracting
what he had hastily and unwarily advanced, plence,
the obstruction to his view s of preferment ; which by
degrees soured his temper so much, that his best
friends (as Mr. Warburton found by experience) could
not calra his resentments, or keep them from breaking
out into some unhappy prejudices against Religion
itself This misadventure was the effect ofhis passion,
not judgement : for his knowledge of theology was but
slight, and his talents not those which qualified him to
excel in that science. The bent ofhis genius and studies
lay another way, and had raised him to great eminence
in polite literature ; of which his Letter from Rome,
and his Life of Cicero, are shining instances. His
-i- E 5 other

58 LIFE OF
other works are of much less value, and will soon b«s
forgotten. Nothing shews the extent of Mr. Warburton's
genius, and the command he had of It, more, than his
.being able to mix the lightest with the most serious
studies, and to pass, as his friend speaks,
" From grave to gay, frOm lively to severe,"
with so much grace and facility : a striking Instance
of which power we have, here. In finding Julian
between our two poets. For in the very next year
[1751] he appeared again, as a critic and commen
tator. In the noble edition he gave of Mr. Pope's
¦works. And, as here there was no room for emenda
tory criticism, of all others the easiest to be misapplied
or misconstrued, so the public found very little to cen
sure on this occasion. Indeed the main object of thei
edition being to do justice to his friend. It was natural
for him to exert his whole force upon it ; and as none
can divine so happily of a poet's meaning, as the well-
exercised critic, if he be at the same time of a congenial
spirit with his author, it is no wonder that he made
this (w hat I formeriy said of It, and still think it to be)
ihe best edition that was ever given of any classic.
But, admirable as Mr. Warburton w as in this elegant
species of literature, we are now to take our leave of
him under that character ; his editions of Shakespeare
and Pope being, as he himself expressed It to me,
amusements, which his fondness for the works of one
poet, andfor the person of another, had engaged him in.
We are, henceforth, to see him only in his proper
office of Divine ; which he resumed when Mr. Pape''s
volumes were out of his hands, and ennobled by a set of

THE AUTHOR. 55
ibf Sermons, preached by him at Lincoln's-Inn, and
entitled Principles of Natural and Revealed Religion,
in two volumes-, the former pubUshed in 1752, and
the other in 1 754 ; to which he added a third in 1 767,
consistmg chiefly of occasional discourses *.
I bring his works of this sort together under one
view, that I raay consider them at once, and give the
reader an idea of their true character.
He had used himself very little to write sermons, till
he came to Lincoln's-Inn. His instructions to his
parish had either been deUvered without notes, or
extracted from the plainest discourses of our best
preachers. In his present situation, he found it ne
cessary to compose his sermons, and with care ; his
audience consisting wholly of men of education, and
those accustoraed to reasoning and inquiry. Here
was then a scene, in which bis learning and knowledge
might be produced with good efi'ect ; and it was in this
kind of discourse, that his taste and studies had qualified
him tp excel- His sermons are accordingly, all of
thera, of this cast ; not slight harangues on ordinary
subjects, but close, weighty, methodical discourses, on
the most momentous doctrines of natural and revealed
jreligion ; opening the grounds of them, and supporting
them against objections ; expressed in that style of
nervous eloquence, which was natural to him, and
brightened occasionally, but without affectation, by
the liveliest strokes of iraagination. In short, they
were written for the use of men of parts and learning
and wUl only be relished by such. They are masterly
in their way ; but fitter for the closet, than the Church ;
I mean, those mixt auditories, that are usually to be
expected in that place.
* See Vols. IX. & X. of this Edit, There

6o LIFE OF
There had been a friendship of long standing between
Mr. Warburton and Mr. Charies Yorke ; cultivated
with gi-eat affection and esteem on both sides; the
fruit of which appeared in 1753, in the offer of a pre
bend in tiie Church of Gloucester, by the Lord Chanr
cellor Hardwicke. In acknowledgement of this favour,
Mr. Warburton addressed the first volume of the
D. L. to his Lordship, when he gave tlie next edition
of that work. , Some, who were curious In observing
coincidencies, and meant to do honour both to the
patron and client, took notice that the stall, to-which
Mr. Warburton was preferred, was the same in which
the Lord Chancellor Nottingham, that great patron
pf all the leamed Churchmen in his time, had placed
Dr. Cudworth : Such a similitude was there appre
hended to be between the two Magistrates ; and, still
more strikingly, between the tw o Divines, authors of
Tke InteUectual System, and The Divine Legation!
But what idea of -Dignity soever might be annexed
to this prebend, he exchanged it, a year or two after,
for one of more value in the Church of Durham^
which Bishop Trevor (who did himself honour by the
disposal of his preferments) very obligingly gave hira,
at the request of Mr. Murray (now Attorney General)
hi 1 755-
He had been made Chaplain to the King, the year
before ; and that promotion, as well as the present,
making it decent for him to take his Doctor s degree,
the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Herring, very
wisely took to himself the honour (which the Univer
sity of Oxford had unhappily declined) of conferring
that distinction upon him.
^ But while his friends were vying with each other
m tiieir good offices aaid attempts to serve him," a
matter

THE AUTHt)R. Gt
¦matter far more interesting to hira, than any prefer
ment, engaged his attention during the course of these
two years.
Lord Bolingbroke died in 1751, and his philosophic
cal works were published in 1753. Every one knows
tiie pruiciples and presumption of that unhappy noble
man. He was of that sect, which, to avoid a raore
odious name, chuses to distinguish itself by that of
Naturalism ; and had boasted in private, what feats
he should be able to perform, in the attack, he had
long threatened, on all our metaphysics and theology;
in other words, on natural and revealed religion, •
Some had the simplicity to believe him on his word ;
and others, it may be, wished him success. All serious
men stood aghast at the loud vaunts of this GoUah of
the infidel party; and, prepossest with the Ideas of
consequence, which the fond applauses of his friends,
and (what must ever be lamented) of his tuneful friend,
had thrown about hira, waited with anxiety for the
event. ,
In the mean time, as that friend said divinely well
(for surely, in this instance, he prophesied, as well as
sang) " Heaven with loud laughter the vain toil surveys,
" And buries madmen in the heaps they raise."
Dr. Warburton had very early penetrated the views
of Lord Bolingbroke; and, observing some tincture of
his principles (but without the knowledge of the author,
who could not be trusted with the secret) artfully
instilled into the Essay on Man, had incurred his
immortal hatred by making the discovery, and, in con
sequence of it, by ' reasoning Mr. Pope out of his
¦¦, hands.

6s LIFE OF
hands*. It was easy to foresee what would follow^
from this vigilant and able Divine, when his Lord*
ship's godless volumes should come forth ; and the
dread of it seems to have kept them back, for the
remainder of his life. The interval, however, was
made good use of, in seasoning them with poignant
invectives against the Alliance and Divine Legation,
and with whole pages of the grossest personal abuse.
So that, when they appeared. Dr. Warburton was
provoked, as well as prepared, to give them a strict
examination, and was animated to the undertaking by
a just resentment, as well as religious zeal.
And these two principles (the most operative in our
nature) were never exerted to better purpose, or with
greater effect. He planned the Vieav of his Philosor
phy in Four Letters to a Friend f, and in writing it
has surpassed hiraself; the reasoning and the wit being
alike irresistible, the strongest and keenest that can
be conceived. He himself was not a littie pleased
with this work, and says in confidence to a friend J,
" I have given to it all the finishing in my power ; and
" reckon, if any thing of mine should stumble down
" to posterity, it wUl have as good a chance as any.
" And now — Ccestus artemque repono."
Some of Dr. Warburton's friends (such of them, I
mean, as had been the friends of Mr. Pope) had, of
course, been acquainted vyith Lord Bolingbroke; and
were very naturally in the common opinion of his
parts and abUities, without knowing much, or perhaps
* See Vol. XII. of this Edit. « View of Lord B^ng-
broke's PhUosophy," Letter IV.
t Mr. Alien of Prior-Park. J Dr. Balgay. any

THE AUTHOR. 65
any thing, ofhis reUgious sentiments. These were likely
to take offence at the fi-eedom of the View, which was to
shew him in a light very differenffrom that in which the
world had hitherto seen him. The consequence to him
self was clearly foreseen, and with no small concern.
Writing from P. P. to Mr. C. Yorke, Aug. 24, 1 754,
while these letters were drawing up, he says — " I am
*' busy with my second volume of Sermons, which I
** propose to pubUsh early in the whiter. I amuse
* myself too with another thing, which, were you here,
*' you Avould be plagued with : because I never like
*' my things so well as while you are reading them.
" I have a better reason for your reading them. But,
" to tell you the truth, this flatters me most. — ThQ
" thing will be without my name, and a secret, I wish
*' it may in no degree displease one I have so much
" reason to value, as our friend; nay, I would not
" have it displease any of his friends, on his account^
" You will ask me then why I venture upon it ? I
" will tell you sincerely. I think it my duty ; for I
¦" am a Christian. I think I was designed to be the
" declared enemy of Infidelity ; for I am a Utile
** fanatical." In a letter also to me, Sept. 7, 1754, he says — " A»
*' to my View of Bolingbroke, I tell It you in con-
** fidence, I am apprehensive of displeasing some by
** it whom I most honour, and at a critical time. So
" that I solemnly assure you, nothing but the sense
" of mdispensable duty, as a Christian and a Clergy-
" man, could have induced me to run the hazard of
" doing myself so much injury. But jacta est alea.
" All other Considerations are now past with me;
" and I let Providence take its course without any
^ soUcitude on my part" And

64 LlFfi OF
And again, Dec. lo, 1754, some time after the two
first letters were pubUshed, and whUe he was prepar
ing the two last—" I go on pushing this grand enemy
" of God and Godliness. But what I predicted to
" you, I am sorry to tell you, I have experienced to
" be true ; that I tread per cineres dolosos. How-
" ever, ray duty tells nfie, this is a capital case, and
" I must on."
What he alludes to, is an anonymous letter, sent
him by the post, and expostulating with hira, but in
the friendliest terms, on the manner in which he had
treated the subject of the View, in the parts already
printed. He guessed at the writer*, and had the
highest respect for him. He resolved, therefore, to
make his apology to him, and (as he was denied the
opportunity of a private explanation) in a public
answer to his letter. Accordingly, in 1755, he printed
the two concluding letters o^^the View, with an Apology'
for the two first ¦\ ; which noy stands in this edition,
as it did in the subsequent ones of the View in the
author's lifetime, as a prefatory discourse in vindica
tion of the whole work. The occasion of the subject
fired the writer. His very soul came out in every
sentence, and Is no where seen to more advantage than
in this Apology ; which is written throughout with a
pecuUar glow of sentiment and expression, and is, at
once, the most interesting, and the most masterly of
all his works.
It had the effect, which was natural, on the so
much respected letter-writer ; who thought fit to pre
serve an inviolable silence in regard to this apology,
* Mr, Munay.
t See Vol. XII. of this Edit. but,

T H F A U T H O R. 6s
fcut, by a signal act of friendship, done to the authof
Very soon after* shewed how entirely satisfied he
was with him.
As to the " View " itself. It was universally read and
admired. The foUowers of Lord Bolinsbroke and his
philosophy hung their heads : the friends of reUgion
took heart: and these big volumes of impiety sunk
immediately into utter contempt.
After this complete triumph over the great Chieftain
of his party. It would scarce be worth while to cele
brate his successes against inferior adventurers. If one
ofthem had not published his own shairae; and if
what I owe to Dr. Warburton's memory did not require
me to explain a triflmg matter, in which I happened
to be concemed.
Mr. Hume had given an early specimen of his free-
thinking philosophy in some super-subtile lucubrations
of the metaphysical kind : which however did no great
mischief to religion ; and, what chagrined him almost
as muchj contributed but little to his own fame, being
too sublime, or too dark, for the apprehensions of his
readers. For so good a purpose as that of assisting
in the common cause of impiety, he thought fit to
come out of the clouds, and to attempt a popular vein
of writing, as the more likely to get himself read and
talked of In the world. In 1 749 he therefore gave the
public a hash ofhis stale notions, served up In the taking
forra and narae of Essays, and with a stronger, at least
a more undisguised, mixture of Atheism than before.
Dr. Warburton, who was then sending his JuUan
to the press, saw these Essays, and had thoughts of
closing that work ¦with some strictures upon them.
In a letter of Sept. 28, of that year, to a friend at Cam-
* See pagedo.
Vol. L -^ F hridge,

66 LIFE OF
bridge, he says,-" I am tempted to have a stroke at
" mime in parting. He Is the autiaor of a little book ,
" called Philosophical Essays: In one part of which
" heargues against the being of a God; andin another
" (very needlessly, you wiU say) against the possibility
" of miracles. He has crowned the Uberty of the
" press. And yet he has a considerable post under
" the government. I have a great mind to do justice
" on his arguments against miracles, which I think
" mioht be done In few words. But does he deserve
" this notice ? Is he known amongst you ? Pray,
^' answer me these questions. For if his own weight
" keeps him down, I should be sorry to contribute to
" his advanceraent to any place, but the pillory."
No encouraging answer, I suppose, was returned to
this letter; and sp the author of the Essays escaped,
fpr this time. His next effort was to discredit ReUgion
by what he calls, its Natural History. This book
came out early In 1757, and falling into the hands of
Dr. Warburton, provoked him, by its uncomrnon li-;
centlousness, to enter on the margin, as he went along,
such remarks as occurred to him. And when that was
too narrow to contain them all, he put dpwp the rest
on loose scraps of paper, which he stuck between the
leaves. In this state the book was shewn to me (as
I chanced at that time to be in London with the
author) merely as matter of curiosity, and to giye me
an idea pf the contents, how mischievous and exr
travagant they were. He had then written remarks
on about two thirds of the volum,e : And I Uked them
so well, that I advised him, by all means, to carry them
on through the remaining parts of it, and then to fi|
them up, in what way he thought best, for publiq use,
¦ivliich I told him they yery well deserved. He put by

THE AUTHOR. 67
this proposal slightly ; but, when I pressed him again
on this head, some time after, in a letter from Cam
bridge, he wrote rae the following answer.
" As to Hurae, I had laid it aside ever since you
were here. I will now, however, finish ray skeleton.
It wUl be hardly tiiat. If then you tiiink any thing
can be raade of It, and wiU give yourself the trouble,
we may perhaps between us do a littie good, which
I dare say we shall both think will be worth a littie
pains. If I have any force in the first rude beating
out the mass, you are best able to give it the elegance
of form and splendour of polish. This will answer
my purpose, to labour together in a joint work to do
a Uttle good. I wUl tell you fairly. It is no more the
thing it should be, than the Dantzick iron at the
forge is the gilt and painted ware at Birraingham.
It will raake no raore than a pamphlet ; but you
shall take your own time, and make It your summer's
amusement, If you will. I propose it bear some
thing like this title — ' Remarks on Mr. Hume's late
Essay, called, The Natural History of Religion, by
a Gentleman of Cambridge, In a Letter to the Rev.
Dr. Warburton.' — I propose the address should be-
with the dryness and reserve of a stranger, who likes
the method of the Letters on Bolingbroke's philo
sophy, and follows it here, against the same sort of
writer, inculcating the same Impiety, Naturalism,
and employing the same kind of arguments. The
address will remove it from me ; the author, a
gentleman of Cambridge, from you ; and the secrecy
of printing, from us both."
I saw by this letter, he was not disposed to take
much trouble about the thing. Accordingly his papers
were soon after sent down to me at Cambridge, pretty
F 3 much

68 LIFE OF
much in the state I had seen them in at London, so
far as they then went, only with additional entries in
the latter part of the book. However, In this careless
detached form, I thought his observations too good to
be lost. And the hint of the Address suggested the
means of preserving them, without any Injury to his
reputation, and indeed without much labour to myself.
Having, therefore, transcribed tiie Remarks,* with
littie alteration, I only wrote a short introduction and
conclusion, merely to colour the proposed fiction ; and
in this form, sent them to the press.
When Dr. Warburton saw the pamphlet, he said,
I should have done much more, and worked up his
hasty remarks in my own way. He doubted, also,
whether tiie contrivance, as I had managed it, would
not be seen through. But in this he was mistaken;
for the disguise, as thin as it was, answered Its purpose
in keeping the real author out of sight.
Mr. Hume in particular (understanding, I suppose,
from his bookseller, wiio "^vas also mhie, that the manu
script came from me) was the first to fall into tiie trap.
He was much hurt, and no wonder, by so lively an
attack upon him, and could not help confessing it in
what he calls his own Life ; in which he has thought
fit to honour me with greater marks of his resentment,
than' any other of the writers against him : nay the
spiteful raan goes so far as to upbraid me with being a
follower (indeed, a closer, in this instance, than he
apprehended) of the Warb\f,rtonian school.
This idle story would i\ot have been worth the
telUng, but for the reason already given, That I could
* They are given in Vol. XII. of this edition, in their
original form. not,

THF AUTHOR. 69
not, in justice to the author, take the merit of so fine
a work to myself And yet in disclaiming it, the
rieader sees, I make but an awkward figure, as being
obliged to open the secret of our little stratagem, in
which the grace of it mainly consists. '
Dr. Warburton had now, for some time, been pre
paring, andin 1758 he printed, a correct and Improved
edition of the first volume of the D. L. The notes to
this edition are numerous and large ; sorae of which
are answers to objections raade to him by Archbishop
lacker. " Where you find me, says he in a letter to
" one ofhis fiiends [P. P. April 19, 1758], speaking,
" in the notes, of objections that have been made,
" understand them of the present Archbishop's, who
" formerly gave me sorae sheets of tiiem, which I have
" still by rae, and have in this edition considered all
** I thought worth observing."
Dr. Seeker was a wise raan, an edifying preacher,
and an exemplary Bishop. But the course of his life
and studies had not qualified him to decide on such a
work, as that of the D. L. Even in the narrow walk
of literature he most affected, that of criticising the
Plebrew text, it does not appear that he attained to
any great distinction. His chief merit (and surely it
was a very great one) lay In explaining clearly a"d
popularly, in his sermons, the principles deUvered by
'his friend, Bishop Butler, in his famous Book of The
Analogy, and In shewing the Important use of them
to ReUgion.
Of thi^ last admirable prelate, what Dr. Warburton's
sentiraents were, appears from a letter he wrote to
Dr. Balguy on his death, which happened in 1752—
'' You have heard of the death of the poor Bishop of
" Durham. The Church could have spared some other
r 3 " prelates

70 Lli-E OF
" prelates much better; and. In its present condition,
« could but III spare him. For his morals and serious
" sense of religion (to say nothing of his intellectual
" endowments) did honour to his station. His death
" Is particulariy unhappy for his chaplain. Dr. Forster.
" He is my friend, whom I much value, as one of
" -great worth, and whose ill luck I much lament. He
" has not only seen his hopes drop through, when he was
" every thing but In the very possession of them, but
" has lost a patron, who deserved tiie name offrierd,
" which goes much harder in the separation than the
" other." [P. P. June 21, 175 2. J g
In the memoirs of such a life, as I am now writing .¦
nothing, I am sensible, interests the reader less than the
chapter of preferraents. Yet these raust not be wholly
overlooked. Towards the end of tiie year 1757, Dr.
Warburton had been proraoted to the Deanery of
Bristol. And in the beginning of the year 1 760, by
Mr. Allen's interest with the rainister, Mr. Pitt, he was
advanced to the Bishoprick of Gloucester.
IIL
IN the common estimation, this last was a prefer-.
ment suitable to his merit. Mr. Pitt himself gloried
in it, as what did honour to his administration. I re
member to have seen a letter of his, in which he said —
that nothing of a private nature, since he kad been in
office, kad given kirn so much pleasure, as kis bringing
Dr. Warburton upon the Bench. This virtuous self-
gratulation became the minister ; and others,,may be
of his raind. But I have sometimes doubted with
myself, whether the proper scene of abilities, like his,
be not a private station, where only great writers have
the leisure to do great things. Here,

THE AUTHOR. 71
Here, at least, it was that The Alliance and
Divine Legation were written: And here, too,
was composed the immortal work of Ecclesiastical
Polity, which, in the end, proved so fatal to our
English DiscipUnarians ; now rising again In the
shape of Levellers and Socinians; but to fall again,
in good time, by one or other of our learned clergy,
going forth against them, in the spirit of order and ortho
doxy, from the cool invigorating shade of private life *.
But let me not be misunderstood. When I say that
great raen should not be taken fiom their privacy, I
speak of great men indeed. The Church is, no doubt,
much benefited and adorned by a leamed prelacy.
The pastoral functions cannot well be discharged by
any other. But a genjus of the high order, here men
tioned, " is given by a gracious Providence, now and
then, in a course of ages, to correct, as Dr. Middleton
observed, the sentiments and riianncrs qf mankind.
Such a man as this, is lessened by elevation : he
is, in himself, methinks, too great to be advanced.
But be this, as it may; It must be aUowed that
religion and learning suffered somewhat by his promo
tion, as it interrupted those designs which he had
formed for the service of both, and would haye exe-.
cutcd, if his whole time had been at his comipand,
He himself lamented this inconvenience of his public
* Soon^fter I had hazarded this prediction, I had the.
,|>leasure to see one half of it completely fulfilled. See
Dr. Horsley's Charge to the Clergy of the Archdeaconry of
St. Alban's, and his unanswerable Letters, in vindication of
jt.-^This able Divine was deservedly advanced to the see
of St David's in 1788 ; and has since [1793] been
translated to that of Rochester ; — and this year [1 802]
to that of St. Asaph.. 4- r 4 station ;

72 LIFE OF
station ; and, after all, was not able (such was the root
his former habits of study had taken in him) to be so
active in It as he wished.
He performed the ordinary duties of his office with
regularity ; but further than this he could not prevaU
with hiniself to go. And perhaps, on the w.hole, it
was better that he did i)ot ; as the leisure he thus pro
cured to himself, was spent to more advantage in
defending Religion, than it could have been in a vain
endeavour to support that discipline, which the spirit
of the times has utterly overthrown.
They who stood at a distance from him, and knew
him only by the report of such as had no kindness for
him, concluded, at least, that he would take an active
part in the House of Lords. I have heard of a
certain- minister, who dreaded his prohiotion on this
account, and thought he saw a second Atterbury in
the new Bishop of Gloucester. But all' 'Such were
egreglously mistaken. Alas, he had neither talents,
nor IncUnation for parliamentary intrigue or parlia
mentary eloquence. He had other instruments pf
fame and consideration, in his hands, and was infinitely
,above the vanity of being caught
" With the fine notion of a busy man,''
as one of our poets * well expresses it.
On the 30th of January 1760, ten days after his
consecration, he preached the customary sernSm before
the Lords. I mention this only, because his sermon,
which of course was printed. Is one of the best he ever
wrote, and the best,, without question, that ever was
preached on that day. It could not be any other,
since, besides his great abilities, as a writer, he pos-
* Dryden. sessed

THE AUTHOR. 73
sessed a perfect knowiedge of our history, and of that
period of It in particular. I have heard him say,
there was scarce a pamphlet or memoir, pubUshed
between 1640 and 1660, which he had not read.
.^This predUection for the history of the rebellion,
seems to have been occasioned by a circumstance
just touched by me in the entrance of this discourse.
I observed that his grandfather had been active In that
scene. His grandmother, a woman of sense and
spirit, lived to a great age, and would often (as I
have heard him say) take a pleasure to relate to him,
when a boy, such passages of those times as she
remembered and was well acquainted with. This
taste of those transactions, made interesting to him by
the part which his family had taken in them, raised an
eager curiosity in him, as he grew up, to know more of
the subject. And thus, he not only acquired an early
insight into that part of our history, but continued
through life to be so fond of ft, that he had thoughts,
at one time, of writing the history of the civil wars ;
and would without doubt have done it with suprecpe
abiUty, and, as the tenour of his sermon shews,
with equal candour, if the studies of his own pro
fession had left him at leisure to engage in so great
a work. Lord Clarendon was one of liis favourite characters,
jas well as writers ; he honoured the raan, and admired
his history of the Grand Rebellion In the highest
degree. Yet there Is a copy of that work, now
extant and in the hands of his family, in w'hich he
has entered marginal notes containing so minute a
censure of all that is blanieable in it, that a stranger
whp had heard nothing of his predilection for Lord
Clarendon, would be apt to think him an enemy to
4- F 5 the

1-4 LIFE OF
tiie noble person's writings and reputation. With
such wonderful impartiality is the censure made * 1
Another instance of his skUl In the story of those
times, and of his fairness in representing it, may be
mentioned. Wiien he was one summer in residence at
Durham, he found Neafs History of the Puritans in
fceir library, and for his amusement took it with him
to his own house, and scribbled enough upon the mar
gins of tke several volumes (I use his own words in a
letter to me), to erpose and confute the mistakes and
niisrepresentatiom of tite writer. By the favour of a
friend, I have obtained a correct copy of those notes,
and beUeve the reader will agree with me, that they
deserve a place in tills complete colleotion of his
fvorks f.
To put things of a sort together, I will here men
tion another book, which he has rendered valuable
by some manuscript animadversions. Writing to me
from Weymouth, where Mr. Allei^ had a house, and
¦««here he generally passed some part of the year with
his family, he tcUs me hpw his hours of leisure were
employed at that place. The letter is dated Sept. 3,
1 758. " If you were here, you would see how I have
" scribbled over the margins of Tindal's Christianity
*' as Old as the Creation. I tiiink I have him as sure
** as I had Collins. That is, I overturn the pillars
" of this famous edifice of impiety : which all the
?• writers against him hitherto have left standing*^;
** busying themselves only to untile his roof Thia

»

Since I wrote this paragraph, the valuable copy,
aJluded to, of Lord Clarendon's History, has been very
cbligingly put into my hands, to be preserved in Hartley*
bury Library.
t See Vol. Xn.

THE AUTHOR. 75
** is my present amusement for a fortnight at Wey-
" mouth*."The Bishoprick of Gloucester was the more agree
able to him (as the Deanery of Bristol had been for the
same reason) on account of its situation, being in the
neighbourhood of Prior-Park. At so small a distance
from his diocese, he could perform the duties of it
without much trouble, or loss of time in journeys,
which were always irksome to him. Yet sorae raonths
in the suraraer he usually passed at Gloucester, and
resided there altogether after Mrs. Allen's death.
Wherever he was, he chiefly eraployed himself in re
vising his printed works, with the view of making them
as complete and useful as he could.
Among others, he spent some time on his Sermons ;
and in 1761 he reprinted one of them, which he took
to be of importance, in a small size, that it might be
more known, than it was likely to be in the larger
volume. This was a well-considered and elaborate
discourse on Tke Lord's Supper f : a subject, which
ir^?t been so embroiled by two eminent writers of op
posite principles, that it became necessary to take it
out of their hands, and to guard the public from being
bewildered and raisled, either by a Popish or Soci
nian coraraent. In a raoderate compass (for he never
dealt in the verbiage of ordinary writers) he has re
futed the system of either party, and explained his
own notion of the sacrament (which was, also, that of
the great Cudworth) In so clear a manner, that few
men of sense and judgement will no-w question where
the truth lies.
* This book is also in my possession, and will be found in
the Librai-y at Hartlebury.
t See Vol. IX. of this Edit. But

76 L I F E O F
But the good Bishop was always meditating some
thing for the benefit of religion. What is caUed Metho-
dism, had now spread among the people. It was a
new^ species of Puritanism, or rather the old one re
vived under a new name. This sect first appeared
at Oxford, where two fellows of colleges, Mr. George
Whitefield and Mr. John Wesley, were its chief pro
moters and supports. They were both of them, it may
be, frank enthusiasts at setting out. The former is
said to have been a weak,, the latter was unquestionably
a shrewd, man.
INIr. Wesley had rambled through a part of Germany
and North America, as well as Great Britain and
Ireland, pretending every where to a sort of Apostolic
mission : and, at a convenient distance of tipie from
these peregrinations,, his manner was to print journals
of them, for the edification ! of his followers. The
Bishop of Gloucester had watched his raotions with
care for sorae years ; and now thought he had gainied
such an insight into his views and character from his
journals, which he constantiy read, as to be able%
give a fair and full account of hira to the public.
It seems to have been principally for this reason that
he altered and enlarged what he had written on the
influence of the Holy Spirit, in the second volume of
his Sermons : or rather, he composed that discourse
anew, and with many improvements moulded it intp
a regular treatise on the subject; which he pubUshed
in 1762, under the name of The Doctrine of Grace:
or. The Office and Operations ofthe Holy Spirit. vindi'
cated from tke' insults of Infidelity, and the abuses qf
Fanaticism; in two smaU volumes, i2mo*.
* See Vol. VIII. pf this Edition,
He

THE AUTHOR. 77
He designed this work, as the title shews, for a vin
dication of that most important Christian doctiine
from the abuses of libertine as well as fanatical writers.
The former he confuted with his usual energy and pre
cision. The latter, as not being accessible on the side
of reason, he attacked with ridicule, in holding up to
view and exposing their leader and archetype, Joha
Wesley, out of the materials, largely furnished to him
in that adventurer's own journals. This discourse,
like Pascal's Letters, and for the same reason, the sin
gular merit of the composition, will be read, when the
sect, that gave occasion to it. Is forgotten; or rather the
«ect will find a sort of immortality In this discourse.
As to the grave and reasoning part of this work«
that also, as I said, is written with great weight and
authority. But 1 think I see a degree of labour, ia
the expression ofsome parts, which shews his pen had
now lost sometiiing of its wonted freedom and facUity,
though it retained its force.
From this time, he seems to have planned no new
work of difliculty and length, but to have confined
hiraself v^ properly to the single purpose of giving
the last finishing * to his former writings.
Accordingly in 1765 he published a new edition of
the Second Part of the D. L. in three volumes ; and,
* The Bishop grew very exact and critical in giving tbe
later editions of his works ; so that ire would review the
same sheet several times, and, of course, gave the compo
sitor no small trouble. Which made his learned printer,
Mr. Bowyer, whom he much esteemed for his friendly qua
lities, as well as merit in his profession, say pleasantly to him
on a certain occasion — ' Those were fine times, when you
never blotted a line, but allowed me to print your copy as
fast as it came to band, and without interruption,' as

Tf? LIFE OT
as it had now received his last hand, he presented it to
his great friend. Lord Mansfield ; as he had done the
former part, when finished to his mind, to Lord Hard
wicke. But there was this difference in the character
of the two Dedications. That to the Lord Chan
cellor, was respectful and ceremonious, being little
more than a letter of thanks to his patron : this other
to the Chief Justice, was sublime and pathetic, in
short, the overflowing of an affectionate heart to a
generous and much-esteemed friend.
The subject, too, of the latter is of that high im
portance which a great writer chuses, when he would
consult his own and his friend's dignity, and transmit
them both, with advantage, to succeeding times. It
sets before him the state of religion in England for
half a century past, and, with a confidential freedom,
deduces the causes of that alarming neglect, into which
it had faUen, and by which indeed the author had been
induced to project this defence of it, and to put it
into his Lordship's hands. The information is inte
resting; and the manner in which it is conveyed,
soleran and awful. It will be read hereafter with no
small attention ; and the time will come, when this
discourse wIH be reckoned among the chief honours of
the noble person addressed.
This edition of 1765, besides raany other Improve-k
ments, with which it was enriched, is further distin
guished by a remarkable discourse, printed at the close
of the last volume, and entitled An appendix con
cerning the book of Job *. In this short piece (which,
is exquisitely wiitten) he repels an attack raade upon
him by Dr. Lowth. The dispute was raanaged, on
both sides, with too much heat ; but, on the part of
* See Vol. VI. of this Edit. the

THE AUTHOR. jg
the Bishop, with that superiority of wit and argument,
which, to say the truth, in all his controversial writings,
he could not well help. For it may, I believe, be as
truly said of him, as it was of Carneades, — That he
never defended an opinion which he did not prove, nor
opposed any, which he did not coif ute *.
Dr. Lowth, afterwards Bishop of London, was a
man of learning, and ingenuity, and of many virtues :
but his friends did his character no service, by affecting
to bring his merits, whatever they were, into compe-?
tition with those of the Bishop of Gloucester, His
reputation as a writer, was raised chiefly on his Hebrew
literature, as displayed in those two works f — his Latin
Lectures on Hebrezo Poetry — and kis English Version
ofthe Prophet Isaiah. The former is well and ele
gantly composed, but in a vein of criticism not above
the common : The latter, I think, is chiefly valuable,
as it shews how little is to be expected frora Dr. Keur
nicott's work, (which yet the learned Bishop pronounces
¦ to be the greatest and rriost important, that has been
undertaken and accmnplisked since tke revival of
* Qui nuUam unquam, in iUis suis disputationibus, ren^
defendit, quam non probarit ; nuUam oppugnavit quam non
(Everterit. Cic. de Or. 1. ii. c. 38.
t In saying this, I speak the sense of those who rate his
J;alent§ at tbe highest, and would be tliought to do most
bonour to his literary character. For myself, I confess I
have always considered a juvenile essay of the excellent
person, I mean a poem published by him under the name
of The Judgment of Hercules, as the best specimen
pf his taste and genius, and one that gave the promise of
gi'eater things, than he ever perfornied aftenvards.
t- F 8 letters)

§d LIFE OF
letters *), and from a new translation of the Bible, fo^
pubUc use;
On the subject of his quarrel with the Bishop of
Gloucester, I could say a great deal ; for I was weU
acquainted with the grounds and the grogress of it
But, besides that I purposely avoid entering Into de
taUs of tills sort, I know of no good end that Is Ukely
to be answered by exposing to public censure the
weaknesses of such men.-
In the next year, 1766, he gave a new and much-
improved edition of The Alliance ; meaning to leave
these two great w-orks, now wrought up to all the
perfection he could bestow upon them, as legacies to:
the public ; or rather as monuments to posterity of his
unwearied love of the Christian reUgion, and (for the
sake of so dear an interest) ofthe Church of England.
With a third volume of Sermons, already alluded to,
and printed In 1767, he closed his literary course:
except that he made an effort towards pubUshing the
IXth and last book ofthe Divine Legation; on a
subject, he had much at heart; which he had long
and diligently considered ; and which now, for Some
years, he had been labouring to digest and explain
in the best manner he could. But of this matter it
¦will be expected that I give the reader a more par-*
ticular account.
The argument of the D. L. properly so called, vcas
completed in six books : but tlie plan of it required
three more; In which the author proposed, as he tells us,
" To remove all conceivable objections against the
" conclusion, and to throw in every collateral Ught
" upon the premises." * Prel Diss. p. 62, But

THE AUTHOR. ^i
Bat the arguraent itself was so III received and so
¦violently opposed by many of the clergy, that he grew
•disgusted at tlie treatment he met with, and could not
he prevailed upon to finish his design in support of it.
His letters are full of complaints on this head. In 1 741,
¦some tirae before he puhlished tiie second volume, he
says to one of his friends — " I am still condemned to
*' drudge in tlie miraes of antiquity. I may well give
*' it that slavish appeUation, while I am so used by my
*' raasters, the clergy, for whose ease and profit I am
"*' working," And writing to another in 1 754, when
the two first liters of the View were coming out, he
observes with Indignation — " You will see thei'e is a
¦" continued apology for the clergy 4 yet they will
*' neither love me the more, nor forgive me the sooner,
" for all I can say in their behalf *.'"
And so on a hundred other occasions. The truth
is, his resentment at the estabUshed clej--gy for their
long and fierce opposition to his favourite work, was
the greatest weakness I ever observed in him. Th^
number ©f books and pamphlets, that appeared against
hira for tweatty years together, was, indeed, very great.
But, the nature of his work considered, and his own
freedom in dissgiting from all others, as occasion
offered, what less could fee expected? And when he
had given two or 4hree of his principal adversaries, as
he did, a complete answer, he should not have suf
fered the clamour of the rest to divert him from the
great design he had projected. But bis conduct in
this instance was not that which ^ight have been ex
pected from his usual magnanimity. Wben I some
times expostulated with him upon it, his answer was —
* MS. Letta-s in my hands.
Vot- L G •" I surely

8a LIFE OF
" I surely have reason to think myself very ill used.
" The enemies of Revealed Religion and of the
" Church of England I have treated as they deserved,
" and am neither surprized nor hurt at their resent-
" ments against me. To their censures or com-
" mendations I can be equally indifferent. But that
" my brethren the established clergy, the friends of
*' religion, and feUow-merabers of that society whose
" cause I am pleading, that these should set them-
" selves against me with so much rancour, is what I
" cannot so well bear. If indeed the published volumes
" of the D. L. be so weak or so mischievous, as they
" suppose, I wUl not add to the offence given them
" by adding any more."
One sees what was at the bottom of the good man's
mind. He loved the Church of England and its
ministers, and had shewn his zeal for thera on all occa
sions. He was therefore hurt at not receiving that
return of good-will from them, which his life and con
science told him, he might expect, and had deserved,
Yet, as rauch as he felt the injury, and complained of
it, he was never moved by it (as many others, with less
provocation, and of less irritabUity, have been) to
retract his good, opinion of them, or to alter his con
duct towards them ina,ny respect.
He only withheld the sequel of his capital work
from thera ; and unhappily he persisted In this resolu
tion till time had softened their passions, and, of
course, his own.
At length, the orthodoxy of his sentiments seemed
gradually to be acknowledged ; his own resentments
proportionably abated; and, froni tha time he had,
givea

THE AUTHOR. 83
given the corrected edition of his D.L. in 1765, he
was in earnest about resuming so much at least, of
his long-neglected work, as he had meant to coraprize
in the last or IXth book. The Vlltii and Vlllth
(though the materials for them, too, were at hand) he
had long since despaired of composing : but this last,
being an attempt to give a Rationale of Christianity, he
aniriously wished, for the importance of the subject, to
leave behind him complete.
But the time was now past. Not only the business
of his station broke In upon his leisure : The Infirmities
of age came insensibly upon him. His faculties,
hitherto so bright and vigorous, suffered sorae eclipse
and dirainution of their force, from his growing indis
positions. " I read stUl," he would often say to me,
" with the usual pleasure. But I compose with less
" ease, and with less spirit." In a letter to rae from
Gloucester, Sept 4, 1769, he writes in the following
manner :
" I have received your Idnd letter of advice *.  '
" You know, by e:i^perience, how difficult It is, when'
" we have once got iqto a wicked habit of thinking,
" to leave it off. All I can promise is, if that will
" satisfy you, to think to no purpose : And this I
" know, by experience, I can do ; haying done so
" for many a good day.
" I think you have heard me say, that my delicious
" season is the autumn ; the season, which gives most
" Ufe and vigour to ray mental faculties. The light.
*' mjsts, or, as Milton caUs them, the steaans, that rise^
" from the fields in one of these mornlDgSy give th&
^ Not to pursije bis studies too closely,
G 2. '' sarao

84 LIFE OF
" same relief to the views, that the blue of the plum
" (to take my Ideas from the season) gives to the ap-
'« petite. But I now enjoy little of this pleasure,
" compared to what I formeriy had in an autumn-
" morning, when I used, with a book in my hand, to
" traverse the delightful lawns and hedgerows round
" about the town of Newark, the unthinking place of
" my nativity."
And again, July nth, 1770:—" Hunter sent me
" his View of Lord^ BoUngbrolie's character. Heis
" a aood man; but in this book, I think, he has-
" shewn himself very absurd and indiscreet; absurd,,,
" in a florid declamation ; and indiscreet, as well
" as very injudicious, in the most extravagant en-
" comlum of Bolingbroke's parts, that ever was,
" even to say — he reasoned with the pri^e of, a,
" superior spirit, and I h<id almost said with the
" faculties of an angel.
" This disposed me to look again into the reasoning
" of this superior spirit, tins angelic man, as I have
" collected together the best he has, in ray View of his .
" PhUosophy. I have done It justice. But this re-
" trospect Is accompanied with amortifying conviction,;
" that the time is now past when I was able to write
" with that force. Expect to find in my future
" writings the marks of Intellectual, decay. But so
" much for that matter."
In roy answer to this letter from. Thurcaston, July-
the 23d, to sooth the mind of my friend under this
unwelcome discovery, and to prevaU upon him, if I
could, to relax those efforts In composition, which, not
being so easy to him as they had been, might affect
his health and spirits, I wrote as foUo.ws : — " As to,'
10. "• what

THE AUTHOR. 85
*
" what you say of your not writing with the force^
" you formerly did, it may very \Vell be, and yet
"' be no subject of mortification. For, besides that
" you can afford to abate something of your antient
" force and yet have enough \&% force itself has not, iii
" all periods oflife, the sarae grace. The close of one
" of these long and bright days has not the flame
" and heat of noon, and would be less pleasing If it
" had. And I know not why it may not be true,
" in the critical as well as raoral sense of the poet's
" words, " Lenior et nielior fis accedente senect^."
" But what I would chiefly say, on the subject, is
" this. That, whether with force, or without it, I would
" only wish your future writings to be an arause-^
" raent to you, and not a labour ; and this I think is
" the proper use to be raade of your observation, if
" it be ever so well founded."
In short, I continued to express myself in this Way
to him and his family with so little reserve, that he
saw my intention was to draw him off, by degrees,
from writing at all ; which he takes notIc6 of in a
letter of the next year, June 2, 1771, though with
some little chagrin, as was but too natural j' at this
plain dealing.
" I never believed I should feel so tenderly for 
" as I now do. A suffering friend's good qualities,
" in such a condition, separate themselves, and rise
" superior to his failings, which we are insensibly dis-
" posed to forget. If this be the case of common
*' acquaintance, in certain seasons, what must be our
'• constant sentiments of a real friend, at all seasons ;
03 " who

86 LIFE OF
" who loses no occasion of expressing every mode
?' of tenderness towards those he loves! I fell into this
" train of thinking by what my wife told me, with
" much pleasure, a little before I left London. She
" said that Dr. Hurd assured her, that I would write
" no more. I received this news, which gave her so
" rauch satisfaction, with an approving smile. I was
" charmed with the tenderness of friendship which
" conveyed, in so inoffensive a manner, that fatal
" secret which GU Bias was Incapable of doing,
" as he ought, to his patron the Archbishop of
" Granada." I insert these extracts, chiefly in reference to the
IXth book of the D.L. which twenty years before
would have been finished in a few weeks, and with
that flame of genius which irradiates the former books,
but which now lay under his hands many years, was
written by snatches and with difficulty, and left incom
plete by him at last *. An unwelcome part tiiis
of the little history I am writing ! yet not unuseful,
if it may admonish superior writers to place a just con
fidence in themselves, and little ones to treat them with
something more respect. Cudworth and Warburton
are meraoriable and instructive instances, to either
purpose. * Yet it may be concluded from the subject, which is a
general view of God's moral dispensations fiom Adam to
Christ [See Vol. VI. Div. Leg. Book VI. Sect. vi. at the
end, and Book IX. at the beginning] that very little is
wanting to complete the author's design ; only, what he had
proposed to say on the apocalyptic prophecies', and which
may be supplied from the Discourse on Antichrist [See'
Vol. X. Discourse XXVIII.j The

THE AUTHOR. ^7
The misfortune, in the case of the latter, was, that
nlthough he had digested in his own mind, long ago,
the substance of the IXth book, and was perpetually
meditating upon it, yet he had committed very littie
of it to paper ; his way being to put down In writing
only short notes of what he intended to enlarge upon,
and to work them up only when he was preparing to
send his copy to the press. This, in his best days,
was so easy to him, that, in printing some of his ela
borate works, he had not in his hands two sheets
together, but sent the copy to his printer as fast as it
was composed.
I know indeed that many persons, from the compass
and variety of his learning, imagined that he drew the
materials of it fi'om a voluminous common-place.
The fact was just otherwise. His meraory was so
tenacious, that he trusted every thing to It : or, if he
may be said to have kept a common-place. It was
nothing more than a small Interleaved pocket-almanack,
of about three inches square ; In which he inserted
now and then a reference to a curious fact or passage,
that he met with in his readmg, but chiefly short hints
of sentiments and reflexions, which occasionaUy struck
hira, and might some time or other be put to use. At
the end of every year, he tore out of his alraanack
such leaves as contained any of those reflexions, and
put thera together under general heads, that he raight
recur to thera, on occasion, the more readily. Of
these papers, or rather collections of papers, I have
many in my hands, relative to the subjects of the three
last books of the D. L. ; and from these the IXth
book, such as he left it, was composed.
Another inconvenience, attending the late compo
rt 4 sition

8S LIFE OF
sition of this book, was. That he had occasionaUy
delivered, in his sermons, and other printed works,
some of the leading principles contained in It. Thus,
he had, in effect, anticipated a good part of his subject.
Nor was this all. Finding the labour of composing
troublesome to him, he quoted from himself very
freely ; and sucb passages, as had found a place else
where, when the purpose of completing the last book
was suspended or laid aside,, were now Inserted in it,
without much alteration, in order to carry on the thread
and oi'der of his discourse.
From both these causes therefore (his not having.
reduced to form the materials he had provided for the
IXth book, and his having already worked up some
part of them) It is easy to see the disadvantage with
vvhich he came, in the close of his long life, to the
composition of this work. His memory and invention
were not wiiat tbey had been ; his faciUty and variety
of expression was not the same ; and, what was worst
of all, the grace of novelty in the subject was in some
measure gone off.
It vvas therefore matter of deliberation with me, for
some time, whether I should insert the IXth book
(though printed, so far as it. goes, by himself) entire
and In its own fonn, or only some fragments ofit But,
on further consideration, I judged it right to give that :
work exactiy as the author left It :. especially, as the,
subject is highly interesting, and even new, unlesa-
where anticipated by himself; the method, clear and
exact ; and the whole cast of composition, masterly ;
his reasonings being carried on, if not with the. splendid.
ease and perspicuity of his best manner, yet with, a
force and spirit, botii in the sentiraent and expression, which

THE AUTHOR. 89
which may well excite our admiration, when the cir
cumstances, under vvhich he wrote, are considered.
In a word, this IXth book of the D. L. under all
the disadvantages with which it appears, is the noblest
effort that has hitherto been made to give a Rationale
of Christianity. How far it may satisfy those who have
so long and so loudly called for it, will be now seen :
without doubt, no farther, than as it may agree (if, in
any respects, it should agree) with their reason. In
the mean tirae, the hivestigation is made with the best
design — *' To justify the ways of God to man ;"
^nd, let me add, in a way that entitles it to another sort
of regard, than is due to theories, constructed, as they
usually are, on fanciful suppositions, and arbitrary,
assumptions : since every thing, here, is advanced on
the sure grounds of natural and revealed reUgion : the
one, estiraated by the purest reason ; the other, inter
preted with an awful reverence of the written word,
and according to the rules of the soundest and soberest
criticism. While the good Bishop was thus exerting his last
strength in the cause of religion, he projected a method
by which he hoped to render it eft'ectual service after
his death. This was by the institution of a Lecture
on Prophecy ; a subject, which he conceived had not
heen considered with the care It ought ; and frora a
thorough discussion of which, he assured hiraself, much ,
additional force would arise to the proof of the Chris
tian religion. He had himself opened a way to, the
successful investigation of the general subject, in some
principles delivered intheD.L., and in his confutation of

$0 LIFE OF
of CoUins's book by means of those principles. But
some particular prophecies had struck his attention,
as furnishing the most decisive argument for the truth
of Christianity. In the preface to his Remarks, Part II.
printed so long ago as 1 745, he says— "^ I have ever
" thought, the prophecies relating to Antichrist, inter-
" spersed up and down the New and Old Testament,
" the raost convincing proof of the truth of the
^" Christian religion, that any moral matter is, capable
" of receiving." And again—" This question (namely,
" what individual power is meant in the prophecies)
" is one, on the right determination of which alone,
" Lam fully persuaded, one might rest the whole truth
" of the Christian religion *."
Under this persuasion then in 1 768 he gave {,. 500.
in trust to Lord Mansfield, Su: Eardley Wilmot, and
Mr. Charies Yorke, for the purpose of founding, a
Lecture at Lincoln's-Inn, In the form of a sermon,
' To prove th^ truth of revealed religion in genera),
and of the Christian in particular, from the comple
tion of the prophecies in the Old and New Testament,
which relate to the Christian Church, especially to the
apostacy of Papal Rome.'
The subject is infinitely curious, and of vast extent :
for those who have taken it to be too much narrowed
by specifying the prophecies conceming Antichrist,
seem not to have understood the compass of the con
troversy, nor the terms of the institution itself. The
truth is, there is more danger that Lecturers will be
wanting to the institution, than that it will not afford
matter and scope enough for their discussion. He
* See Vol. XI. of this edit. " Remarks on several occa*
siooal Reflections," &c. Part II. Pref,
wai

THE AUTHOR. 91
>vas anxious to leave this important trust in the best
hands. And while it continues in such as have had
tiie management of it> there is no doubt that the best
supply, which the age furnishes, will be provided for
this lecture. And, if I had not myself preached the,
first course of these serraons, I should add that,
hitherto, their choice of lecturers has afforded no
signal cause of coraplaint.
It was afterwards in the Bishop's contemplation to
double the original endowment. But he was diverted
frora this design (though with sorae difficulty) by those
who represented to him, that the sum given was suf
ficient to answer his purpose of engaging men of
ability to read his lecture if they were influenced by
such motives as became them, a regard for their own
honour and a zeal for the service of religion ; and that
more could answer no good purpose, nay might easily
be abused to bad ones. If they were not.
The last years of the Bishop's life were clouded
¦with misfortune, as well as indisposition. He had for
some tirae been so sensible of his decUning health, that
he read little, and wrote less. But, in the course of
the year 1775, the loss of a favourite son and only
child *, who died of a consumption in his aoth year,
when
* He had been placed, much to bis father's satisfaction,
under the care of Dr. Halieax ; then an eminent tutor
of Trinity Hall at Cambridge, and tbe King's professor
of law in that university ; who in 1782 was advanced to
the see of Gloucester, and translated in 1789 to that of
St. Asaph. He died March 4, 1790. — His distinguished
worth and abUity deservedly raised bim to the high rank
he held in the Church. — But his character is given more Jit

52 LIFE OF
when every hope was springing Up in the breast of A
fond parent, to make amends, as it were, for his want
of actual enjoyment — this sudden affliction, I say,
oppressed him to that degree, as to put an end to his
literary labours, and even arauseraents, at once. From
that disastrous raoraent, he lived on indeed for two or
three
at large in the foUowing elegant inscription, composed by
his father-in-law, the Reverend Dr. WiUiam Cooke, dean
of Ely, and provost of King's CoUege, Cambridge, and
eno-raved on his monument in tbe church of Warsop, in
Nottinghamshire ; of which church the bishop was rector,
and in which, for the reason assigned in the two first linei
of the inscription, he was buried.
Hie juxta filiolum dulcissimum acerbo olim fato
Praereptum paternas exuvias deponi voluit vir
teverendissimus Samuel Halifax ll.d. & s.t.p
Ex hac vicinia oriundus primisque Uteris imbutus in
academia protenus Cantabrigiensi floruit juris civilis
prelector publicus & professor regius in curi& praerogativSl.
Cantuariensi facultatum registrarius in hac ecclesia
rector in ecclesia cathedrali Glocestriensi primb deinde
Asapbensi episcopus quse per omnia ofUcia ingenio claruit
& eruditione & industria singulari summa in ecclesiam,
Anglicanam fide concionum vi ac suavitate flexanima
Scriptorum nitore &. elegantia vitS. insuper id quod primarium
sibi semper habuit inculpabili
Natus' est apud Mansfield Jan 18, 1733, calculo oppressua
properata morte obiitMaitii 4, 1790, setatis ebeu57.
Catharina conjux cum filio unico & sex filiabus superstes"
relicta in aliquod desiderii sui solamen moerens P.

THE AUTHOR. 93
three years ; but, when he had settied his affairs, as
was proper, upon this great change in his family, he
took no concern in the ordinary occurrences of life,
and grew so indifferent to every thing, that even his
books and writings seemed,' thenceforth, to be utterly
disregarded by him.
Not that his memory and faculties, though very
much impaired, were ever wholly disabled. I saw
him so late as October 177S, when I went into
his diocese to confirm for him. On our first meet
ing, before his family, he expressed his concern that I
should take that journey, and put myself to so much
trouble, on his account. And afterwards, he took
occasion to say some pertinent and obliging things,
which shewed, not only hi* usual friendliness of
temper, but the command he had of his attention.
Nor was this all. The evening, before I left him, he
desired the family to withdraw, and then entered into
a confidential discourse with me on some private
affairs which he had much at heart, with as much
pertinence and good sense, as he could have done in
any former part of his life. Such was the power he
had over his mind, w hen roused to exert himself by
some interesting occasion ! But this was an effort,.
which could not be sustained very long. In less than
half an hour, the family returned, and he relapsed into
his usual forgetfulness and inattention.
In this melancholy state he languished tUl the sum
mer foUowing, ^vhen he expired at the Palace in
Gloucester, on the 7th of June 1779, ^"d ^^^s buried
in his cathedral, at no great distance from the West
door, and near to. the grave of one ofhis predecessors,
^Plshop Benson., A neat

94 LIFE OF
A neat mural monument has been put up there to
his memory, witii the foUowmg inscription :
TO THE MEMORY OF
WILLIAM WARBURTON, D.D.
rOR MORE THAN 19 YEARS
BISHOP OF THIS SEE :
A PRELATE or THE
MOST SUBLIME GENIUS, AND EXQUISITE LEARNING »
BOTH WHICH TALENTS
HE EMPLOYED, THROUGH A LONG LIFE,
IN THE SUPPORT
OF ¦WHAT HE FIRMLY BELIE^\rED,,
THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION,
AnIX of vraAT HE ESTEEMEHf
THE BEST ESTABLISHMENT OF IT,
THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.

iv:ix

THE AUTHOR.

95

IV-
IT only remains for me to draw together the several
parts of the Bishop's cliaracter, and to present them to
the reader in one view ; w hich I shall now atterapt,^
with the affection of a friend, no doubt, yet on the
whole, with as much severity as I ought. For I re
member the wise and humane reflexion of the great
biographer, who in his life of Cimon expresseth him
self to this purpose : " When a painter undertakes to
give us the portrait of a beautiful person, If there be
any smaller bleraishes in his subject, we do not
expect hira to orait them altogether ; for then the
picture would be unlike : nor to express them with
too much care ; for then it becoraes disgusting.
" In like manner, it being difficult, or rather im
possible, to find a faiiltiess character, the writer of a
great raan's life will lay himself out in delineating^
his good qualities, and not dwell with pleasure,
or an anxious diligence, on his foibles ; out of a
respectfiil tenderness to human nature, which un
happily is not capable of attaining absolute per
fection *."
And with this little apology for myself, I proceed to
give the outUne of ray friend's character.
HE possessed those virtues, which are so important
in so.^iety, Truth, Probity, and Honour, In the highest
degree ; with a frankness of temper very uncommon ;
and a friendUness to those he loved and esteemed,
vbich knew no bounds : -not suspicious or captious^
* Plutarch. Cimon. sub init* iiK

p6 LIFE OF
in the least ; quick, indeed, in his resentment of real
manifest injuries ; but then again (as is natural to such
tempers) of the utmost placabUIty.
He had an ardent love of Virtue, and the most
sincere zeal for Religion ; and that, the freest from ali
bigotry and aU fanaticism, that I have ever known.
He venerated the civil constitution of his country, and
vvas warmly attached to the Church of England. Yet
he was no party-man, and was the sincerest advocate
for toleration. It was not his manner to court the
good opinion of our Dissenters. But he had nothing
of prejudice or ill-will towards them : he Conversed
famUiarly with such of thera as carae in his way ; and
had even a friendship with some of their more noted
ministers * ; who did not then glory in Socinian im
pieties, or indulge themselves in rancorous invectives
«gainst the Established Church.
I know, indeed, that he spoke his sense of men and
things, occasionally, with force, which In the language
of some pei^ons will be termed bigotry. And the truth
is, he never indulged his candour so far as to treat all
opinions and all characters alike. On the contrary, he
held prophane and Ucentious writers, to be fit objects
of public reproof; and though civil penalties should
not be applied to the coercion of mistaken, or even, to
a certain degree, of hurtful opinions, yet literary chas
tisement, he thought, should ; an equal acceptance of
nil being the ready way to introduce Scepticism, under
the specious name of Liberality, or rather irreligion
itself, under the mask of cliarity. And if this zeal
* See a Cvliection of tiellers fo and from Dr. Doddridgti
tf Niifthampton \ pubhshed by T. Stedman, M.A. vicar of
St. Chad's, Shrewsbury, 1 790. may

THE AUTHOR. 97
may be abused, as without doubt every thing may, at
most, he had only to answer for that abuse : The use
itself being surely unquestionable, if there be trtith
or meaning in the Apostle's aphorism, " That it is
" always good to be zealously affected in a good
" matter." But the reader, if he thinks fit, may see
his ovra vindication of himself in the Apology for his
View of Lord Bolingbroke's Philosophy.
Indeed his conduct had been always uniform, in this
respect. Even in the year 1738, when the first volume
of the D. L. was pubUshed, he makes a full and frank
declaration of his character. For, in his Dedication
to the Free-Thinkers, speaking of the advantage he
should have, in that address, of not being called upon
to disgrace himself, or them, by a style of adulation,
he goes on thus — " Not but I must own you have been
" managed, even by some of our Order, with very
" singular complaisance. Whether it was that they
" affected the fame of moderation, or had a higher
" ambition for the honour of your good word, I know
" not; but I, who neither love your cause,, nor fear
" the abUities that support It, w bile I preserve for your
" persons that justice and charity which my profession
" teaches to be due to all, can never be brought to
". think otherwise of your character, than as the de-
" spisers of the Master, wiiom I serve, and as the
•' implacable enemies of that Order, to which I have
" the honour to belona;. And as such, I should be
" tempted to glory in your censures; but would
" certainly refuse your commendations."
Such were his early, as well as late notions, of can
dour. They who affect to push them still farther, may
do weU to refiect, whether they be their own dupes, or
the dupes of others : I mean, whether they have Indeed
Vol. I, H any

98 L I F E O F
any principle themselves ; or can be content to serve
the views of those, whose interest it is, that men of
pryiclple speak and act, as if they had not any.
His love of letters was extreme, and his disposition
fco countenance all those in whom he perceived any
kind or degree of literary merit, the most prompt and
generous ; as appeared by his incessant recommen
dation of them to his great friends, when his own
scanty patronage (as he would oft and vehemently
complain) denied him the means of rendering them
any service himself.
If we consider him as aWftiTER, and a Divine, itis
not easy to find terms that will do justice to his merit.
His reading was various and extensive; and his
discernment exquisite. He saw and seized what was
just and useful in every science which he cultivated^
and in every book he read. The lumber and the;
refuse he shook off, and left to others. Perhaps, no
learned writer ever dealt less in ordinary quotation.
Even the more familiar passages, unless when cited by
him as direct authorities, take an air and turn in his
application of them, which makes them in a manner
nevv. The same observation may be extended to his
reasonings ; which are either purely his own, or ap'
pear to be so, by his management of them. So that
it seems a natural question which one * of his friends
put to him, on the receipt of a volume of his sermons
— how do you manage always to say stymething nm
upon old subjects, and always in an original manner ?,
To say aU In a word, he possessed, In an eminent
degree, those two qualities of a great writer, sapere
£T FAiii; I mean, superior sense, and the power
of doing justice to it by a sound and manly eloquence.
* Mr. C. Yorke, in one of his letters, Feb. 2, 1 767. It

THEAUTHOR. gg
It was an ignorant cavil, that charged him with a want
of taste. The objection arose from the originality of
his manner ; but he wrote, when he thought fit, with
the greatest purity and even elegance, notwithstanding
his strength and energy, which frequently exclude those
qualities *.
The character of his style, is freedom and force
united. As tiiat of the style, now In vogue,. Is effort
without either. Nobody understood the philosophy of
grammar better ; yet in the construction of his terms he
was not nice, rather he was somewhat nealigent. But
¦* o o
this negligence has no III effect In works of reasoning,
and of length ; where the writer's mind is Intent on
the matter, and where a certain degree of irregularity
gives tiie appearance of ease and spiiit.
In his use of the terms themselves, especially of
what are called mia:t modes, and in the nice adjustment
of the predicate to the subject (In which the accuracy
of style chiefly consists) he was of all writers the most
scrupulously exact. It was by this secret in his ex
pression (so far as it depended on art and design) that
he is never stiff or languid In his style, but every where
free and nervous. It never flattens upon you, not
bemg over-laboured In the phrase, or too general in
the terms. There is the, appearance of freedom, with
the utmost energy and precision.
For the rest, the higher exceUencies of his style
were owing to the strength of his iraagination, and a
clear conception of his subject ; in other words, to his
sublime genius.
* Mr. Pope gives the true character of him, as a writer,
where be says, that " he had a genius equal to his pains, and
a taste equal to his learning." Works, Vol. X. p. 29I.
Ed. i2mo. 1754. L. CXIH. II 2 Thu3

100

LIFE OF
Thus bis style was properly bis own, and what we
caU original Yet he did not disdain to draw what
assistance be might from the best critics ; among whora
€iuinctilian was bis favourite.
By this union of art and nature, he succeeded,
of course, in all sorts of composition. But in one,
especiaUy, the Controversial, he was so much
superior to himself, that barely to say he excelled in it,
would be a poor and scanty praise.
From his first entrance on theological studies, he
had applied himself with care to the reading of our
best writers in controversy, such as Hooker, Chilling-
worth, and Locke ; of whom he was so fond, that he
had their works bound up in small detached pieces,
for the convenience of carrying thera with hira in his ,
hand or pocket, when he travelled, or walked abroad
by himself. Ofthese, I have several In ray possession,
which appear to have been rauch used. It is no
wonder, he should have this taste ; for, besides that
controversy was then in vogue, he disdained to oppose
the enemies of religion in any other way, than that
of logical confutation ; and against those, to use his
own words in a letter to me, he kad denounced eternal
war, like Hannibal against Rome, at tke altar.
Thus disciplined, he came with advantage to the use
of his arms, -when he found himself obliged, as he soon
was, to take them up. Use and habit did the rest,.
So that he became consuramate in this mode of writing,
and at the same time original. For to the authoritjt
of Hooker, the acuteness of Chillingworth, and the
perspicuity of Locke, he added more than aU their
leaming ; together with a force of style, and poignancy
of wit, of which we had hitherto seen no example in
theological controversy.
* With

THE AUTHOR. loi
With tiiese talents and qualifications, he was the
terror of the infidel world, whUe he lived, and will be
their disgrace to future ages. His sublirae reason,
aided by his irresistible wit, drove thera fi-oni their old
fastnesses of logick and philosophy, and has forced
them to take shelter in the thin cover of history and
romance ; w hence we now see them shoot their arrows,
dipt in irony and badinage ; to the annoyance Indeed
of some witless passengers ; but to the wary and well-
appointed, who take a fancy to ramble into those paths,
perfectly harmless and insignificant.
But, when I raentioned his making war on our fi-ee-
thinking philosophers, let me be understood te mean,
not the minute, and plebeian, but the more consider
able, and, as one may say, sizeable men of that party ;
such as pretended to erudition ; and reasoned at least,
-though weakly or perversely. For, as to those insect-
blasphemers, of whatever condition, which the fashion,
rather than the phUosophy of the age has generated,
and sent forth in swarms over a great part of modern
Europe, he regarded them but as the summer flies,
which tease a littie by their murmurings (for stings, he
would say, they have none) and are easily brushed
away by any hand, or vanish of themselves.
Next to infidels professed, there was no set of wri
ters he treated with less ceremony, than the Socinian ;
in whom he saw an immoderate presumption, and
suspected not a little ill faith. For, professing to
beUeve the divine authority of the Scriptures, they take
a licence in explaining them, which could hardly, he
thought, consist with that belief To these free Inter
preters of the word, he was ready to say, as St. Austin
did to their precursors, the Manichfeans — " Tell us
plainly, that ye do not at all believe the Gospel of
H 3 Christ:

loz LIFE OF
Christ: for ye who believe what ye will in the Gospel,
and disbelieve what ye will, assuredly believe not the
Gospel itself but yourselves only*."
It is true, he himself would reason on revealed truths
farther than to some may seem necessary ; but he
never reasoned against them. It was his principle,
and his practice, to follow the Apostolic rule of casting
down all imaginations, that exalt themselves against-
the knowledge ofGod']' : " which, when clearly revealed, >
bp held It an extreme Impiety in any Christian, not only
to question directly, but to elude by any forced inter
pretation. In short, he regarded Socinianism (the idol
of our self-admiring age) as a sort of infidelity in dis.
guise, and as such he gave it no quarter.
Other religionists he would confute, as occasion
offered, with his usual vivacity : but he made allow
ance for their prejudices, and, when no malevolence
intervened, treated their persons with respect. But
enough, you say, of his controversial merits : let us
hear something of his defects.
"¦ He was arrogant, and impatient of contradiction."
It Is true, he knew his own strength, and confided
epough in it. But then, as that quality made him
incapable of envying his opponents, it should have
made him careless of being censured by them. Still,
it must be owned, that he had the comraon infirmity
of being better satisfied with such as adopted his
opinions, than with those who rejected them. I say
the common infirmity ; for, I doubt, it adheres to our
* " Apert^ dicite non vos credere Christi Evangelio:
f' nam qui in Evanglelio quod vultis creditis, quod vultis non
'' creditis, vobis potius quam Evangelio creditis." Contr.
Faust- L- 37. c. 3.
t 3 Cor.x. 5. yery

THE AUTHOR. 103
very nature, and that we shall in vain seek for a man
dispassionate enough to be Indifferent to contradiction ;
especially, when direct, and public ; and urged, too,
with sorae degree of eagerness, or rather sharpness,
which is scarcely separable from controversy.
" But he was violent in his resentments, and
excessively severe in his expression of them." — ^As to
this charge, hear, first, his own apology for himself —
" The paper I send you *, Is the Introductory note
" to  . I need not explain it to you. You will
" understand every word. What I want to know is,
" w hether some parts of it be not too severe. What-
" ever there Is of this kind, I shall gladly strike out.
" For though I have had provocation enough, I can
" assure you, I have no resentments. I perhaps may
" not be thought the best judge of my own teraper in
" this matter, and reasonably. But why I say I have
" so little resentment, I collect from hence, that there
" is not one word in this volume against them [his
" adversaries], which I could not with the greatest
" Indifference strike out, either with reason or without.
" I do not expect the world should do me this justice,
" because they are to judge by appearances ; and
" appearances are against me ; for there are caustic
" strokes enough against the ignorance and ill faith
" of ray adversaries. But, if this be resentment, it
" is the resentment I should shew in the case of any
" other honest man."
His resentment then was impartial': and that it was
so, he shewed in his vindication of Mr. Pope, and In
other instances. But I take upon me to go farther,
. and to assert, that the severity objected to him, was the
* In a Letter to me, Jan. 18, 1757.
H 4 effect

104 LIFE OF
effect of his genius, and of no vindictive spirit. For
the difference between him, and ordinary writers, who
seem to be at their ease in disputing, whether on
religion or any other subject, is merely this— He felt
strongly and wrote forcibly: They are incapable of
doing either. This is the simple truth, if It may be
told ; and hence it is, that the same complaint has
been made of every great gemus In controversy, from-
Jerom down to our author.
Not but another consideration may be worth attend*
ing to. The end of controversy is either to convinc© ;
the person you dispute with, or sunply to confute his
opinions. When the former is the object, without
doubt the softest words are the best. But, the other-
is best done by vigorous expression ; because it shews
the disputant to be In earnest, and sets the error, con
tended against, in the strongest light; the likeliest
means, to prevent others from being infected with it :
And such was the Bishop's view in most of the con
troversies, In which he engaged. The same observation
may be extended to what has been called his dogmatic
manner of writing ; which is only the firm tone of one
who believes what he says, and is indeed very different
frora the careless unconcerned air of the Sceptlck.
But, lastly, I must observe, that the charges of impa'-<
tience, and severity, In the sense intended by those
that urge them, are not true. When no unfriendliness
appeared In those who differed from him, he heard
their reasons as patiently, confuted thera as calmly, or
gave way to them as readily, as other men. Which
I may the rather affirm, having had the experience
of It on raany occasions. Our sentiments, no doubt,
agreed In the main : there could not, otherwise, have
been so entire a friendship between us, as there was. But

THE AUTHOR. 105
But I never took greater liberties with any man, than
with him, nor with less offence ; and that, in matters
of no small delicacy ; as tiie reader will see from the
following example, among many others which I could
easily give him.
Voltaire had spent a great part of his miserable life
In railing against the Jewish law and its Divine Author.
His complete ignorance of the subject disposed men
of learning, very generally, to treat his censures with
neglect. But the Bishop of Gloucester, observing
the impression they made on a licentious public,
thought it might be of use to shew this fashionable
blasphemer in his true light ; to strip his sophistical
reasonings of the littie plausibility they had ; and, for
the rest, to turn his favourite weapon of ridicule
against himself
With this view, he had been at the pains to plan
a work of some length, in three Dissertations, which
would take in the whole of that subject, and give him
occasion to expose, with much force, Voltaire's libertine
glosses upon it. When he had sketched out the con
tents of this discourse, he sent It to me, and desired
to know what I thought of it, and whether he should
proceed in the design, or no. I told him very frankly.
That, although I thought his plan an excellent one,
and could trust him with the execution of it, yet, upon
the whole, I wished him to prosecute his design no
farther. I said, there was no end of confuting every
shallow, though fashionable scribbler against religion ;
that he had done enough already in exposing so raany
others of that family, and, very lately, the noble
writer that was at the head of It In England, to the
just scorn of thmking men ; that to go on In this
agonistic course, was not only needless, but would bring

io5 LIFE OF
bring a storm of envy upon him from all quarters ;
and that even his friends would, many of thera, con
sider him as too fond of controvers}', and as indulging
himself too freely in the talent he had for it. — I added
otiier considerations, and particularly this. That I
thought it beneath him to commit himself with a
person so little acquainted, as Voltaire confessedly
was, with the matter in question ; and that for him
to answer such a writer in form, would be like breaking
a butterfly upon a wheel, according to his friend Pope's
ingenious iUustration of such atchlevements.
In conclusion, I pressed him eamestiy to leave this
man of merriment to his own serious reflections, if he
ever had any ; and to reserve his force for some better
occasion, than that of repeUing the slight cavUs of
ignorant and Ul-inforraed raen.
This free remonstrance was not ill taken. He
answered rae without hesitation, and in one word —
" In the raatter of Voltaire, your advice will have its
" usual weight with rae." — The plan was accordingly
laid aside, and forgotten.
After such an example of facility in taking advice,
the Bishop of Gloucester ¦will not be thought that
impracticable man, he has been sometimes represented
to be. Many perhaps will think, with more reason,
that his easiness went too far in this uistance ; for
that his Three Dissertations on the Jewish law and
history would have been highly entertaining, at least ;
and perhaps as useful in repressing the petulance
of the French poet, as the Four Letters had been in
dismounting the arrogance of the English philosopher.
And upon these grounds, I might indeed have repented
me of the free advice I gave him, but for the pleasure
1 have since had in seeing the sarae design undertaken, and

THE AUTHOR. 107
and executed with great elegance and abiUty, by
another hand*.
But perhaps I have miseraployed my pains in setting
the controversial character of my friend in a just light.
There are those, I know, who will regard this praise,
\vhatever it be, as injurious to the learned prelate,
rather than honourable to him ; who will be ready to
tell us tiiat controversial janglings are out of date ; that
they never did any good, and are now at length fallen
into general and just contempt. '
To these wise men I should have rauch to say, if I
could find raeans to do It without disgracing myself and
disgusting them, by an air of controversy. And would
to God that reUgious controversy were now of no use
in this manly age of the world 1 I should then be for
laying it aside with other childish things. But is this
the fact } and when all quarters, besides, resound with
controversy, is there no demand for It In the schools
of religion ? After all, the reader sees what is aimed
at by this affected contempt of theological altercation.
A hint, in passing, is more than enough on a subject,
which the Bishop himself has treated at some length,,
and with his usual force f .
I apprehend therefore no discredit to ray friend or
myself, in having dwelt so long on the virtues of the
Controversial writer. They were eminently con
spicuous in him ; and exerted for a just purpose, that
of confuting error, and repressing calumny. Not that
I' am concerned to deny all mixture of frailty in my
friend's exercise of his polemic talents. It will be
* See Lettres de quelques Juifs, 8^c. in 3 tom. 1 2°, Par. 1 y/G..
,t See Vol, VIII. "Doctrine of Grace," Book III. Ch, il.
near the end. found

io8 LIFE OF
found in our best performance of the best things.
And It Is credible enough; that the abundance of his
wit tbe vivacity ofhis temperament, and the petulance
of his advei-sarles, may have sharpened his style too
much in some instances. Yet, on the whole, he might
apologize for himself, as Erasmus has done In a fine
letter to his friend Sadolet — " Some of my opponents,
" says he, because they deserved no better of me, I hme
" EXPOSED, perhaps, rather than confuted: yet with
" more temper, as I think, myself, than they attacked
" me. Although I am sensible, that passion may have
" biassed my judgement. For I must coif ess that I
" am easily warmed by ill usage ; but so, as not to re-
" tain the resentment of it long, and to forget iniwies

as soon as any man*."

As a Divine, properly so called, he filled and
adorned that character with the highest abUity.
Strength of reason, exquisite learning, a critical
knowledge of antiquity, an enlarged view of the scheme
of Revelation, a wonderful sagacity in discovering the
sense of Scripture, and in opening the probable grounds
of its clearly revealed doctrines, with the profoundest^
submission of his understanding to them, whether
those grounds of reason were apparent to hira or not — •
These rare and adrairable qualifications shone out in
him ^yitb greater lustre, than in any other ornaraent?
* " Quosdam, quia sic merebantur, i rei si veriiis quaitf
" confutavi, nusquam non temperatior his a quibus laces-
" sebar, ut mea quidem, fert opinio ; nam fieri et potest et
" solet,utmeo judicio impouataffectus; atque is sum fateor,
" qui possem lacessitus incandescere, sed nee irse pertinacis,
" et injuriarum obUviosus, ut si quis aUus." Ep. MXCIV.
Ed. Cler. L. B. 1703. of

THE AUTHOR. lo^
of our church, StUUngfteet, and Barrow, and Taylor
himself not excepted. To vriiich I must add that first
and noblest quality, of aU, A perfect honesty of mind,
and sincere love of truth, which governed his pen in ail
his religious inquiries *. After
* Consideringhimin this view,I mean asa CONSUMMATE
Divine, one cannot but lament the fate of a work he had
projected, but never executed, at least in the manner in
tended by him. On theological studies, for the use of young
people : a plan of which he had digested in his own mind,
and communicated to me, by letter, so early as the year 1 750.
The principal beads were,
1 . The right state and disposition of mind to make proper
improvements — in this were to be considered the
natures of scepticism, dogmaticalness, enthusiasm,
superstition, 8cc.
2. The previous studies of morality and natural religion
from their first principles and foundations ; and of
antiquity, critical, historical, and philosophical.
3. The study of the Scriptures.
4. Fathers and modern Divines.
5. Ecclesiastical history.
6. Sermonizing, or the art of preaching.
This work he reserved for the amusement ofhis declining
years. But, as what is deferred so long, is rarely executed
at all, and never so well as at an earlier season, so tliis noble
design, which re'quired the exertion of his best faculties in
their full vigour, was not wlioUy neglected indeed, bu£
.slightly attempted by him, a few years before his death : as
I find from a bi'ief sketcli ofit among liis papers, whicli ap
pears to have been drawn up hastily for the use of a friend,
and was afterwards made to serve by vvay of charge to his
clergy." Such

110 LIFE OF
After mentioning to me, in one of his letters *, some
interesting meditations, he was then engaged in, he
stops short, and asks—" But what Is man ! A fit of the
" spleen, a fit of Ulness, and lastly death, may wipe
" out all these glorious visions, with which my brain
" at present is painted over : as Law said, it once
" was with hieroglyphics. But I hope the best;
" because I only aim at the honour of God and good
" of men. When I say this I neeil not perhaps add
" (as I do with the utmost seriousness) that I shall
" never wittingly advance one falsehood, nor conceal or
" disguise one truth."
So that those, if any such there were, who thought
he wrote for a party, with the views of interest, for the
sake of reputation, or, In short, from any other cause
than conviction, and the purest zeal for the advance
ment of truth, knew nothing of his character, and did
him great wrong.
But to take hira out of his study, and to consider
hira in the comraon walks of life.
He was of a chearful temper ; yet subject, at times,
to fits of absence, and, if we may believe himself, even
of melancholy. For so he paints his own complexional habit
Such as it is, I have judged it wortb preserving. The
reader will be pleased to see tbe thoughts of so great a man
on this subject; and wiU, without doubt, make the proper
allowances for their being laid before him in this imperfect
state ; without the detail, which was intended, and withouf
those embeUishments of style and composition, wiiich in
his best time, he could so easily have bestowed upon them.
This discourse, under the name of Directions for the Study
of Theology, will be found in the Xth Volume.
¦* Jan, 12, 1757.

THE AUTHOR. m
habit in two remarkable letters, addressed to a friend,
and lately made public *.
In one of these, dated Feb. 14, 1742-3, he writes
thus : — " We have all somethina: to make us think less
" complacently of the world. Religion ¦will do great
" things. It will always make the bitter waters of
" Marali wholesome and palatable. But we must not
" think it vvill usuaUy turn water to wine, because it
" once did so. Nor is It fit It should, unless this were
" our place of rest, where we w^ere to expect the
" Bridegroom. I do the best I can, and should, I
" think, do the same, if I were a mere Pagan, to make
" Ufe passable. To be always lamenting the miseries,
" or always seeking after the pleasures of It, equaUy
" takes us off from the work of our salvation. And
" though I be extremely cautious w hat sect I follow
" in religion, yet any in philosophy will serve my turn,
" and honest Saricho Panca's is as good as any ; who
" on his return from an Important commission, when
" asked by his master, whether they should mark the
" day with a black or a white stone ; replied, ' Faith,
" Sir, if you will be ruled by me, with neither, but
" with good brown ochre.' What this philosopher
*' thought of his commission, I think of human life la
" general, good brown ochre is the complexion of it."
The other letter, I hinted at, is dated Feb. 2, 1740,
and is of a still darker cast. For, speaking of what
had made him delay so long the second volume of his
D. L., he proceeds in the following manner — " I
" would not have you think that natural Indolence
" alone makes me thus play the fool. Distractions of
" various kinds, inseparable from human life, joined
* la the coUection before mentioned. " witii

112 LIFE OF
" witii a naturally melancholy habit, contribute greatiy
" to increase my Indolence, and force me often to seek
•'¦in letters, nothing but raere amusement. This
" makes my reading wild and desultory : and I seek
" refuge from the uneasiness of thought from any
" book, let It be wiiat it wUl, that can engage ray at-
" tention. There is no one whose good opinion I
" more value than yours. And the marks you give
*' me of it make me so vain, that I was resolved to
" humble myself In making you this confession. By
" my manner of writing upon subjects, you would
" naturally imagine they afford me pleasure, and attach
" me thoroughly. I will assure you. No. I have
" amused myself much in human learning, to wear
" away the tedious hours inseparable from a melan-
" choly habit. But no earthly thing gives me pleasure,
" but the ties of natural relation, and the friendship
" of good men. And for all views of happiness, I
" have no notion of such a thing, but in the prospects
" which revealed religion affords us."
These letters appear to have been written, the latter
of them especially, In a splenetic moment. But what ,
is said of a melancholy habit means no more (for there
was no gloom of melancholy in the tenour of his life
or conversation) than that, being of an Inventive turn,
or, in the language of his friend Bishop Hare, having
av^ ingenious xvorking head *, the driving ofhis thoughts
sometimes wore his mind too much, and forced him to
relieve It by changing the object of his attention.
Hence the desultory reading ; which, however, store'd^
his memory with images of all sorts, and, as I before
observed f, while It repaired the vigour of his raind,
•* Page 14. f Pages 10,11. threw

THE AUTHOR. 113
threw a richness and variety of colouruig over all hia
writings. But to go on with what I proposed to say of his
companionable qualities.
In raixed companies he was extremely entertaining;
but less guardecji than men of the world usually are ;
and disposed to take to himself a somewhat larger
share of the conversation, than very exact breeding is
thought to allow. Yet few, I believe, wished him to
be more reserved, or less comraunicative, thah he was.
So abundant was the infojmation, or entertainraent,
which his ready wit and extensive knowledge afforded
thera ! In private with his friends, he was natural,
easy, unpretending; at once the raost agreeable and
most useful companion in the world. You saw to the
very bottom of his mind on any subject of discourse ;
and his various literature, penetrating judgeraent, and
quick recollection, made him say the liveliest, or the
justest things upon it. In short, I was in those mo
ments affected by his conversation, pretty much as
Cato was by that of Maximus Fabius, and may say,
as he does in the dialogue on Old Age — !' / zvas so
"fond ofhis discourse, and Ustened to it so eagerly,
" asif I had foreseen, what indeed came to pass, tkat
" wken I lost kirn, I should never again meet with
^' so instructive a companion *."
I spoke of hh private friendships. They were witlv
men of learning and genius ; chiefly, with clergymen
©f the EstabUshed Church ; and thbse, the most con
siderable of the time. It would be invidious to give
* " Ejus sermone it^ tum cupid^' firuebar, quasi jam divi-
" narem id, quod evenit, illo extincto, fore, und^ disceremj
" neminem." Cic. de Senectute. C. IV.
Vol, I. ' I a list

114 LIFE OF
a Ust j)f tiiese. I shaU only mention, by way of spe
cimen, tiie learned Archdeacons of Stow and Win-
Chester. The fonner of these, Mr. Towne, was of his early
acquaintance, when he lived In Lincoli>shire, and
much respected by him to his death.. He was an in
genious and learned man, and so conversant in the
Bishop's writings, that he used to say of him, " He
" understood them better than himself" , He. pub
Ushed some defences of the Divine Legation,, in which,
with a glow of zeal for his friend, he shewed much
logical precision and acuteness *.
The latter. Dr. Balguy, was a person of extraor
dinary parts, and extensive learning ; indeed of uni
versal knowledge ; and, what Is so precious in a man
of letters, of the most exact judgement : as appears
from some valuable discourses "f, which, having been
written occasionally on important subjects, and pub-
* The foUowing is, I believe, an exact Ust of them :
1 . Critical Inquiry into tbe Practice and Opinions of tk
antient PhUosophers conceming the Soul, &c.
Lond. 1748.
2. Exposition of the Orthodox System of CivU Rights,
and Church Power ; addressed to Dr. Stebbing.
3. Argument of tbe D. L. fairly stated. Lond. 1751.
4. Free and Candid Examination of Bishop SheriockV
Sermons, and Discourses on Prophecy. Lond. 1756.
5. Dissertation on the antient Mysteries. Lond. 1766.
6. Remarks on Dr. Lowth's Letter to Bishop Warbuiton.
Lond. 1766.
t These discourses, with some others, were afterward
collected into one volume in 1785, and presented, vrith a
handsome Dedication, to His Majesty. — This exceUent per
son died Jan. 19. 1795, whUe the concluding dieetS of this
Discourse were yet in the press. lished

THE AUTHOR. 115
lished separately by him, had raised his reputation so
high, that his Majesty, out ofhis singular love of
merit, and witiiout any other recommendation, was
pleased in 1781 to make him the offer of the Bishop
rick of Gloucester. Dr. Balguy had a just sense of
this flattering distinction; but was unhappily pre
vented by an infirra state of health from accepting it.
With these, and such as these, the Bishop was happy
to spend his leisure hours. A general conversation
he never affected, or rather took much pains to avoid,
as what he justly thought a waste of time in one of
his temper, talents, and profession.
But to draw to an end of this long, and, as It may
seem to those who knew littie of Him, too fond a cha-^
racter of my Friend.
He had his foibles, no doubt ; but such as we readily
excuse, or overlook, in a great character. With more
reserve in his writings and conversation, he had passed
through the world with fewer enemies (though no pru
dence could have kept a genius, like his, from having
many) ; and, with a temper less irritable, he would
have secured a raore perfect enjoyment of himself^
•But these^ were the imperfections of his nature, or
rather the excrescences of his ruling virtues, an un
common FRANKNESS OF MIND, and SENSIBILITY OF
HEART. These qualities appear in all his writings,
especially in his private letters; in wbich a warm
affection for his friends, and concern for their interests,
is every where expressed. But his tenderness for his
faraily, and, above all, his filial piety *, strikes us with
peculiar force. In
* A leading feature in the chai'acter of great men. See
Plutarch's Coriolanus, Ed. Xyland. p. 215. Marcius, says
la big

,,6 LIFE OF
In a letter to me from Durham July 12, 1 757. he
writes thus-" I am now got (through much hot
" weather and fatigue) to this place. I hurried from
" the heat of London at a time, and under circum-
" stances, wben a true Court Chaplain would never
" have forgiven himself the folly of preferring the
" company of his friends and relations, to attendance
" on the Minister. But every one to his taste. I had
" the pleasure of finding you well at Cambridge ; I
" had the pleasure of finding a Sister and a Niece
" well at Broughton, with whom I spent a few days
" witii much satisfaction. For, you must know, I
** have a nuraerous "faraily : perhaps, the more en-
" deared to rae, by their sole dependance on me.
" It pleased Providence that two of my sisters
" should marry unhappUy : and that a third, on the
" point of venturing, should escape the hazard, and
" so engage my care only for herself — I reckon this a
" lucky year : For I have married a niece to a re-
" putable grocer at York, and have got a commission
" for a nephew in the regiraent of artillery. These
" are pleasures," &c.
What his fiUal piety was, will be seen from the fol
lowing extracts.
" I am extremely obliged to you " (says he to a
confidential friend *) " for your remembrance of ray
" dearest, my incomparable Mother, whom I do mors
" than
bis biographer, s« enitliA.TrKalo ouo^u/jlvIm lif^amt xj ti/MH'—
Wben 1 complimented my friend on his promotion to the
see of Gloucester, — " It comes, said he, too lateTlf my
" mother had been living, it might have given me some
" satisfaction." — Seneca says to his mother, of his brother
Novatus, 'In hoc dignitatem excolit, ut tjhi omamento
sit.', De consoL ad Helviam, c. xvi. H.
* Dr. Taylor. May 22, 1746.

THE AUTHOR. 117
" than love, whom I adore. No mortal can ever
" merit more of me, tiian she has done. — Her decline
" of Ufe possesses me with anxiety; and I have no
" support for this but in tbe thoughts of that last
" meeting, which excludes all farther chance of se-
" paration. But I must break off You have had
" long experience what pain it is to me to speak of
" subjects that affect me most."
And, again, to the same person, on occasion of her
death in 1 748 — " You should have heard from me
*¦ sooner, but that the afflictive news of my dear
" Mother's death, which met me at this place *, made
*' rae incapable of writing, or indeed of doing any
" thhig but grieve for the loss of the raost admirable
" woman that ever was. She was the last of her
*¦ faraily ; and had in herself alone more virtues than
*' are generally possessed by whole families throughout
*' the whole course of their existence. My extrerae
" sorrow for her death can only give place to ray
^' incessant raeditation on her virtues and adoration
*' of her memory. This is one of those losses that
*' nothing can repair, and only tirae can alleviate.
<' For I shall never enjoy that happiness as in the
" days when you and I were conversing together, while
*' she was giving us our coffee, At present, I can
<¦ think of nothing," &c.
But I grow prolix again (for the reader's sake I will
not say, tedious) while I indulge myself in extracting
these tender passages from his letters.
To conclude at length, in one word.
How differentiy soever men might think of him in
his lifetime, all are, or will be, agreed in their opinion*
pf him, now he is dead. For, as a Divine of his own
* Prior Park. 1 3 «ze,

ii8 LIFE OF
size, and one after his own heart, said excellently well
— " When great prelates are living, their authority is
" depressed by their personal defaiUances, and the
" contrary interests of their conteraporaries; which
" disband, when they are dead, and leave tiieir credit
" entire upon the reputation of those excellent books
" and raonuraents of learning and piety, which are
«' left behind them *."
What that credit of our great prelate is, this collec
tion of his works will shew ; and will, if I mistake
not, deliver him down to posterity as the ablest Divine,
the greatest Writer, and the first Genius of his age.
They are faithfully printed from the last editions of
the author, and those in many places corrected by his
own hand. In one respect only, I have some apology
to make to the reader. Several of his fiiends had ob
served to him (and he was, hiraself, convinced of it)'
that he had filled the margin of the Alliance and
Divine Legation with too many notes ; and had swelled
those volumes. In the latter editions, with too many
extracts, under the name of Postscripts, or Appendices
from his controversial tracts. The longer notes
occupy the reader too much, and divert him from the
main arguraent, which, as it lies In the text of the Divine
Legation especially, Is drawn out to a sufficient len<^th :
otherwise, they are infinitely curious and learned and
deserve to be read with great care. They are now,
therefore, printed together at the end of each book, '
and referred to in the text. By this disposition, the
reader's convenience is consulted, and the digaity of
those capital works is preserved. As for such of the
Postscripts, as are extracted from his controversi^
works, these I ought, perhaps, to have withdrawn : but^
* Bishop Taylor, L. P. p. 210, Svo. Lond. 1709.

TBE AUTHOR. 119
as hereafter they may have their use in separate
editions of the AUiance and Divine Lesation, 1 have
permitted them to keep their place. I did this the
rather, because these discourses are not merely repe
titions, but have received many corrections and altera
tions from the author; whUe the controversiaitreatises,
from -wiilch they are taken, were never retouched by
him, but left in their original state.
Those CONTROVERSIAL PIECES themsclves could
by no means be suppressed, or altered in the least, as
tiiey present the liveliest image' of the writer's character
and genius, and derive a peculiar grace fiom being
seen in that connexion of thought, and glow of colour
ing, w hich they took, in the heat of composition, from
his careless and rapid hand.
Some of his private letters (such as had been printed
in his lifetime by himself, or otheivs) conclude the last
Tolume ; and shew how much he exceUed In this sort
of composition, for wiilch he w'lis indeed singulaiiy
qualified by the characteristic virtues both of his head
and heart. The reader will therefore w ish fbr a larger
collection of them ; and he n.ay, in due time, be gra
tified with Itj out of the Editor s long correspondence
with him.
It may be proper to add, that this elegant edition *
of his works is given at the sole expence of his widow,
now Mrs. Stafford Smithy, of Prior- Park: who also
erected the monument, before spoken of, to his raemory
in the church of Gloucester. * 4'°. 1788,
f She survived the Bishop somewhat more than seven
teen years ; and died at Fladbury near Evesham (a living
of good AKilue, which I had given to Mr. Stafford Smith)
September the 1st, 1796. R.W. '
1 4 I have

120 LIFE OF THE AUTHOR.
I have now, as I found myself able, and in the man
ner I judged raost fit, discharged ray duty to this inconir
parable inan : a duty, which he seemed to expect
would be paid to him by one or other of his surviving
friends, when, in the close of his preface to Mr. Pope's
works, he has these affecting words — " And I, when
" envy ^nd calumny take the same advantage of my
" absence (for, while I live, I will trust It to my life to
¦*' confiite them) may I find a friend as careful of my
" honest fame, as I have been of his." — I have, I say,
endeavoured tp dp justice to his meraory ; but in so
doing I have taken, the reader sees, the best raethod to
preserve my own. For, in placing myself so near to
him in this edition of his Immortal works, I have the
fairest, perhaps the only chance of being known to
posterity myself Epvy and Prejudice have had their
day : And wlien his name cpmes, as it wUl do, into aU
mouths, it raay then be remembered, that the writer
pf this life was honoured with some share ofhis esteem;
and had the pleasure of living in the raost entire and
unreserved friendship with him, for near thirtt
YEARS.

"iSZ'w'- R.^W'ORCESTEB.
1 PECUS, I, NOSTRUM : MELIORIBUS
. I -
UTERE I'ATIS. ' Virg. Mn. VI. 546.

[ 121 ]

APPENDIX

TO

THE LIFE.

LETTER [A] p. 26.
— " I HAVE known this Gentleman about twenty
years. I have been greatly and in the most generous
manner obUged to him. So I am very capable, and
you will readily believe, very much disposed to apolo
gize for hun. Yet for all that, if I did not really believe
him to be an honest man, I would not venture to
excuse him to you. Nothing is raore notorious than
the great character he had acquired in the faithful and
able discharge of a long erabassy at Constantinople,
both in the public part, and the private one of the
merchants affairs. The first reflexion on his character
was that unhappy affair of the Charitable-corporation.
I read carefully all the reports of the coramittee con
cerning it : And as I knew Sir Rober Sutton's teraper
and character so well, I vt^as better able than most to
judge pf the nature of his conduct in it. And I do in
my conscience believe that he had no more suspicion
of any frand, carrying on by some in the durection, than

122 APPENDIX TO THE LIFE
than I had. That he was guilty of neglect and
negligence, as a Director, is certain : but it was only
tlie natural effect of his temper (where he has no sus
picion) which Is exceedingly indolent. And he suffered
sufficientiy for it, not only in his censure, but by the
loss of near £. 20,000. And at this very juncture he
lost a considerable sum of money (through his. negli
gence) by the villany of a land-steward, who broke and
run away. Dr. Arbuthnot knew him well ; and I am
fully persuaded, though I never heard so, that he had
the same opinion of him in this affair that I have. But
parties ran high, and tills became a party matter.
And the violence of parties no one knows more of
than yourself. And his virtue and Integrity have been
since fully manifested. Another prejudice against
him, with those who did not know him personally,
was the character of his brother, the General, as
•worthless a man, without question, as ever was created;
But you will ask, why should a man in his station be
engaged in any affair with such dirty people? 'Tis
a reasonable question ; but you, who know human
nature so well, will think this a sufficient answer. He
was born to no fortune, but advanced to that station
in the Levant, by tiie Interest of his cousin Lord
Lexington ; besides the straitness of his circumstances,'
the usual and constant business of that embassy gave
him, of course, a mercantile turn. He had seen in
^almost every country, where he had been, societies
of this kind, subsisting profitably to theraselvesj and
beneficiaUy to the public. For not to think he came
amongst them with a viev/ to his own profit principally,-
would indeed be absurd. Yet I am sure with a view
of an honest profit. For he is very far from an avari
cious man. He lives up to his fortune, without being
^ 2 guilty

OF THE AUTHOR. 12^
jguilty of any vice or luxury. He is an extreme
good and faithful husband, and with reason indeed^
for it is to one of the finest w^omen in England. He
is a ^tender and indulgent father to very hopeful
children ; a kind master, and one of the best landlords
to his tenants. I speak all this of ray own knowledge.
He has a good estate in tills placa My parishioners
are good people. The times (till very lately) for tliis
last fifteen years have been extreme bad for the^
graziers ; I got of hini, for them, tw-o abatements, in
their rents, at two several times. I wiU only beg leave
to give you one raore instance that relates to myselt^
and is not equivocal in his character. I chanced to
know him, when I was very young, by means of ray
neighbourhood to Lord Lexington (wiiora I never
knew) where he oft canie. And, without any considera- .
tion to party or election interest, he seeraed to have
entertained an early esteera for me. He had two good
livings, on estates he had lately bought : and without
the least intimation or solicitation he told me I should
have the first that fell. He was as good as his word.
But this was not all. As soon as I becarae possessed
of the living, he told me, that (from what he had been
informed by my predecessor, who at his. death w^
going to commence a suit for his just dues) the Uving
was much injured by a low^ and illegal composition.
That he thought I ought to right myself, and he would
join with me against the other freeholders (for his
estate is something more than one half of the parish).
I rephed, that as he paid all tiie tithes for his tenants,
the greatest loss, in ray breaking the composition^
would faU upon himself, who must pay me half as rauch.
more as he then did. He said, he did not regard
tijat; I was his friend, and it was my due, I answered^. that.

124 APPENDIX TO THE LIFE
that, however, I could not do it yet,'for that the worid
would never conceive It to be done with his consent,
but would say tiiat I had no sooner got his living, than
I had quarrel'd with him. But, when I came to my
parish, I found them so good a sort of people, that
I had as littie an inclination to fall out with them.
So (though to my great injury) I have deferred the
matter to this day. Though the thing in the opinion
of Sir R. Raymond, who gave it on the case, as drawn
up by tbe parishioners themselves, is clear and indis
putable ; yet they won't give it up without a law-suit
In a word, there is nothing I am more convinced of
than the innocence of Sir R. S. in the case of the Cha
ritable Corporation, as to any fraud, or connivance at
fraud. You, who always follow your judgment, free
from prejudice, will do so here. I have discharged my
duty of friendship both to you and him." —

LETTER [5] p. 35,
Newark, Jan. 26,, 1744-5.
GOOD MADAM,
I HAD the honour of your obliging letter of the
25th of last August, sent me to Bath, where I then
was. After some stay there, where my time was
taken up more than I could have wished, I went to
London, where I was still less in my own power. I
am just' now retumed home ; and the first thmg I
thought of was to make my aeknowledgemaits for that
favour. ''
I do not wonder that the goodness of your heart,
and your love pf letters, should make you speak with set

OF THE AUtHOlt. 12^
50 much tenderness of poor Mr. Pope's death ; for it
was a great loss both to the literary and moral world.
In answer to your obliging question, what works of
Mr. Pope have been pubUshed witii my commentaries
and notes ? I am to inform you, tiiey are the Dunciad
in quarto, and the Essay on Man and on Criticism, in
the same size. Which affords rae an opportunity to
beg the favour of you to let rae know into whose,
hands in London I can consign- a small parcel for you :
For I have done myself the honour of ordering these
two volumes to be sent to you, as I believed you
would with difficulty get thera of your booksellers so far
North ; and I hope you wiU forgive this liberty.
Towards the conclusion of your letter, you have
sent me one of the politest cartels iraaginable. I
think, his answer was generally coraraended, who told
the Emperor, when he pressed him, that he never
would dispute with a man who had twenty legions at
his becL And do you think I will enter the Usts with
a lady, whose writings have twenty thousand charms
in them? If I confided hi myself, and aimed at
honour, I could not indeed do better : for fhe case is
there, as in the works of the Italian poets ; who have,
with great decorum, when they introduced female
warriors, made the overcoming one of thera the highest
pouit of valour and address in their heroes. Besides,
to speak out of a figure, we differ in what is the true
foundation of morality. I have said all I have to say
On the subject. And though It be hard to guess when
a writer so rauch the mistress of her subject has said
all, yet if I believed what you have said was all, I
might perhaps be in some measure excuseable; as I see
-you say so much more than ^y writer of your side
the qti^^on had doneJbefore you.
One

.12.6 APPENDIJi TO THE LIFE
One thing, and only onCj you wUl give me leave.
Madam, to observe : that I ara a little surprized at the
consequence drawn from my position — " that, as with
out a God there could be no obligation, therefore the
Atheist who believes there is none (and might deduce
that truth concerning obligation from the principles
of right reason) would have no tye upon him."
Hence I concluded, and I thought rightly, that
Atheism was highly Injurious to society; But hoiy
any one could conclude from this (for this is the
amount of what I said on that subject) that, on my
principles (for as to my opinion, I beUeve no one
would question that) an atheist is not accountable in a
future state for any enormities he may commit here I
do not see. And my reason for saying so is this. It
is a principle, I suppose, agreed on, " That crimes
" committed upon xvrong principles are equally punish?
" able with those coraraitted against right ; for tha,t
" the falling into this wrong principle wa^ occasioned
" by sorae punishable fault in the conduct." Now
I have not said one single word, throughout the dis
course, that tends to invalidate this prinqiple: Con.
sequentiy all I have said cannot affect that truth. That
an Atheist is accountable. I ask your pardon, Madanj,
for this trouble. It is what I have not given to any
other; though several have made the same objection.
They deserved nothing at my hands; and you deserve
every thing.
You enquire with great civility conceming the thiid
volume of the Divine Legation. Several offices cif
friendship, several oflaces of domestic piety and duty,
weariness with contradiction of sinners both against
sense and gramraar (for such have been my adversaiifij)
have prevented me doing any thing at the last \o\m since

OF THE AUTHOR. 127
since the publication of the second. But now b'
just upon the point of, not washing, but drying, i..j
hands of conti'oversy, I ara about to sit down in earnest
to the conclusion of the work.
I beg, Madara, not only ray best respects and ser
vices to Mr. Cockburn, who, I presume, is your spouse,
but, in that case, my congratulations v/ith him, for hia
honour and happiness in such a consort.
I am. Madam,
With the greatest regard and esteem,
Your very obliged and
Obedient humble Servant,
W. WARBURTON.

DIVINE LEGATION

OP

MO SES
DEMONSTRATE i).

BOOKS
I. II. Ill,

AnOKAAY-rON TOYS O^QAAMOYS MOY
KAI
KATANOHSn TA eAYMASIA EK TOY NOMOY SOY. PSAL.

Vol. L

[ 131 ]

CONTENTS or THE
FIRST III. BOOKS
or
THE DIVINE LEGATION.

DEDICATION to a new Edition of Books I. II. IIL
, in 1754 — to the Earl of Hardwicke - - p. 137
Dedication to the First Edition of Books I. II. III.
in 1 738-^to the Freethinkers - - pp. 141 — ^iqo
PREFACE to tbe First Edition, in 17.38 - pp. 191, 19a

BOOK L
Proves the necessity of the doctkines of a
ifutuee state of rewards and punishments to
civil society, from the nature of the thing, P-193
SECT. I. The Introduction, the nature of internal evidence j
the occasion of this , discourse, and the proposition
PP- 19s— 203
SECT II. Of tbe original of eivil society ; tht causes of
its defective plan : that this defect can be only supplied
by religion : that i-eligion, under the present dispensation
of Providence, cannot subsist without the doctrine of a
fature state of rewards and punishments ; therefore that
doctrine necessary to civil society - - pp. 203-^220
K a SECT. III.

132 CONTENT^ OF BObKS I. IL III.
SECT. III. The arguments of those who deny the necessity
of reUgion to society considered : Pomponatius falgely
ranked in that number, and vindicated : Cardan cha
racterized and censured - - - pp. 220—230
SECT. IV. &, V. Mr. Baple, the great defender of thi»
paradox in bis apology for atlieism, examined. His
arguments collected, methodiaed, and confuted. In the
course of this disputation, tbe true foundation of morality
enquired into> and shewn to be neither the essential diff'er
ence of things, nor the moral seme, but the will of God,
The causes of the contrary errors shewn : and the objec
tions against morality's being founded in the will of God,
ansvt'ered ------ pp. 230 — s8o
SECT. VI. Tlie Author of tbe Fable ofthe Bees, who con
tends that it is Vice, and not Virtue, that is useful to
society, examined, exposed, and confuted, pp. 280— 29Q

BOOK IL
Proves the necessity ofthe doctrine of a future
state to society, from the conduct of the
ancient lawgivers, and founders of civil
¦POLICY - - - - - - - p. 297
SECT. I. The magistrate's care in cultivating religion,
shewn, 1. From the universality of it, amongst all civil
policied nations. 2. From the genius of pagan religion,
both with regard to tbe nature of their gods, the attributes
assigned to them, and the mode of worship in civil use
amongst them - - - - - pp. 297—314
SECT. II. The particular arts tbe legislator employed to
this purpose : as, 1. the universal practice of pretenejing
to inspiration. It is shewn that this was done to establish the

THE DIVINE LEGATION. 133
the opinion of the superintendency of the gods over
human affairs: not to secure the reception of their laws;
nor to render those laws perpetual sad immutable when
received ------ pp. 314— 323
SECT. IIT. The next ait tbe legislator used was to preface
his lav/s with tbe doctrine of a providence in its full
extent. The prefaces to the laws of Zaieucus and CAa-
rondas, the only remains of this kind, proved genuine
against tbe arguments of a learned critic, pp. 323 — 348
Notes to tbe First and Third Sections.

[What follows, is contained in the II"" and IIP Volumes.]
SECT. IV. The next art , was the legislator's invention
of the mysteries, solely instituted for the propagation and
support of the doctrine of a future state of rewards and
punishments. Their original and progress deduced :
their nature and end explained : their secrets revealed :
and tbe causes of the degeneracy accounted for. To
give a complete idea- of this important institution, the
sixth book of Virgil is examined, and the descent
of JEneas into hell, shevpn to be only an initiation into,
and representation of the shows ofthe mysteries: — With
an Appendix.
SECT. V. The next instance of the masistrate's care of
religion, in establishing a national worship. That an
established relision is the universal voice of nature. The
right of establishing a religion justified, in an explanation
of the true theory of the union between Church and
State. This theory applied as a rule to judge of the
actual establishments in tbe pagan world. The causes
that facilitated the establishment of religion amongst
them; as likewise those causes that hindered their
(stablishments from receiving their due form.
If 3 SECT. VL

134 CONTENTS OF BOOKS I. IL IIL
SECT VI The last instance of the magistrate's care for
the Support of religion; in the allowance of a general
tohraZ:th^ measure and causes of it: the nature of
the ancient tolerated religions: bow, under the super-
vision and direction of the magistrate: and how first
violated and destroyed by civil tyranny.
Notes to the Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Sections.

BOOK III.
Proves the necessity of the doctrine of a future
state to society, from the opinion and conduct
OF the ancient sages and philosophers.
SECT. I. Testimonies of ancient sages and philosophers,
concerning the necessity of the doctrine of a future state
to civil society.
SECT. II. That none of the ancient philosopheis believed
the doctrine of a future state of rewards and punishments,
though, on account of its confessed necessity to the sup
port of religion, and consequently of civil society, all
the theistical philosophers sedulously taught it to the
people. .The several senses in wbich tbe Ancients con
ceived the permanency of the human soul explained,
Several general reasons premised, to shew that the
ancient philosophers did not always believe what they
taught, aud that they taught tbe doctrine of a future state
of rewards and punishments -vvithout believing it : Where
the principles that induced the- ancient sages to make it
lawful to deceive for public good, in matters of religion,
are explained, whereby they are seen to be sucb as had
no place in tlie propagation or genius of the Jewish and
Christian religions. In the course of this enquiry, the
5 rise*

THE DIVINE LEGATION."^ 135
rise, prfegtfegs, perfectioti, decline, and genius of the
ancient Greek philosophy, utidei- its several divisiohs, ai-e
tbiisidered artd e.^plained.
SECT. III. Enters on a particular enquiry intb the seiiti-
ments of each sect of philosophy on this point. The
division and succession of their schools. The character
of Socrates; and of tbe new aild aid Acadettiy. The
cbatactet aad genius of edch sect of the grand Qiidternion
of theistic philosophy, the PythagOfic, the Platonic, the
Petipatttic, add tbe Staic : shewing that not boe of these
belie^»'6d the doctrine of a futtife state 6f rewai-ds ahd
ptftiisbaients. The character of Tally, aild his setitimeiits
on this point. The oi'fg'iaal of the ancieht fables, and of
the doctrines of the Meternpsychosis and Metamorphosii,
occaslODally enquired into atid explained.
SECT. IV. Shews, in order to a fuller conviction, that the
ancient philosophers not only did not, but that they
could not possibly believe a future state of rewards and
punishments, because two metaphysical principles, con
cerning the nature of God, and of the human soul, vvhich
entirely oyerturn the doctrine of a future state of re
wards and punishments, were universally held and be^
lieved by all the Greek philosophers. These doctrines
examined and explained : In the course of this enquiry,
the true genius of the ancient Egyptian wisdom ex
plained; and their pretended philosophy, as delivered by
the later Greek writers, shewn to be spurious. The Sec
tion concludes with the use to be made of this remarkable
fact (of the ancient philosophers not believing, and yet
sedulously teaching, a future state of rewards and punish'
meqts) for the support of our main question.
SECT. V. This account of the ancient philosophy, so far
irom being prejudicial to Christianity, that it greatly
caredJts aud recommends it. Proved from the mischiefa
K 4 thai

136 CONTENTS OF BOOKS I. II. III.
that attend those different representations of paganism,
in the two extremes, which the defenders of religion are
accustomed to make : where it is shewn that the diffe
rence in point of perfection, between the ancient and
modern systems of morality, is entirely owing to Christi
anity.
SECT. VI. The atheistical pretence of religion's being an
invention of statesmen, and therefore false, clearly con
futed, knd shewn to be both impertinent and false. For
that, was tbe Atheist's account of religion right, it would
not follow that religion vfas false, but the contrary. But
the pretence false and groundless, religion having existed
before the civil magistrate was in being.
Appendix and Notes to the Third Book.

DEDICATION
TO A NEW EDITION OF
Books I. II. IIL of the
DIVINE LEGATION OF MOSES;
1754.

TO
THE JlIGnX HONOURABLB
PHILIP EARL OF HARDWICKE,
lORD HIGH CHAKCELLOK. OF GREAT fiillTAIN.
MY LORD,
Your Lordship having so far approved of
the good intentions of niy endeavours for above
twenty years past, in the cause of Religion,
as to confer upon me a distinguishing mark of
jfour favour, 1 am proud to lay hold of the first
public opportunity which I have had, of de
siring leave , to make piy most grateful acknow
ledgments. I take

DEDICATION
I take the liberty to inscribe to your Lordship
a new Edition of a work tending to shew and
illustrate, by a new argument. The Divine
Legation ofMoSeS; which in onr own, as well
as former times, the most celebrat€;d Champions
of Infidelity have cunningly, for their own pur
poses, laboured with aM their might, to over
throw. If I have sncceeded, or as far as I have suc
ceeded, or may hereafter succeed, in the further
prosecution of this attempt, I shall strengthen
one foundation of Christianity.
As. an author, I am not solicitous for the re-
putation of any literary perfprmance.. A work
given to the world, every reader has a right to
censure. If it has merit, it will gd do^n to
posterity : if it has none, the soon^f it di^b Und
is forgot the betleri
But 1 am extremely anxion^ that nd good^
man should mistake the view vrith wMcfe ^f,
¦write; and therefore cannot help 'feeitiig-, p^n
haps too sensibly, when it is misrepreaf^esSli

S»-

TO LORD HARDWICKE.
So far as any censure can shew that nay poor
labours are not calculated to promote Letters
or Learning, to advance Truth, or, above all, to
serve the cause of Religion^ which I profess as
a Christian and a Member of the Church of
Mnglandf I own, I have missed my end ; and
-will be the first to join with the censure which
condemns them.
In tbe mean time, the first book of this work,
5uch as it is, is hefe humbly commended to your
Lordship's protection. For to whom does it so
properly belong to patronize an argument shew
ing tha Utility of Religion to Society, as tq
that great Magistrate, Legislator, and States
man, who is best able to recommend and apply
tlie subject, by his being convinced of the
Truth of Religion ; and by his giving the
most exemplary proof of his belief, in a steddy
regard to it's dictates in his life and actions ?
it is this which makes me presume on your
Lordship's protection, not any thing extraordi*
nary in the work itself. It is enough for your
Lordship to find in those you favour a real zeal
for the interests of Virtue and Religion. The
effectual

DEDICATION,
efiectual sejvice of those interests depends on so
many accidents, respecting both the ability of
the Writer and the disposition of the Reader,
that your X«Qrdship's humanity and candour,
inlarged,and not (as it often happens) diminished
l>y your great knowledge of mankind, will
always dispose you to estimate merit by a
better rule than the success.
I am, MY LORD,
With the utmost Gratitude,
Your Lordship's
Most obHged and devoted Servant,
io«rfo», W- WARBURTON.
N0V.5. i75<). ^ ¦

[ 141 ]

DEDICATION
TO THE FiaST EDITION OJ"
Books L II. 111. of the
DIVINE LEGATION OF MOSES;
i73 8.

TO
THE FREE-THINKERS.
GENTLEMEN,
AS the following discourse was written for your use,
you have the best right to this address. . I could
never approve the custom of dedicating books to men,
whose professions made them strangers to the subject.
A discourse on the Ten Predicaments, to a leader of
armies, or a system of casuistry to a minister of state,
always appeared to me a high absurdity.
Another advantage I have in this address, is that 1
shall not lie under any temptations of flattery ; which,
at this time of day, when every topic of adulation
has been exhausted, wjll be of eq^ual ease and advan
tage to us both.
^ Not

142 DEDICATION (1738) TO
Not but I must own you have been managed, even
by some of our Order, wjth very singular complai-
sauce. Whether it was that they affected the fame of
moderation, or had a-higher ambition for the honour
of your good word, I know not ; but I, who neither
love your cause, nor fear the abilities that support it,
while I preserve for your persons that justice and
charity which my profession teaches to be due to all,
can never be brought to think otherwise of your cha
racter, than as the despisers of the ^Master whom I
serve, and as the implacable enemies of that Order,
to which I have the honour to belong. And as such, I
should be tempted to glory *in your censures; but
¦would certainly refuse your coramendations.
Indeed, Avere it my design, in the manner of mo
dern dedicators, to look out for powerful protectors, I
do not know wliere I could sooner find them, than
amongst the gentlemen of your denomination : for
liotbing, I believe, strikes the serious observer with
inore surprize, in this age of novelties, than that
strange propensity to infidelity, so visible in men of
aJmost eveiy condition ; amongst whom the advocates.
ef Deism are received with all the applauses due to
the inventors of the arts of life, or the deliverers pf -
oppressed arid injured nations. The glorious liberty
«/' tke Gospel is forgotten amidst our clamours against
church-tyranny; and we slight the fruits ofthe re
stored Tree oj^ Knowledge, for the sake of gathea"ing
a few barren leaves of Free-thinking, misgrafted on the
pld prolific stock of Deism.
But let me not bc misiiriderstood; here are no inst-
nuationsi'

THE FI^EE-THINKERS. 143
nuations intended against Uberty : for, surely, what
ever be the cause of this epidemic folly, it would be
-.mjust to ascribe it to the freedom ofthe Press, which
wise men have ever held one of the most precious
bwi^hes of national Liberty. What, though it mid
wifes, as it were, these brain-sick birtlis ; yet, at the
«ame time that it facilitates the delivery, it lends a
forming hand to tlie mishapen issue: for, as in natural
foodies, become distorted by suftering in the conception,
or by too strait iraprisonment in the womb, a free un
restrained exposition of the parts may, in time, I'e-
duce them nearer to their natural rectitude; so crude
and rickety notions, enfeebled by restraint, when per-
JXlitted to be drawn out and examined, may, by the
reform of their obliquities, and the correction of their
virulency, at length acquire health and proportion.
Nor less friendly is this liberty to the generous ad
vocate of religion : for how could such a one, when
.in earnest convinced by the evidence of his cause, de
sire an adversary whom the laws had before disarmed ;
or value a victory, where the Magistrate must triumph
.with him ? Even I, the meanest in this controversy,
should have been ashamed of projecting the defence of
the great Jewish Lawgiver, did not I know that the
same liberty of thinking was impartially indulged to
'«lk And if my dissenting in the course of this defence
from some received opinions need an apology, I de
sire it may be thought, that I ventured into this track
•the less unwillingly, to shew, by my not intrenching
in authorized speculations, that I put myself upon the
same footing with you, and wQuld claira no privilege
that was not in common. This

144 DEDICATION (1738) TO
This liberty then may you long possess; may yoii
know bow to use; may you gratefully acknowledge!
I say this, because one cannot, without indignation,
observe, that amidst the full possession of it, you still
continue, with the meanest affectation, to fill your
prefaces with repeated clamours against the difticul
ties and discouragements attending the exercise of
Free-thinking: and, in a peculiar strain of modesty
and reasoning, employ this very liberty to persuade
the world you still want it. In extolling liberty, we
can join with you ; in the vanity of pretending to have
contributed most to its establishment, we can bear with
you; but in the low cunning of pretending still to
groan under the want of it, we can neither join nor
bear with you. There was indeed a time, and that
¦hithin our own memories, when such complaints were
seasonable and even useflil ; but, happy for you,
Gentlemen, you have out-lived it: all the rest is
merely Sir Martin*; it is continuing to fumble on the
lute, though the music has been long over. For it is
not a thing to be disguised, that what we hear from you,
on this head, is but an aukward, though envenomed
imit-dtion of an original work of one, whoever he was,
who appears to have been amongst the greatest, and
most successful of your adversaries. It was published
at an important juncture, under the title of The
difficulties and discouragements which attend the study
of the Scripture. But with all the merit of this beau
tiful satire, it has been its fortune not only to be
abused by your bad imitations, but to be censured by
those in whose cause it was composed; I mean the
• In a comedy of-Dryden's. , j
friendb

THE FREE-THINKERS. 145
friends of religion and liberty. An author of note
thus expresses himself*: "Nor was this the worst:
men were not only discouraged froni studying and
revering the Scriptures by — but also by being told
that this study was difficult, fruitless, and dangerous ;
and a public, an elaborate, an earnest dissuasive
from this study, for the very reasons now mentioned,
enforced by two welPknown examples, and believed
from a person of great eminence in the church, hath
already passed often enough through the press, to
reach the hands of all the clergymen in Great
Britain and Ireland : God in his great mercy for
give the autliorf." Seriously it is a sad case ! that
one well-meaning man should so widely mistake the
end and design of another, as not to see by the
turn and cast of the Difficulties and discouragements,
that it is a thorough irony, addressed to some hot
bigots theri in power, to shew them what dismal effects
that inquisitional spirit, with which they were possessed,
would have on literature in general, at a time when
public liberty looked with a very sickly face ! Not, I
say, to see this, but to believe, on the contrary, that it
was really intended as a public, an elaborate, an ear
nest dissuasive from the study of the Scriptures I But
I have so charitable an opinion ofthe great author, for a
great author withoutdoubt he was, as to believe that had
he foreseen that the liberty, which animates this fine-
tumed piece of raillery, would have given scandal to
any good man, he would, for the consolation of such,
* Revelation Examined with Candour, in the preface.
t The author was the excellent Dr. Hare, late Bishop of
Chichester.
Vol. I. L have

346 DEDICATION (1738) TO
have made any reasonable abatement in the vigour of
his wit and argument.
But you. Gentlemen; have a different quarrel with
hhn : you pretend he hath since written on the other
side the question. Now though tlie word of his ac
cusers is not apt to go very far with me, yet, I must
own, I could be easily enough brought to believe, that
an author of such talents of literature, love of truth,
and of his country, as this appears to have been,
would as freely expose the extreme of folly at one end,
as at the other; without regarding what party he
opposed or favoured by it. And it is well known, that,
at the time tliis is pretended to h-ave been done, an
other interest being become uppermost, strange prin
ciples of licence, which tended to subvert all order,
and destroy the very essence of a Church, ran now ia
the popular stream. What tlien should hinder a
writpr, who was of no party but that of truth, to
Oppose this extravagance, as he had done its 'opposite?
And if he pleased neither bigot nor libertine by his
-uniformity of conduct, it was. for his, honour-
How public- a blessing is such a virtue !' which,
unawed by that j^/«/ enemy qf sense, as the poet calk
it, the danger of offending, dares equally oppose itself
to the difterent follies of Party in extremes.
But to return to ouf subject i The poor thFcad-bai;]^-
cant of want of Uberty, I should hope then you would
be, at lengtli, persuaded to lay aside ; but that I know
such cant is amongst your arts of controversy ; and
that sometiiing is to be allowed to a weak gauee^and to

THE FREE-THINKERS, 147
to a reputation that requires managing. We know
what to understand by it, when after a successless
insult on religion, the reader is intreated to believe
that you have a strong reserve : but till the door of
liberty be set a littie wider, you have not room to dis
play it.
Thus, at the very entrance of your works you teach
us what we are to expect. But I must beg your
patience, now I am got thus far, to lay before you
your principal abuses of tiiat liberty indulged to
you for better purposes; or, to give them the softest
name I can, in an address of this nature, your arts
OF controversy.
By this I shall at once practise the charity I profess,
and justify the opinion I have passed upon you.
Your writers, I speak it. Gentlemen, to your
honour, offer your consideratioiis to the world, either
under the character of petitioners for oppressed and
injured truth; or of teachers to ignorant and erring
men. These sure are characters that, if any, require
seriousness and gravity to support them. But so great
strangers are we to decorum, on our entry on the stage
of life, that, for the most part, like Bayes's actor in
the Rehearsal, who was at a loss to know whether he
was to be serious or merry, melancholy or in love,
we run giddily on, in a mixt and jumbled character;
but have iriost an end, a strong inclination to make
a farce of it, and mingle buffoonry with the most
serious scenes. Hence, even in religious controversy,
while the great cause of eternal happiness is trying;
J- 2 and

T48 DEDICATION (1738) TO
and men and angels, as it were, attending the issue
of the conflict, we can find room for a merry story;
and receive the advocate of infidelity with much wel
come*, if he comes with but a disposition to makfe
us laugh : though he brings the tidings of death, md
scatters round him the poison of our hopes, yet, like
the dying assassin f, we can laugh along with the mob,
though our own despair and agonies conclude the
entertainment. This quality maiking a winter so well received,, yours
have been tempted to dispense with the solemnity of
their character ; as thinking it of miich importance to
get the laugh on their side. Hence ridicule is
become their favourite figure of speech; and they have
composed sad treatises to justify its use, and very
merry ones to evince its utility. But to be fair with
you, it must be owned, that this strange disposition
towards unseasonable mirth, drives all parties upon
being witty where they can, as teing conscious of its
powerful operation in controversy: ridicule having,
frorn the hands of a skilful disputant, tive same effect
in barbarous minds,, with the new invented darts of
Marius- J, which though so weak as to break in the
* Hence Anthony Urceus,- surnamed Codrus, as vain and im
pious 33 any Free-thinker alive, being asked the reason (as we are
told by Blanchini, the writer of his life) why he mixed so much
buiFooHry iri his works,, replied, "That nature had formed man-
" kind in Such a manner, as t&be most taken with buffoons and
." story^tsUers."¦f Balthazar Gerard, wha murthered the Prince of Oraoge,
See his story.
J See Plut. Viti, Mar. toiQ. II. p. 766,-76>. Edit, Cruserii, 8ve,
throw,

THE FREE-THINKERS. 14Q
throw, and pierce no farther than the surface, yet
sticking there, they more intangle and incommode the
combatant, than those arms, which fly stronger, and
strike deeper. However, an abuse it is, and one of
the most pernicious too, of tiie liberty of the Press.
For what greater affi'ont to the severity of reason, the
sublimity of truth, and the sanctity of religion, than
to subject them to the impure touch of every empty
scurrilous Buffoon ? The politenesss of Athens, which
you pretend so much to admire, should be here a
lesson to you; which committed all questions of this
nature, when they were to be examined, to their
gravest and severest court, the Areopagus: whose
judges would not suffer the advocates for either party
to apply to tiie passions, so much as by the common
rules of the chastest rhetoric*- But a preposterous
love of mirth hath turned you all into Wits, quite
down from the sanguiae writer of The Independent
Whig, to the atrabilaire blasphemer of the miracles f .
Though it would be but charity to tell ybu a plain
truth, which Cicero told your illustrious predecessors
long agp, when infected with the sarae distemper;
*' Ita salem istum, quo caret vestra natio in
-*'; irridendis nobis, nolitote consumere. Et mehercule,
" si me audiatis, ne experiamini quidem : non decet ;
" NON DATUM EST; iion potestis." However, ifyou
will needs be witty, take once more your example
from- the fine author of The dijficuUies and discourage^
* Exemplo legis Attica?, ftlartiique judicii causa; Patronis
denuntiat Praco neque principia dicei e, neque miserationem cpm-
povere. Apul. Lib. X. Asin. Aur. p. 827. Lugd. J587. Svo.
t Woolston. L 3 ments,

150 DEDICATION (1738) TO
ments, and learn from bim the difference between Attic
irony and elegance of wit, and your intemperate
scurrility and illiberal banter.
What a noise, you will say, for a littie harmless
mirth. Ab, Gentiemen ! if that were all, you had my
leave to laugh on : I would say with the old comic,
L^tinam male qui mihi volunt, sic rideant.
But low and mean as your buffoonry is, it is yet to
the level of the people; who are as little solicitous, as
capable, of the point of argument, so they can but
catch the point of wit. Amongst such, and to such,
you write; and it is inconceivable what havoc false
wit makes in a foolish head : " The rabble of man-
*' kind," as an excellent writer well observes, " being
¦' very apt to think, that every thing which is laughed
*' at, with any mixture of wit, is ridiculous in itself*."
Few reflect on what a great witf has so ingenuously
owned, That wit is generally false reasoning. But
one, in whom your party most glories, hath Avritten in
defence of this abusive way of wit and raillery, on
serious subjects. Let us hear him then ;{;: "Nothing
" is ridiculous, except what is deformed ; nor is any
" thing proof against raillery, except what is hand-
*' some and just; and therefore it is the hardest
" thing in the world to deny fair honesty the use of this
" weapon ; which can never bear an edge against berr
* Mr. Addison's Works, voj. iii. p. 293. Quarto.
+ Mr. Wycherley to Mr. Pope, Letter XVL
J Characteristics, Vol. I. Essay on the freedom of wit and
humour, " self.

THE FREE-THINKERS. 151
" self One may defy the world to turn bravery or
" generosity into ridicule: a man must be soundly
" ridiculous, who, with all the wit imaginable, would
" go about to ridicule wisdom, or laugh at honesty ~or
" good manners." Yes, ridiculous, indeed, to laugh
at bravery, generosity, wisdom, honesty, or good
manners, as such : and I hardly think, Gentleraen, as
licentious as sorae of you are, you will be ever brought
to accept of his defiance. And why need you, when
it is but shewing them, with overcharged and dis
torted features, to laugh at your ease ? Call thera but
temerity, prodigality, gravity, simplicity, foppery, and
as 'you have often experienced, the business is done,
and the ridicule is compleat. And what security will
the _ noble writer give us, that they shall not be so
called? I am persuaded, if you are never to be thought
ridiculous till you_ become so, in the way this gen
tleman marks out, you may go safely on in the free
dom OF WIT AND HUMOUR, till there be never a
virtue left, to laugh out of countenance.
But he w ill say, he means such clear virtue as hath
no equivocal mark about her, which a prevaricator can
lay hold on. Admit this : the man of wit will then
try to raake her ridiculous in her equipage, if he
cannot make her so in her person.
J
However, will he say, it shews at least, that nothing
can be done against her, till she be disguised. A miglity
consolation this to expiring Virtue, that she cannot be
destroyed till you have put her on a fool's coat. As if
it were as hard to get that on, as Hercules's off!
Tbe comparison holds better in the converse, that
L 4 ' when

rS^ DEDICATION (1738) TO -^
when once on, it sticks as close as the envenomed one
of old, and often lasts her to ber funeral.
But if this noble wTiter means that truth cannot be
obscured, however disguised; nor consequently, be
made ridiculous, however represented ; the two cele*
brated examples, which follow, seem to shew he was
mistaken. Where, in the first, it is seen, that no-
tbint^ was stronger than the ridicule, nor, at the same
time m-ore open and transparent than the disguise;
in the latter, nothing more clouded and obscured
than the beauty of the truth ridiculed, nor more out
pf sight than the fallacy in the representation. Which
together may teach us, that any kind of disguise will
serve the turn ; and, that witty men will never be at
a loss for one.
Of all the virtues that were so much in this noble
writers heart, and in his writings, there was not one
he more revered than love of public liberty; orwhicb
he would less suspect should become liable to the im
pressions of buffoonry. Methinks I hear him say,
'* One may defy the world to turn the love of public
" liberty into ridicule : a man must. be soundly ridi-
" culous,, vfko, with all the wit inpaginable, would gq
*' about it."
However, once on a time, a great Wit set upop
this task 5 he undertook to laugh at this very virtue,
and that too, so successfully, that he set the whole
nation a laughing with him. What mighty engine,'you
will ask, was employed, to put in motion so large a
|)ody, arid for so extraordinary a cause ? In truth, a
very

THE FREE-THINKERS. 153
very simple one : a discourse, of which all the wit con
sists in the title; and that too sculking, as you will see,
under one unlucky word. 3Irs. Bull's vindication qf
the indispensable duty qf cuckoldom, incumbent
upon wives, in case qf tke tyranny, itfidelity, or insuffi^^
ciency of kusbands*. Now had the merry reade)?
been but wise enough to reflect, that reason was the
test of ridicule, and not ridicule tke te^t of trutk, he
would have seen to rectify the proposition, and to state
it fairly thus: The indispensable duty qf div onc^, etc.
And then the joke had been over, before the laugh
could have begun.
And now let this noble writer tell us, as he does, that
Jair honesty can never bear an edge against herself,
for tkat notking is ridiculous but wkat is deformed \
and a great deal to the same purpose, which his Platonic
manners supplied.
But very often the change put upon, us is not so
easily discernible. Sulpicius tells Cicero, that return
ing by sea from Asia, and seeing in his course ./Egina,
Megara, the Piraeus, and Corinth in ruins, he fell into
this very natural, and humane reflexion : " And shall
*' we, short-lived creatures as we are, bear with im-
" patience , the death of our fellows, when in one
" single view we behold the carcases of so many
^'.lately- flourishing cities'l"?" What eould be juster
or wiser than the piety pf this reflexion.? And yet it
could

»

History of John Bull, Part I. chap. xiii.

J- Ex Asia rediens, cum ab jE,gina Megaram versus navigarem,
foepi regiones circunicirca prospiqere, Post me erat .Sgina; ant^

154 DEDICATION (1738) TO
could not escape the ridicule of a celebrated French-
buffoon. " If neither (says he*) the Pyramids of
" Egvpt, nor the Colosseum at Rome, could with-
" stand the injury of time; why should I think much
" that my black waistcoat is out at elbows?" Here,
indeed, the first thing to be observed is the superior
resistance of truth.
The buffoon, before he could throw an air of
ridicule on this admirable sentiment, was forced to
change the image ; and in the place of Mgina, Megara,-
etc. to substitute the Pyramids and Colosseum, monu
ments of human pride, and folly ; which, on that ac
count, readily submitted to the rude touch of buffoonry :
while those free cities, the noblest effort of human
wisdom, the nurseries of arts and commerce, could
not easily be set in a ridiculous or an idle light.
But then, how few of his readers were able to detect
the change put upon them, when it is very probable
the author himself did not see it ? who, perplexed at
the
Ante Megara ; dextra Piraeeus ; sinistra Corinthus : quas oppida
quodam tempore florentissima fuerunt, nunc prostrata, & diruta
ante oculos jacent. Coepi egomet mecum sie cogitare: Hem!
nos botnunculi indignamur, si quis nostrnm interiit, autoccisus est,
quorum vita brevior esse debet, rum uno loco tot oppidum cadavcra
projecta jaceant > Sulpicius M. T. Ciceroni, lib. iv. ep. 5,
* Superhes monvmens de V ergueil des humains,
Piramides, Tombeaux, dont la vaine structure
A temoignfe que I'art, par I'adresse des mains
Et I'assidu travail, peut vaincre la nature !
Vieux palais ruinei, chef d'oeuvres des Romains,
Et les deroiers efforts de leur architecture, Coliisee,

THE FREE-THINKERS. 155
the obstinate resistance of truth, in the various arrange-
ment of his ideas turned the edge of his raillery, be
fore be was aware, against the phantasm, and was the
first that fell into his own deceit.
Hence may be seen what the noble writer seems
to have spoken at random, at least, not at all to the
purpose of the question he was upon, that such in
deed is the inflexible nature of truth, that all the wit
in the world can never render it ridiculous, till it be
so distorted as to look like error, or so disguised as to
appear like folly. A circumstance which, though it
greatiy recomraends -the mcgesty qf virtue, yet, as
it cannot secure it from insult, doth not at all shew
the innocence of ridicule; which was the point he
had to prove.
But to see what littie good is to be expected in this
way of xvit and humour, one may go further ; and ob
serve, that even the ridicule o^ false /virtue, which
surely deserves no quarter, hath been sometimes at
tended with very mischievous effects. The Spaniards
have lamented, and I believe truly, that Cervantes's
just and inimitable ridicule of knight-errantry rooted
up, with that folly, a great deal of their real honour.
And
Coliisee, ou souvent ces pevples inhumains,
De s'entr' assassiner se donnoifnt tablature.
Par I'injure des ans vous estes abolis,
Ou da moins la plus part vous estes demolis :
\\ n'est point de ciment que le temps np dissoi de,
5; vos marbres si dnres ont sentis son pouvoir,
Dois-je trouver mauvais, qu^un iijeschaat pourpljint noir,
Qui m'a dur^ deux ans, soit perce par le coude ? SCARRON.

,56 DEDICATION (1738) TO
^nd it was apparent, that Butler's fine satire on faim-
ticism contributed not a. littie, during the licentious
times of Charles II. to bring sober piety into disre
pute. The reason is evident : tiiere are many lines of
resemblance between Truth and its Counterfeits; and
it is the province of wit only to find out the likenesses
in things ; and not the talent of the common xidmkm
of it to discover the differences.
But you will say, perhaps. Let Truth, wheu tfiy?
attacked, defend itself with the same arms ; for why,
as your master asks, %ho\AA,fair konesty be denied the
use of this weapon? Be, it so: come on then, and let
us impartially attend tiie issue. We have, upon re
cord, the most illustrious example of this contentiof^
that ever was. The dispute I mean, was betweei|
Socrates and Aristophanes. Here truth had all the
advantage of place, of weapons, and of judges;
Socrates employed bis whole life in the cause of virtue;
Aristophanes, only a few comic scenes against it. But,
heavens 1 against what virtue ! against the purest and
brightest portion of it that ever enlightened the gentik
world. The wit of the comic writer is well known>
that of the philosopher was in a supreme degref, jus^
delicate and forceable; and so habitual, that it pip-
cured him the title of the Attic buffoon. The place
was the politest state in the politest time, Athens in
its glory; and the judges the grave senators of
Areopagus. For all this, the coraic poet triumphed :
and with the coarsest kind of buffoonry, littie fitted,
one would tWnk, to take so polite a people, had the art
to tarnish all this virtue ; and, what was rnore, to njake
the owner resemble his direct opposite, that character
^3 : he

THE FREE-THINKERS. 157
he was most unlike, that character he most hated, that
very character he had emploj'ed all his wit to detect;
lay open, and confound ; in one word, the sophist.
The consequences are well known.
Thus will raillery, in defence of vice and errer, be
still an overmatch for that employed on the side of
truth and vutue. Because y<//r honesty uses, though a
sharp, yet an untainted weapon ; while knavery strikes
with one empoisoned, though much duller. The ho
nest man employs his wit as correctly as his logic:
whereas the very definition of a knave s raillery is a
sophism. But, indeed, when a licentious buffoonry is once
appealed to, and encouraged ; its effects have no de
pendance on the fit choice of its object. All characters
fall alike before it. In the dissolute tiraes of Charles IL
this weapon, with the same ease, and indeed in the
same hands, completed the ruin of the best, and, of
the very worst Minister of that age. The historians
tell us, that Chancellor Hyde was brought into his
master's contempt, by this court-argument. They
miraicked his walk and gesture, with a fire-shovel and
bellows, for the raace and purse. The sarae ingeniou3
stroke of humour was repeated on Secretary Bennet,.
and, by the happy addition of his black patch, wdth just
the same success. Thus, it being the representation,
and not the object represented, which strikes the fancy^
Vice and Virtue must fail indifferently before it*- I hope
* The author of a late book called Elements of Critioisni,
speaking of men's various opinions concerning the use of ridieuki,
proceeds against what is here said, in the following mannei^— " This

158 DEDICATION (1738) TO
I hope then, Gentiemen, you will in time be brought
to own, that this method is the most unfair m itself,

and

« This dispute has produced a celebrated question, Whether
" Riiicvle be, or be not^ a test of Truth ? Which (says he) stated
" ih ACCURATE TERMS, is, Whether ihe sense of Ridicule he the
•' proper test for distinguishing ridiculous objects from those that ,
« are not so? To answer the question with precision, I must
« premise that Ridicule is not a subject of reasoning but of sensi
" or TASTE." Vol. ii. p. 55. The Critic having thus changed
the question, which he calls stating it in accurate terms; and
obscured the answer, which he calls, giving it ivith precision,
he concludes, that Ridicule is not oidy the best, but ihe onlij,
test of Trutk.
But what is all this to the purpose.? Is the Dealer in Ridicule
now debarred the liberty of doing what lie has so often done,
ptftting his objed in a false light ; and, by that means, making
Truth appear like Error? As he is not, I inferred, against Lord
Shaftesbury, That Ridicule is not a test of Truth. How does our
Critic address himself to prove the contrary ? Not by shewing,
that ridicule is such a test : but that the taste of ridicule is the
test of what is ridicidous. Who doubts that ? It is the very thing
complainesi of. For when our taste for ridicule gives us a sensible
pleasure in a ridiculous, representation of any object, we do not
stay to examine whether that representation be a true One, but
conclude it to be so, from the pleasure it affords us.
His second change of the question is a new substitution, viz.
Whether Ridicule be a talent to be used or employed at all? Of
which he supposes me to hold the negative. What else is tbe
meaning of these words? " To condemn a talent roe.
" ridicule, because it may be converted to wrong purposes, is
" not a little ridiculous. Could one forbear to smile if a talent
" FOR reasoning was CONDEMNED, because it also may be
" perverted?" p. 57. He has no reason to smile sure, at his own
misrepresentation. I never condemned a tatent for ridicule be
cause it may be abused; nor for any other reason. Though
others, perhaps, may be disposed to tmile at his absurd infe
rence, that we may as well condemn a talent Jor reasoning. Ai jf

THE FREE-THINKERS. 159
and most pernicious in its consequences : that its na
tural effect is to mislead the judgment^ and to mak$
the heart dissolute.
It is a small matter, that the State requires of you,
sobriety, decency, and good manners, to qualify you
for the noble employment of thinking freely, and at
your ease. We have been told this, you will say, be
fore : But, when it came to be explained ; By, sober
writing was meant, writing in the language of tkt
Magistrate. It may be so ; but then, remember, it
was not till you yourselves had led the way to the
abuse of wwds; and had called calumny, plain dealing;
and a scurril licence, urbanity. Happy for you, that
you are in times when liberty is so well understood.
Had you lived in the boasted days of classic freedom,
he amongst you who had escaped best, had been
branded
if reason and ridicule were of equal importance for the conduct
of human life.
He Biay then perhaps ask, " If I do not eondenm the use of
" Ridicule, on what employment I would puf it, vvhen I have ex-
" eluded it from being a test of truth ? " Let him not be uneasy
about that. There is no danger that the talent for ridicule should
lie idle, for want of proper business. When reason, the only test
of truth I know of, has performed its office, and unmasked
hypocrisy and formal error, then ridicule, I think, may be fairly
called in, to quicken the operation. Thus, when Dr. S. Clarke
had, by superior reasoning, exposed the wretched sophistry which
Mr. Collins had employed to prove the Soul to be only a quality; «f
Body ; Dr. Arbuthnot, who very rarely misemployed his inimi
table talent for ridicule, followed the blow, and gave that foolish and
impious opinion up to the contempt and laughter it deserved, in a
chapter of the Memoirs of Scriblerus. But to set Ridicule od
work before, would be as unfair, llideed as scandalous, as to bestow
the language due to convicted Vice, on a character hut barely
sujpected.

i6o DEDICATION 0738) TO
branded with a character, the ancient Sages esteemed
most infamous of all, an enemy to the religion
of his country, a very candid and respectable
author, speaking of the ancient restraints on free-
thinking, says, "These were the maxims, these the,
" principles, whieh the light of nature suggested,
" -which reason dictated *." Nor has this fine, writer
any cause to be ashamed of his acknowledgment;
nor his adversaries any pretence that he must needs
iesteem it the measure for the present times. For, as
a great Ancient well observes, " It is one thing to
" speak of truth, and another to hear truth speak
" of herselff." It was christian truth and
charity, the truth and charity you so much insult^
which only could take off those restraints ; and re
quire no more of you than to be as free, bif,t not
using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness'^.
I have now done with your buffoonry ; whjch, like
chewed bullets, is against the law of arms; and come
next to your scurrilities, those'Stink-pots of your offen
sive war.
As the CLERGY ofthe established church haye been
more particularly watchful in what is yet the common
cause of all, the interests of Ckristianity,.. and most
successful in repelling the insults of its enemies, they
have fallen under the heaviest load of your calumny
• Letter to Dr.'Waterland, p. 52, S^ seq.
i 1 ^et. ii. 16. and

THE FREE-THINKERS. 161
fthd slander. With unparalleled licence, you have
gone on, representing them as debauched,^ avaricious,
proud, vindictive, ambitious, deceitful, n-religious,
and incorrigible. " An order of men profligate and
abandoned to wickedness, inconsistent with the good
of society, irreconcileable enemies to reason, and
conspirators against the liberty and property of man
kind*." To fill up your common-place of slander, the most
inconsistent qualities have been raked together to de
form them : qualities that could never stand together
but in idea; I mean, in the mishapen ideas of a
Free-thinker. The Order is now represented as most contemptible
for their politics; ever in the wrong, and under a
fatality of continued blunders, attendin^them as a
curse: But anon, we are told of their deep-laid
schemes of a separate interest, so wisely conducted, as
to elude the policy of Courts, and baffle all the wisdom
of Legislatures.
Now they are a set of superstitious bigots, and
fiery zealots, prompt to sacrifice the rights of huma
nity to the interests of Mother-Church: but now
again, they are Tartufes witkout religion; Atheists
and Apostates witkout faitk or law.
This moment, so united in one common confederacy
as to make their own Church-policy the cause of God :
• Rights of the Christian Church, and Christianity as old as
the Creation, passim.
Vol. I. M But,

163 DEDICATION (1738) TO
But, the next, so divided, that every man's hand i^
against his brotiier, tearing and worrying one another,
to the great scandal of the charitable autiior of the
Discourse of Free-tjiinking. ,
But it is to be hoped, a^ ihe evidence is so ill laid
together, the accusation may be groundless.
But why do I talk of the Clergy, wben there is hot
one, however otherwise esteemed by, or related to you,
that eao escape your slander, if he happen to discover
the least inclination for that cause, against which you
are so virulently bent? Mr, Loeke, tbe honour of this
age, and the instructor of the future, shews us, in the
treatment he received from his friend and from his
pupil, what a believer is to expect from you. It was
enough to provoke their resentment, that he had
shewn ihe reasonableness qf Christianity ; and had
placed all his hopes of happiness in another life.
The intimacy between hira and Mr. Collins is well
known. Mr. Collins seeraed to idolize ^fr. Locke
while living J and Mr. Locke was confldent Mr. Colliiis
would preserve his memory when dead*\ But be
chanced to be mistaken : For no sooner was he gone,
than Mr. Collins publicklyf insults a notion of his
honoured friend concerning \h,Q possibility of conceiv
ing kow matter might first be made and begin to be :
* " I know you loved me living, and will preserve my memory
" now I am dead," says he in his letter to be delivered tb Mr,
Collins at his death.
•f- Answer to Df. Clarke's third Defence of his Letter to
Mr. Dodwell, i.t the e^nd. And

THE FREE-THINKERS. 163
-And goes affectedly out of the way to shew his gcftjd
'will to his memory.
The nof)fe d,uthor of fke Cha^'dcteristics had re-
wived* part of his education from that great philosb-»
pher: And it must be owned> that this Lord had
many excellent qualities, both as a man and a writer*
He was temperate, chaste, honest, and a lover of his
'country. In his writings he hath sheXvn hoV4argeIy
¦he had imbibed the deep sense, and how naturally he
"could copy the gracious manner ef Plato. HoW far
Air. Locke ccAitributed to the Cultivating these qualities,
I will not enquire: But that inveterate rancour which
fie indulged against C%?75^zam/?/f, itis certain, he had
*tot from Ms master. It was Mr. Locke's Iqve of it
that seems principally to have exposed hira to his
pupil's bitterest insults. One of the most precious
i'emains of the piety of that excellent man, are his
last words to Mr. Collins: " May you live long and
^' happy, 8^c. all the use to be made of it is, that this
" world is a scene qf vanity, that soon passes away,
" arid aj-ordsfto solid satLfaction,, hut the coinscious-
" ness of well doing, and the hopes of another
" LIFE. This is what I can sa.y by experience,- and
" what you will find when you come to make upyour
^' accountf ." One would think, that if evei the parting
breath of pious men, or the last precepts of dying
philosophers, cbuld claim reverence of their survivors,
this noble monument of friendship, and rieligion, had
been secure firom outrage. Yet hear, in how unworthy,
* See Bibl. Choisi'e, torn. vi. p. 343.
t Am.ongst his letters published by DeSmaizeaux.
M 2 how

164 DEDICATION (1738) TO
how cruel a manner, his noble disciple apostrophizes
hira on this occasion : " Pkilosopher! let me hear
" concerning life, what the right notion is, and what I
" am to stand to upon occasion; that I may not,
" when life seems retiring, or kas run itself out to the
" verif dregs*, cry vanity ! condemn the world,
" and at the same time complain that life is short
" AND PASSING. For virhy so skort indeed, if not
" found sweet? "Why do I complain both ways?
" Is vanity, mere vanity, a happiness; or can misery
*' pass ceway too soonf ?" Here the polite author had
the noble pleasure of ridiculing the philosopher md
the Psalmist X together. But I will leave the strange
reflexions, that naturally arise from hence, to the
:^eader; who, I am sure, will be beforehand with me
in judging, that Mr. Locke had reason to condemn a
world tliat cast him upon such & friend and pupil% But
• Mr. Locke wai then in his 73d year.
+ Characteristics, vol. i. p. go's, 3d ed.
} Man is like to vanity: His days are as a shado'w ihat passeth
away. Psal. cjdiv. 4. -
II The noble writer did not disdain to take up with those vulgar
talurnnies which Mr. Locke had again and again confuted,
" Some even (says he, Chatact, vol. i. p. 80. 3d ed.) of our most
" admired modem philosophers had fairly told us, that virtue
" and vice had, after all, no other law or measure than mere
" fashion and vogue." The case was this : When Mr. Loch
reasoned against innate ideas, he brought it as one argument
against them, that virtue and' vice, in many placles, were not re
gulated by the nature of things, which they must have been, were
there such innate ideas; hut by mere fashion and vogue. Is this
then fairly told of our admired riiodern philosopher ? But it was
crime enough that he laboured to overthrew innate ideas; thing*
that the noble author understood to be the foundation of his
7 . moral

THE FREE-THINKERS. 165
But to go on, and consider tiie nature of this abuse
of the Clergy : It is not only an affront to Religion,
which, by your practice, you seem to regard as one
of the essential branches of literary liberty ; but like
wise, an insult on civil Society. For while there is
such a thing as a Ckurch establisked by law, its
Ministers must needs bear a sacred, that is, a public
character even on your own principles *. To abuse
them, therefore, as a body, is insulting the State which
protects them. It is highly injurious likewise, because
a Body-politic cannot preserve the reverence neces
sary for the support of government, longer than its
public officers, m hether civil pr religious, are treated
with the regard due to their respective stations f.
And
moral tense. (See vol. iii. p. •214.) In vain did Mr. Locke inces
santly repeat, that " the divine law is the only true touchstone of
" moral rectitude." This did but increase his pupil's resentment,
who had all his faculties possessed with the moral ssmse, as
** the only true touchstone of moral rectitude." But the whole
Essay itself, one of the noblest, and most original books in.the
world, could not escape his ridicule : " In reality (says he, vol. i.
" p. 299.) how specious a study, how solemn an amusement, is
**. raised from, what we call philosophical speculations ! Tbe
" formation of ideas ! their compositions, comparisons, agreement
" and disagreement ! — Why do I concern myself in speculations
" about my ideas ? What is it to me, for instance, to know what
" kind of idea I can form of space } Divide a solid body, etc."
and so he goes on in Mr. Locke's own words ; And lest the
reader should not take the satire, a note at the bottom of the page
informs as, that " these are tbe words of the particular author
" cited." Bat the invidious Remark on this quotation..Sttrpasses
all credit. Thus the atomist, or Epicurean.
• " They also that have authority to teach, etc, are public
ministers." Leviathan, p. 124, London. 1651. 4to.
vai^iut, Kcii heirv(iu. Ant. Scrip, apud Stob. de rep. Serm. 41,
p. 270. Tiguri, 1559, fol, circa iinem,
M3

i66 DEDICATION (17.38) TO
And here, your apology, when accused of using hol^
Writ irreverently, is out of doors. You pretend that
the Charge is dismgenuous, because it takes for granted
the thing in dispute. But in the case before us, it is
agreed, that the Ministers of the established worship
have a sacred, that is, a public charapte^
Out ofyour own mouths likewise, are you condemned
A few instances there are in the first ages of Christi
anity, of something resembling this misconduct; where
the intemperance of private zeal nqvy and. then gave.
the affront to the national religion. But who are they
that so severely censure this disorder*? that raise such
tragic outcries against the factious spirit of primitive
Christianity ? Who, Gentlemen, but Yourselves \
The very raen who, out of spite and wantonness, daily
persist in doing what a misguided, devotion, now and
tlicn, though rarely, betrayed a martyr to. couunitt.
But would you read Christian antiquity with equal
minds, you would qot want examples of a better con-,
duct. For in general the Apologists for the Christian
faith observed a decency and moderation becoming
the truth and importance of the cause they had fo sup-
* " The list of ^Martyrs consisted, I belieye, of those wJiq
" suffered foi: breaking the Peace. The primitive clergy were,
" under pretence of Religion, a very Lawless Tribe." \,. Boling
broke, vol. iv. p. 434.,
t In the LXth canon of the council of Eliberis, held abo'ut
twenty years before the council of Nice, it is decree(l, that they
who were slain by the Gentiles for breaking down thjiir idols,'
should not be received by t}ie church into thp number' of Martyrs,
since neither the, precepts of ths Gospel nor the practice of the
Apostles g:ivfe any countenance to such licentious behaviour. . .
port.

THE FREE-THINK«RS. 167
port. We need only look into Lactantius for the
niodesty of their conduct in this respept.
This eloquent Apologist, who wrote in an age
which would have indulged greater liberties, giving in
his divine institutions, the last Stroke to expiring
paganism; where he confutes the national Religion,
spares as much as possible the Priests; but in expos
ing their Philosophy, is not so tender of their Sophists:
For these last having no public character, the State
was not concerned to have them managed. Such, I
6ay, was the general behaviour of the first Chris
tians, Nor can you plead, in your excuse, any other neces
sity, than that inseparable from a weak cause, of com
mitting this violence. The discovery of truth is so
far from being advanced by it, that, on the contrary,
it carries all the marks of design to retard the search,
when you so industriously draw off the reader's atten
tion from the Cause, by diverting him at the expenee
of the Advocate^
It is true, that at what time the Clergy so far forgot
the nature of their office, and of the cause they were
appointed to defend, as to call in the secular arm to
support their arguments against wrong opinions, we
saw, without much surprise or resentment. You,
Gentlemen, in like delusion, that any raeans were hyy-
ful in support of truth, falling without scruple to
affront the Public (then littie disposed to give you aa
equal hearing) by the abuse of a Body, whose private
interests the State had indiscreetly espoti§pd. For
M 4 where

!68 DEDICATION (1738) TO
where was the wonder, when Government had assumed
too much, for those who were oppressed by it, to allow
it too littie ? You thought this a fair return ; and
your candid enemies confessed, that some indulgence
was to be given to the passions of men, raised and
enflamed by so unequal a treatment. But now^ that
the State hath withdrawn its power, and confined the
Administration within its proper office ; and that tiiis
learned Body haXh publicly disclaimed- its assistance^
it will surely be expected, that You, likewise, should
return to a better mind, and forsake a practice inso
lently continued, without any reasonable pretence of
fresh provocation.
Your last abuse. Gentlemen, of the liberty of the
press, is a certain dissolute habit of mind, regardless
both of truth and falsehood, which you betray in all
your attacks on Revelation. Who that had not
heard of your solemn professions of the love qf
liberty, qf truth, qf virtue, of your aim at the
honour qf Go(I, and good of men, could ever believe
you had any thing of this at heairt, when they see
that spirit of levity and dissipation whiph runs through
all ypur writings.'* , .
That you may nqt say I slander ypu, I will produce
those marks in your works, on which I have formed
my Recusation of this illiberal temper.
, 1. The first is an unlimited buffoonry; which
suffers no test pr criterion to your ridicule, tp shew us,
yahea ypu are in jest, ^nd vy^hen in earnest. -
2. An

THE FREE-THINKERS, 165
3, An industrious affectation in keeping your true
character out of sight; and in constantly assuiping
some new and fictitious personage,
3. To support your chicane, an unnatural mixture
of the Sceptic and Dogmatist.
And here, Gentiemen, in illustrating these three
circumstances of your guilt, one might detect all your
arts of controversy, and easily reveal the whole,
mystery of modern Free'thinking. But the limits
of tliis address will only permit me in few words to
describe the general nature of each; in order to shew,
how certain an indication they are of the turn of mind
of which I accuse you.
1. The illimited, undistinguishable iront,
which affords no insight into the author's meaning,
or so much room as to guess what he would be at, is
our first note. This, which is your favourite figure of
speech, your noble Apologist owns to be " a dull
" sort of wit which amuses all alike*." Nay, he even
ventures to pronounce it " a gross, immoral, and
" illiberal way of abuse, foreign to the character of a
" good writer, a gentieman, or man of worth f." What
pity, if he should chance to fall under his own cen
sure! Yet this is certain, he hath so managed his
good humour, that his admirers may always find a
handle either to charge us with credulity, or want of
charity, determine as we will of his true and real
* Charact. vol. i. tract ii. part i. § 3.
•^ Vol. iii. Miscel. iv. c. 2. sentiments.

170 DEDICATION (1738) TO
sentiments. However, tbe noble writer bath not aggra.
vated this folly, in the character he hath given of it :
For, here forgetful of your own precepts, (your com
mon-place topic against publjc instructors) while you
prescribe ridicule to be so managed, as to skew it tends
to a serious issue ; you practise it so indiscriminately, as
to make one believe you were all the time in jest. While
you direct it to unmask formal hypocrisy, you suffer
it to put sober truth out of countenance ; and while
you claim its aid, to find out what is to be laughed at
in every thing, you employ it to luring in every thing
to be laughed at,
That a restraint on free inquiry, will force
writers into this vicious manner, we readily allow.
Under these circumstances, such a key to ridicule as
just writing demands being unsafe ; and the only way
men have tp escape persecution being to cover and
intrench themselves in obscurity; it is no wonder that
ridicule should degenerate into the buffoonry which
amuses all alike : As in Italy, which gave birth to this
degenerate species of writing, it is the only way in
which the poor crampt thinking zvretches^ can discharge
a free thought. But in Great Britain, happily for
Truth, and You, philosophy is at her ease; and
you may lead her safely back to Paganism, through
all the ancient modes of doubting, objectint^, anc|
refuting. It is difficult, therefore, to assign any other likely
cause pf this extravagance, than that vicious levity of
spirit, I have charged upon you. For as Man is
formed by nature with an incredible appetite for
Truth;

THE FREE-THINKERS. lyi
Truth ; sp his stipngest pleasure, in the enjoyment,
arises from the' actual communication of it to others,
Without this, it would be a cold purchase, would ab
stract, ideal, solitary Truth; and poorly repay the
labour and fatigue of the pursuit. Amongst the
Ancients, who, you will allpw, had high notions of
^:his SOCIAL SENSE, it was a saying recorded by
Cicero with approbation, " that even heaven would
" be no happiness, to hira who had not some com-
^' panion or social Spirit to share, with him in the
*- pleasure of contemplating the gi'eat truths of nature
" there revealed unto him." " Si quis in coelum
" ascendisset, naturamque mundi, et pulchritudinein
" siderum perspexisset, insuavem illam admirationent
" ei fore ; quas jucundissiraa fuisset, si aijquem, cui
*' narraret, habuisset*." Seneca goes yet further:
'' Nee me uUa res delectabit, licet exinriia sit et salu-
" taris, quam mihi uni sciturus sim. Si cum hac
" exceptione detur sapientia, ut illam inclusam teneam,
" nee enunciem, rejiciam : nullius boni, sipe socio^
*' jucunda possessio estf.'' It was this passion which
gave bkth to writing, and brpught literary coraposition
ito an art; whereby the Public was made a sfiarer in
those iraportant truths, which particulars had with so
much toil excogitated for its use and entertainraent.
The principal object therefore of an author, while his
passions are in their right state, must needs be to deliver
his sentiments and opinions with all possible clearness-
so that no particular cast of composition, or turn of
expression, which he held conducive to the embellish-
* De Amicltia. Edit. Oxon. 410, T. III. p. 349 et 50.
t Epf.vj, ment

172 DEDICATION (1738) TO
ment of his work, be suffered to throw an ambiguity
on his propositions, which might mislead the reader in
judging of his real sentiments. To such a one,
nothing can be a greater mortification than to find
that this his principal purpose was defeated.
But when, on the contrary, we see a writer, so fer
from discovering any thing of this care, that an air
of negligence appears in every thing he delivers ; a
visible conterapt of his reader's satisfaction ; to which
he prefers a dull malicious pleasure of misguiding him
in the obscurity of an illipited ridicule ; we cannot
possibly avoid concluding that such a one is far gone
in this wretched depravity of heart
2. Another mark, is your perpetually assuming
some PERSONATED CHARACTER, as the exigence of
chicane requires. For the dispute is to be kept on
foot ; and therefore, when in danger of coming to an
issue, a new personage is to be assumed, that the
trial of skill may be fPught over again with different
weapons. So that the modern Free-thinker, is a perfect
Proteus, He is now a Dissenter, or a Papist; now
again a Jew or a Mahometan ; and, when closely pressed
and hunted through all the shapes, he at length starts
up iq his genuine form, an Infidel confessed*. .
Indeed where the Magistrate hath confined the
liberty of free debate, to one or twp Professions of
belief, there an unlicensed writer bath no way of
publishing his speculations, but under the cover of
• Mr.Cullins, one

THE FREE-THINKERS. 173
one of these authorized Sects. But to affect tiiis
practice when the necessity is over, is licentious and
iminoral. For the personated character, only arguing
ad kominem, embroils, rather than directs us, in the
search of truth ; has a natural tendency to promote
scepticism; and if not this, yet it keeps the dispute
from ever coining to an issue ; which is attended with
great public inconveniencies. For though the dis
covery of speculative truth be of much importance
to the perfection of man's nature, yet the studious
lengthening out literary debates is pernicious to Society,
as Societies are generally formed. Therefore, though
the good of mankind would set an honest man upon
publishing what he supposes to be discoveries ia
truth ; yet the same motive would oblige him to take
the fairest, and most direct road to their reception.
But I would not have it thought, by this, that I
condemn the assuming a personated character on ail
occasions whatsoever. There are seasons when it is
fair and expedient. When the dispute is about the
PRACTICAL application of some truth to the good of
a particular society; there it is prudent to take up a
suitable character, and to argue ad hominem. For
there, the end is a benefit to be gained for that society;
and it is not of so great moment on what principles
the majority is prevailed upon to make the society
happy, as it is, that it should speedily become so. But
in the discovery of abstract speculative truth,
the affair goes quite otherwise. The business here is
demonstration, not persuasion. And it is of the essence
of truth, to be made appear and shine out only by its
pwn lustre. A familiar

i74 DEDICATION (1738) TO
A familiar example will support this observation;
Our great Brifish philosopher, writing for religiouB
liberty, combats his intolerant adversary, all the way,
with bis own Principles; well knowing that, in such a
time of prejudices, arguments built on received opinions
would have greatest' weight, and make quickest im
pression on the body of the People) whom it was his
business to gain. But the method he employed in
defending mere speculative truth was very different.
A Prelate of great name, was pleased to attack his
Essay concerning Human Understanding ; whOj though
consummate in the learning of the Schools, yet
happened at that time to apply his principles so very
aukwardly, as gave our Philosopher the most inviting
opportunity of turning them against him. An advan*
tage most to the taste of hira who contends only for
victory t but he contended for truth ; and was too
wise to think of establi^iug it on falsehood ; and tod
honest to affect, tiiuraphing over Error by any thing
but by its Opposite.
You see then, Gentleraen, you are not likely td
escape by this distinction ; the dispute with you is
about speculative trutk : Yourselves take care to
give the world repeated information of it, as often as
you tliink fit to feign an apprehension of the Magis^
trate's resentment
But of as little use as this method, of the persomtcA
character, is, in itself, to the just end of controversy;
you generally add a double share of disingenuity .in
conducting it. Common sense, as well as Common
honesty, requires tiiat he who assumes a personate character

THE FREE-THINKERS. 175
cJiaracter should fairly stick to it, for that turn, at
least. But we shall be greatly deceived, if we pre
sume on so much condescension : the late famous
author of The Grounds and Reasons qf the Christian
Religion, took it into his head to personate a Jew, in
the interpretation of some prophecies which he would
persuade us are not applicable to Jesus. The learned
Prelate, who undertook to answer him, having shewja
that those prophecies had no completion under the
Jewish dispensation, concludes very pertinently, that
f they did not belong to Jesus, they belong to no one.
What says our impostor Jew to thie ? One would be
astonished at his reply : Suppose they do not, says he,
/ am not answerable for their completion. What!
not as a Jew ? whose person he assumes, and whose
argument he borrows : which argument is not founded
on this. That the characters of completion, accordirig
to the Christian scheme, do not coincide and quadrate;
to which, indeed, the above answer would be pertinent ;
but on this, that there are complete characters of the
completion of the prophecies, under the Jewish
eeconomy ; and therefore, says the Jew, you are not
to look for those raarks under the Christian. The
only reasonable way then of replying to this argument,
i* to deny, that there are such marks under the Jezoish
oeconoray; which if the Jeiv cannot prove, his objec
tion, founded on a prior completion, is intirely over
thrown. Instead of this, we are put off w ith the cold
buffoonry of, / am not obliged to Jind n meaning for
your propkecies.
3. The third mark of this abandoned spirit, is that
unnatural mixture of the Sceptic and Dogma-
'• TIST,

176 DEDICATION (1^38) TO
I'isT, which so monstrously variegates your mi^hapefj'
Ivorks. I do not mean by it, that unreasonable temper
of mind, wbich distinguishes the whole class of Free*
thinkers; and suffers you, at the same time that yon
affect much sc&pticism in rejecting Revelation, to
dogmatize very positively on some favourite points of
civil tradition. The noble author, your Apologistj
could not forbear to ridicule his party for this foible*.
" It must certainly, says he, be something else than
" incredulity which fashions the taste and judgment
" of many Gentlemen, whom we hear censured as
" Atheists. Who, if they want a true Israelittsh
" faith, can make amends by a Chinese or Indian
" one. — Though Christian miracles may not so well
" satisfy them, they dwell with the highest content-
" ment on 'the prodigies of Moorish and Pagan
" countries."This is ill enough ; but the perversity, I speak of, is
much worse : and that is, when the same writer, on
different occasions, assumes the Dogmatist and Sceptic
on the same question ; and so abuses both Characters,
in all the perversity of self-contradiction.
For instance, how common is it for one of Your
writers-, when he brings Pagan antiquity to contradict
and discredit the Jepish, to cry up a Greek historiart
as an evidence, to which Nothing ban be objecteH?
An imperfect hint from Herodotus, or Diodorus,
though one lived a thousand, and the other fifteen
hundred years after the case in question, picked up
• Characteristics, vol. i. p. 345. edit; 3. ' "¦
from

THE FREE-THINKERS. 177
from any lying traveller; the one met with in his rambles,
or the other found in his collections, shall now out
weigh the circumstantial History of Moses, who wrote
of his own people, and lived in the times he wrote
of But now turn the tables, and apply the testimony
of these Writers, and of others of the best credit of the
same nation, to the confirmation of the Jewisk history,
and then nothing is more uncertain and fallacious than
classical Antiquity. All is darkness and confusion :
then we are sure to hear of,
 Quicquid Graecia mendax
Audet in historia. - - *
Then Herodotus is a lying traveller, and Diodorus
Siculus a tasteless collector.
Agam, when the choice and separation ofthe Israel"
ites for God's peculiar People, is to be brought in ques
tion, and made ridiculous, they are represented as the
vilest, the most profligate, and perverse race of men :
then every indiscreet passage of a declamatory Divine
is raked up with care to make them odious ; and even
the hard fate of the great historian Josephus pitied,
thathe had " no better a subject than such an illiterate^
" barbarous, and ridiculous people* "
But when the Scripture-account of the treatment,
which the Holy Jesus met with from them, is thought
fit tobe disputed; these Jews are become an humane
and , wise, Nation; which never interfered , vvith the
teachings of sects, or the propagation of opinions, but
* Discourse of Free-thinking, p. 157.
Vol. I. N where

178 DEDICATION (1738) TO
where the public safety was tiiought to be in danger
by seditious doctrines.
But so it is, even witii the Bible itself, and ks best
interpreter, human reason. It is generally allowed
that the Author of the Discourse of Free-thinking,
and of the Grounds and Reasons of the Christiaa
Religion, was one and the same person. Now it being
to this man's purpose in the first pamphlet, to blast
tiie credit of tiie book in general, as a rule of faith,
the Bible is represented as a most obscure, dark,
incomprehensible collection of multifarious tracts. But
in his discourse of The Grounds, etc. where * he is to
obviate tl:e reason ofthe difficulty in explaining ancient
Prophecies, drawn from the genius of the Eastern
style, sentiraent, and manners ; this very book is, on a
sudden, become so easy, plain, and intelli^ble, that no
one can possibly mistake its meaning.
Again, the same Writer, where, in his Essayi cm'
cerning the Use of Remon, he thinks fit to discredit
the doctrine of tiie ever blessed Trinity, and other
mysterier of the Christian Faith ^ represents buman
reason as omniscient, and the full measuise of aH
things : but when flie proof of the itmnatmedif§'^ tht
soul, from the qualities of matter and spirit, is
to be pbstinately opposed, the scene is shifted^ and we
are presented with a new face of things; then Reason
becomes weak, staggering,, and impoteirt: then wi
know not but one quality may be another quality; oaet
* Discourse of Free-thinking, p. 68. and of the Grounds an*
Heasons ofthe Christian Religion, p. 81, 82.

THE FREE-THINKERS. 179
mode, another mode; Motion may be consciousness;
and Matter sentient *.
These, Gentlemen, are the several ways in which
you have abused the liberty of the press. One
might defy you, witii all your good will or invention,
to contrive a new one, or to go further in the old ; You
have done your worst. It is time to tiiink of growing
better. This is the only inference I would draw from
your bad conduct. For I am not one of those who
say you should be disfranchised of the Rights ySd
have so wantonly and wickedly^ abused. Natural
rights were less precariously bestowed: the Civil,
indeed, are frequently given on the condition of the
Receiver's good behaviour. And this difference, in
the security of the possession, is founded in the plainest
reason. Natural rights are so necessary to our Bein^
that, without them. Life becomes miserable ; but the
Civil only contributing to our easier accommodation,
in some circumstances of i^may be forfeited without
injury to our common Nature.
in a \vord then, all that we desire is your amend
ment ; without any sinister aim of calling upon the
Ma^strate to quicken your pace. So I leave you, as
I dare say will He, to 3-ourselves> Nor let any good
man be above measure scandalized at your feuilts ; or
more impatient for your reformation^ than mere charity
demands. I do not know what panic the present
growth of Infidelity may have thrown some of 1:^ into:
1, for my part, confide so much ip the goodness of our
Cause, that I too could be tempted to laugh in niy turn,
• See his Answers to Dr. Clarke,
N a while

i8o DEDICATION (i73'8.)
while I thiiik of an bid story told us by Herodotus*,
ofyour favourite Egyptians ; of whom you are like
to hear a great deal in the following work. With this*
tale I shall beg lea^e to conclude my long address
unto you.
He tells us then, that at what time their Deity^ the
Nile, returns into his ancient channel; and the
husbandmaii hath committed the good seed to the
opening glebe, it was their custom to turn in whole
droves of Swine ; to range, to trample, root up, and
destroy at pleasure* And now nothing appeared but
desolation, while the ravages of the obscene herd had
killed every chearful hope of future plenty. When on
the issue, it was seeri, that all their perversity and dirty
taste had effected, was Only this ; that the seed took
better root, incorporated, more kindly with the soil,
and at length shot up in a more luxuriant and abundant
harvest

I am,

Gentlemen, ete.

* Lib* ii. c. 14. Vid. Plutarch. Symp. 1. iv. Prov,, 5. The
learned Gale cannot be reconciled to thU kind of husbandry. H«;
is therefore for having the word ^Ys, used by Herodotus, not to
signify twine, but totis or' heifers. His authority for this use of the
word is Hesychius. But Plutarch is a much better for the otber
signification, who in his Symp, quoted above, speaking to thfe
question nsTcgo* of 'louJaroi o-eSofteyiu, rvt ut, etc. mentions this very,
circumstance of till,age from Herodotus, and understands by
Ss swine, iTie 4ruth of the matter seeiiis to be this, Hesychius
found that ?;, in some obscure province or other, meant' a Heifer,
as xan-f®. amongst the Tyrrhenians, we aro told, meant s, goatj
and so put it down to inrich his dictionarj wjtb an unusuaif
signification, ' ...

POSTSCRIPT TO THE
DEDICATION TO THE FREE-THINKERS;'
IN THE EDITION OUF
1766,
A PoET) and a Critic *, of equal eminence, have
concurred, though they did not start together, to censur§
^hat was occasionally said in this' Dedication (as if i^
}iad been addressed to them) qf the use and abuse qf
Ridicule. The Poet was a follower of Lord Shaftes*
Jbury's fancies; the Critic a follower of his own.
Both Men pf Taste, and equally anxious for the well-i
doing of Rit)icuLE. I have given some account
of the latter in a note of the Dedication f. The other
Tvas too full of the subject, and of himself, to be dis
patched with so little ceremony : he inust therefore
iundergo an examination apart.
Since it is (say he) beyond all contradiction evident,
that we kave a natural sense or feeling o/" Me ridiculous,
and since so good a Reason may be assigried to just fy
tke Supreme Being for bestowing it ; one cannot
without astonishment reflect on tke conduct qf
those Men who imagine it for the service of true
Religion to vilfy and blacken it without distinc-
• See Pleasures of Imagination, and Elements, of Criticism.
I Page 157)1 &c, N 3 yiONj

i82 POSTSCRIPT to the DEDICATION
tion, and endeavour to persuade us, that it is never
applied but in a bad cause *. The Reason hfere given,
to shew, that Ridicule and Buffoonry may be properly
employed on serious and even sacred subjects, is
admirable : it is because we have a natural sense or
feeling ofthe lidiculous, and because no sensation was
given us in vain ; which would serve just as well to
excuse Adultery or Incest^ For have we not as
natural a sense ' or feeling of the voluptuous f Yes,
he will say, but this sense has its proper object, ©ir-
tuous love,. not adulterous or incestuous : And does he
think, I will not say the same df his sense of the
Hdiculous ? Its proper objects are^ not weight^ and
Sacred mattei's, but the civil ciistdms and commori
occurrences oflife. For he stretched a point when
he told the Reader, I vilified and bla(:lcene4 it without
distinction. The thing I there opposed, was the
abusive way of art and raillery on religious Subjects.
With as little regard tb Triith did he say, that I en
deavoured to persuade the Public, tkat it 'is' never,
'applied but in a bad cause : For, in that very place,
1 apolbgizied fbr an eminent writer who had applied it
ina^oraone! ' '"^ ' '' "' ',"'"  '
Ridicule (says he) is not [ i. e. ought not to be]
concerned with mere speculative Trutk and Falsehood:
Certainly. ' And, for that very reason I would exclude
it froni those* Subjects. What need ? he will say, foi"
when was' it so employed? When, does he ask?—
Wheh his Master ridiculed the Sulked of Mr. Locke's
Essay of Human Understandjng, in the man'
ner there mentioned. When the same noble person
f Pleasures of Imagination, ^p. 105, 106, ridiculed

TO THE FREE-THINKERS. ^ 183
ridiculed Revelation, in the merry Story of the
travelling Gentlemen, who put a wrong bias on their
Reason in order to Jbelieve right *.- 
He goes on. It is not in abstract Propositions on
Theorems, but in Actions and Passions, Good and Flvil^
Beauty and Deformity, that xvefind Materials for it ;
and all these Terms are relative, implying Approbation
or Blame. The reason here giveUv why, not abstract
Propositions, &c. but Actions and Passions, &c. are the
subject of ridicule is, because these latter are relative
Terras irnplying Approbation and Blame. But are not
^e fpriuer as mucl^ relative Terms, implying Assent
and Denial? And does not an absurd Proposition as
frequently afford ipaterials for Ridicule as an absurd
Action ? Let thp Reader determine by what he finds-
hefore him. — To ask then, (says he) whether Ridicule
f/e a Test of truth, is, in other words, to ask wketker
that which is ridiculous can be morally tr^e ; can be
just and becoming ; or whether that wk'ich isjifst and
becoming can be ridic^lo^s. A question that does not
deserve a serious answer, Howeyer, iq civility to his
Master, or rather indeed to his Master's Masters, thp
ancient Sophists, who, we are tpld f in the Ckaracr
teristics, said apmethihg yery like it, I shall giye it ^
serious answer. Fpr how, I pray, cpmes it tp pass,
that to ask, i^hetker ridictile ke a test of tr^th, is thf
same thing att foosk whether that which is ridieuloy^
can , be morally true ? As if, whatever thing the test^
of Ridicul^'was applied to, must needs be ridiculous.
^ Charact. Vol. III. Mi?e. 2. 0. 3. p,99.
t Tt was a saying of an ancient sage, 'f. tba^" jbwnour was the
^nly test of ridicule." Vol. I. p. 7^.

i84 POSTSCRIPT to the DEDICATION
Might not one ask. Whether the Copel* be a test of
gold, without incurring any absurdity in questioning.
Whether the matter to which' the Copel is applied be
standard gold. But he takes a test of truth wid d.
detection of error to be one and the same thing j and
that nothing is brought to this test but what was known
beforehand, whether it was true or false. His Master
seems much better x^ersed in the use of things t- Now,
ivkat rule or measure (says he) is tkere in tke worldf
except iil considering the real temper of things, to find
ivkich are truly serious, and wkich ridiculous ? Aiv^
haw can this be done, unless by applying the ridicuk
TO see avhether it avill bear?
But if the Reader be curious to see to the bottom
of this affair, he must go a little deeper. Lord
Shaftesbury, Ave find, Ava^ wilhng to know, ^.s every
honest man would, Whether thpse things, which had
the appearance of seriousness and sanctity^ were
indeed Avhat they appeared; The way of coming to.
this knowledge had been hitherto by the test qf reason.
But this was too dull and tedious a road for this lively
genius. He a^ouM go a shorter and a pleasantet way
to work, arid do the business by ridicule; given uS,
as his Disciple tells us, to aid the tardy steps qf reason.
This the noble Author would needs apply, to see
wketker the appcdrances would bear the TcruCk. Now
.it was this ingenious expedient, to which I thought
I had cause to object. ForNvhen he had applied this
TowcA, and that that, to which itAvas applied,' was
ibund to endure it, what reparation could he make to
Copella, It. in English, a test,
(i;haract.Vol.I. p.iii.'
7mh

TO THE FREE-THINKERS. i8s
Truth, for thus placing her in a ridiculous and idle
light, in order only, as he pretended, to judge rightly
of her ? Oh, for that, said his Lordship, she has the
amends in her own hands : Let her rally again ; for
why should Jair Honesty be denied tke use qf his
Weapon * ? To this so Avanton a liberty Avith sacred
Truth, I thought I had many good reasons to oppose ;
and so, it seems, thought our Poet likewise ; Or why
did he- endeavour to excuse his Master, by putting
another sense on the application qf ridicule as a Test,
which implies that the Truth or Falsehood of the
thing tried, is already known. But the shift is un^
lucky ; for while it covers his Master, it exposes.
himself For noAv it may be asked, Avhat need of
ridicule at all, after the Truth is known'; since tiie sole
use of a test, according to his Master, consists in
enabling lis to discover the true state x)f things?
But now he comes to the Philosophy of his Criti
cism on my absurdity. For it is most evidetjt (says he)
that as in a metaphysical Proposition offered- to the
Understanding for ifs assent, the faculty qf Reason
examines the terms qf the Proposition ; and finding
one Idea, which wqs supposed equal to another, to be in
fact unequal, qf consepience rgects the Proposition
as a falsehood: So in Objects offered to tfie Mind for
its esteem or applause, tke faculty of ridicule fueling
an incongruity in tke claim, y,rges the Mind to rgect.
it with laugkter and contempt. And no\v, how, does
this sublime accpuijit, of Reason and Ridicule, prpve
the foregoing Proposition to be absurd ? Just as much»
i suppose, as the height of St Paul's proves Grant
ham Steeple to stand awry,
5 Charact. Vol, I. p. laS. However,

J 86 POSTSCRIPT to the DEDICATION
However, if it cannot prove Avhat precedes, he will
try to make it infer what folloAvs : Wken therefore
(says he) we observe such a claim obtruded upon
Mankind, and the inconsistent circumstances carefully
concealed from tke eye of the Public, it is op- business^
ift^e matter be of importance to Society, to drag out
those latent circumstances, and, by setting them fu^,
in view, convince the World how ridiculous the Claim
is; and thus a double advantage is gained ;ybr wa
both detect the moral Falsehood sooner than in the
way of speculative enquiry, and impress the mind^
ef Men with a stronger sense qf the vanity and error
of its Authors. And this, and no tpore, is meant by
the application of Ridicule. A little mare, if we may
believe his Master : who says, it is not only to detect
Error, but to try Truth, that is, in his owii expression,
to see whether it will bear. But why all this ado?
for now, we see, nobody mistook what was meant by
the application of Ridicule, but himself — As tp Avhat
he said before, that Avhen Objects are offered to the
Mind for its esteem and applause, the faculty of
Ridicule, feeling an incongruity in the Claim, urges^
the Mind to reject it with laughter and contempt j
it is so expressed, as if he intended it not fqr the de-^
scription of the Use, but the essence qf Ridicule. Bu^
the dealers in tiiis Trash frequently urge the Mind to,
reject raany things with daughter and contempt, without
feeling any other incongruity, than in their oAvn pre
tensions to Truth and Honesty. And this our Poet
seeras to be no stranger to.
For now he comes to the point. — But it is stud tlie,
practice is dangerous, and may be inconsistent with,
the regard we owe to Objects of real ¦ dignity and' ex-.
11 eel lence.

TO THE FIIEE-THINKERS. 187
pelience. I answer, the pra ft ice, fairly managed,
can never be dangerous. Who 'ever thought any.
thing FAIRLY managed tp be dangerous! The
danger is in the abuse or unfair management. The
use of Stilletos and Poisons, fairly managed,
can never be dangerous. And yet this has not'
hindered aU wise States, wheneyer they have found at
violent propensity to the handling of these things
to forbid their prpraiscupus use, under the severest
penalties, to prevent abuse and unfair management.
However, he alloAvs at length, that Men may be
dishonest in obtruding circmnstances foreign to tke
Object ; and we may be inadvertent in allowing those
circumstances to impose upon us ; but  but what?
Why, tke sense of Ridicule alavays judges
right. And he had told us before, that this is a
natural sense, and bestowed upon us by tke supreme
Being, to aid our tardy steps in pursuit qf Reason.
Why, as he says, w=ho can Avithstand this? Nothing
can be clearer ! Writers may be dishonest ; Readers
may be misled; and, the Public judge Avrong. But
vlhat then, the sense qf ridicule always judges rigkt.
And Avhile Ave can support our Platonic Republic of
ideas, it signifies little what becomes of the People,
Jhe Feeces Romuli. And sp again it is in the use of
iPoisbhs : Men may be dishonest in obtruding them ;
and we inadvertent enough to be imposed upon. But
what thert? The Virtue of Poison always does its
kind. It is a natural power, and bestoxoed upon it ,
hy the supreme Being, to aid our tardy steps^ in pur*'
suit of Vermiri. — In truth, one would iraagine, by this
extraordinary argument, that the question was not of

188 POSTSCRIPT to the DEDICATION
the injury to Society by tiie abuse pf Ridicule, but of
the injury to Ridicule itself.
But let us hear him out : The Socrates of Aristo^
phanes is (it Avill be said) as truly a ridipulous cha^
racter as ever was drawn. True ; but it is not the
character of Socrates, the divine Moralist, and Fatheir
0f ancient Wisdotn. Indeed !— But then, if, like tha
true Sosia, in tbe otiier Coraedy, he raust bear the
blows of his fictitious Brother, Avhat reparation i^
there to injured Virtue, to tell us, that hC did not de
serve them ?
Again, — What then? Did the ridicule of th^
Poet hinder the Philosopher from detecting and dis-;
claiming those foreign circumstances which he had
falsely introduced into his -character, and thus render'
ing the Satirist doubly ridiculous in his turn ? See
here again ! all his concern, Ave find, is, les^ good
Raillery should be beat at its own weapons.' No,
indeed, I cannot see how it could possibly kinder tht
Philosopker from detecting and disclaiming. But
this it did, which surely deserves a little consideration,
it hindered the People from seeing what he had
detected and disclaimed — —A mighty consolatipn;^
truly, to the illustrious Sufiorer, that he disclaimed, the
Fool's Coat they had put upon him 1
But AA'hat is the Sacrifice of a Sp^rates noTj* and
then to secure to us the free use of that inestimably
blessing Buffoonry ? So thinks our Poet; when ali
the Answer he gives to so natural^ so compassionate,
^n olyection as tbi.s, — if nevertheless kad an il\
influence on tke mincls of tke People, — is telling us a
5tory of the Atheist Spinoza ; while tiie godlike
Socrates is left deserted, in the hands of his Judges j

TO THE FREE-THINKERS. 189
whither Ridicule, this noble guide of Truth, had
safely brought him.
But let us hear the concluding answer Avhich the
respectable Spinoza is employed to illustrate,  And
so (says he) lias the reasoning qf Spinoza made many
Atheists; he. has founded it indeed on Suppositions
utterly false ; but allow hiin these, and kis conclusions
are unavoidably true. And ifxoe must reject the use
if Ridicule because, by the imposition qf false circum
stances, things may be made to seem ridiculous, which
are not so in themselves, Why we ought not in the same
manner to rgect tke use of Reason, because, by pro
ceeding on false Principles, conclusions will appear
true which are impossible in Nature, let tke vehe-,
ment and obstinate Dectaimers against Ridicule
determine. "Nay, Ave dare trust it with any one ; whose coramon
sense is not all run to Taste. What! because
Reason, the guide of Life, the support of Religion,
the investigator of Truth, must be still used. though
it be continually subject to abuse; therefore Ridicule,
tiie paltry buffoon Mimic of Reason, must have the
same indulgence ! because a King must be intrusted
with Government, though- he may misuse his power ;
' therefore the King's Fool shall be suffered to play
the Madman! But upon what footing standeth this
extraordinary Claim? Why, we have a natural sense
ofthe Ridiculous; andthe Ridiculous has a natural
feeling off the Incongruous; and then  Avho can
-forljear laughing? If to this you add Taste, Beauty,
Deformity, Moral-sense, Moral-rectitude, Moral-
falsehood; you have then,, 1 think, the whole Theory
of tlie Ridiculous, But who Avould have imagined, tiiat

tgo POSTSCRIPT to the DEDICATION, &c.
that while he Avas defending Ridicule from the charge
-of ABUSE, he should be adding fresh exception^ to
his own Plea ? Not indeed, that the comment dis
graced the Text ; or that there was rauch Incongruity
in pleading for a fault he was just then committing,.
But so it i^, that, vvhere he is poetically marshalling the
follies of human Life, he places the Avhole body of
the Christian Clergy in the foremost rank* Amongst
such, who, he tells us, assume some desirable quality or
possession which evidently does not belong to tkem*i
" Odiers, of graver Mien, behold ; adorn'd
*^' With holy Ensigns, how sublime they move,
" And, bending oft their sanctimonious Eyes*
" Take homage of tiie Simple-minded Throng,
" Ambassadors of Heav'n'J"."
'^— But let it go for Avhat it is ; A poor joke of his
Master's J, and spoil'd too in the telling. The dulness
of the Ridicule will sufficiently dtone for the abuse of it.
• Page 49 t Page 96. J Charad. Vol. IIL p. 335,

Preface
TO TIIE FIRST EDITION OF
BOOKS I. II. IIL
OF THE DIVINE LEGATION OF MO§ESj
- 1738.

THE following sheets make tbe first volume of a
work, designed to prove the Divine origin of the
JEWISH religion. As the Author was neither in
debted, nor engaged to the Public, he hath done his
headers no injury in not giving them more ; and had
they not had this, neither he nor they, perhaps, had
esteemed themselves losers. For writing for no Party,
it is likely he will please none ; and begging no
Protection, it is more likely he Avill find none : and
he must have more of the confidence of a modern
Writer than falls to his share, to thihk of making much
way with the feeble effort of his own reason.
Writers, indeed, have been oft betrayed into strange
absurd conclusions, from I can't tell what obsolete
claim, which Letters have to the patronage of the
Great : a relation, if indeed tiiere ever were any,
long

192 PREFACE.
long since worn out and forgotten ; the Great now
seeming reasonably well convinced, that it had never
any better foundation tiian the rhetorical importunity
of Beggars.
But however this claim of Patronage may be under
stood, there is another of a more important nature ;
which is the Patronage of Religion. The Author
begs leave to assure Those who have no time to spare
from their attention on the Public, that the Protection
of Religion is indispensably necessary to all Govern
ments ; and for bis warrant he offers them the follow
ing volume ; which endeavours tb shew the necessity
of Religion in general, and of the doctrine of a
FUTURE STATE in particular, to civil Society, frpm
tiie nature of things and the universal consent of
Mankind. The proving this, I make no question,
many Politicians will esteem sufficient : But those who
are solicitous to have Religion true as well as useful,
the Author wiH endeavour to satisfy in the following
A?oIumes.

THE
DIVINE LEGATION OF MOSES
DEMONSTRATED.

BOOK I.

SECT. I.
THE Writers, in defence of revealed Religion,
distinguish their arguments into two sorts : the
one they call the internal, and the other the
external Evidence. Of these, the first is, in its
.nature, more siraple and perfect; and even capable of
derapnstration : while the other, made up of very dissi
milar materials, and borrpwing aid from without, must
needs have some parts of unequal strength with the
Test ; and, consequently, lie open to the attacks of a
•A^iilirig adversary. Besides, the internal evidence is,
by its nature, perpetuated ; and so fitted for all ages
and occasions : while the external, by length of time,
weakens and decays. For the nature and genius of
the .religion defended affording the proofs of the first
kind, these materials of defence are inseparable from
its existence ; and so throughout all ages the same.
VoL.L O But

194 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book!
But Time may, and doth, efface memorials independent
of that existence ; out of which the external evidence
is composed : which evidence raust therefore become
more and more imperfect, without being affected by
that Avhimsical and partial calculation, to which a
certain Scotchnutn* would subject itf- Nay, of such
use is the hrternal evidence, that, even the very best
of the external cannot support itself Avithout it : for
Avhen, for instamce, the supernatural facts done by the
founders of our holy faith, are unquestionably verified
. by human testimony, the evidence of their divinity
will not follow till the nature of that doctrine be exa
mined, for Avhose establishment they were performed.
Indeed, in the instance here given, they raust be in-
* Craig, Theologiae Christ. Principia Mathematica,
London, 1699, 4to.
t This gradual weakening of the external evidence hath
-in fact actually happened ; and was occasioned by the loss
•.of several ancient testimonies, both Pagan and Christian,
.for the truth of Revelation; v.'hich learned men, on several-
occasions, have frequently lamented. This is the only way,
I suppose, the external evidence can Aveaken. — As it is of
tbe nature of true Religion to suffer by time, so it is of th^
nattire of \he false to gain by it. " L'Antiquite convient
" h, la Religion (says the learned President de Montesquieu).
" pai'ce que souvent nous croyons plus les choses a mesure
". qu'elles. sent plus recuj^es ; car nous n'avons pas dans la
,." tete des idees accessoires tiroes de ces temps-la, qui puis-
" sent les con tradire." L' Esprit des Loix, lib. xxvi.- c. 2.
Jor whatever Religion, thus circumstanced, the Writer had
¦^ttien in his thoughts, he must needs suppose it to be a
'fiilse one; it being nonsens.e to suppose the true should
r^vsr be attended with any external evidence which argued
it of falseliood.. foi?ced

Sect. 1.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 195
forced in conjunction before any conclusion can be
drawn for the truth of the Revelation in question. But
were there no other benefit arising frora the cultivation
pf the internal evidence than the gaining, by if, a
more perfect knoAvledge of God's word ; tiiis, sure,
AA'ould be enough to engage us in a vigorous prosecu-
tioh of it. That this is one of its fruits I need not
tell such as are acquainted with its nature. And it is
not without occasion 1 take notice of this advantage :
for who, in this long controversy between us and the
Deists, hath not applied to certain advocates of Reve- "
iatipn, what was forraerly said of Arnobius and
Lactantius^ that they undertook the defence of Chris
tianity before they understood it ? A raisfortune which
probably, the more careful study of the internal
evidence would have prevented ; because no one,
well versed in tkat, could have continued ignorant of
iso important a principle, as that the doctrine of
redemption is of the very essence of CHRIS
TIANITY. NotAvithstanding these superior advan
tages, it hath so happened, that the internal evidence
hath been hitherto used as an introduction only to the
external: and A\hile by the latter, men have proved
pur Religion actually divine, they have gone no further
with the former, th&n to shew it worthy indeed of Such
original. What may have occasioned this neglect, is not so
easy to say. Perhaps it was because Writers have, in
general, iraagined that the difficulties of prosecuting
the internal method to effect, are not so easily sur
mounted as those which attend the other ; as supposing
that the Writer on the external evidence hath only
need of the usual provision of church-history, common
O 2 diligence,

igG THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book L
diligence, and judgraent, tobetorae mastef^ol his sub
ject; while the reasoner on tiie intfernal ^Y6of^ tnust^
besictes thesev have a thorough knowledge of hu-fflanf
Nature, civil Policy; the universal history of ^Mankind,
an exact -idea ef the Mosaic and Christian Dispen
sations cleared frora tte froth aiird groundgi of school-
subtilties, and ehutcb-systems J afldi, above all, should
he blessed Avith a eertaitf sagacity, to .investigate- th&
selations of huHnan aetions, throu^ all tlie combina-^
tioDS of natural, civil, and moral eomptexities.- WhaS
may suggest this eortclusion is, ¦their reflecting, that, id
fie external evidence, each circumstance, that irlakesi
for the truth of revealed Religion, is seen to* do so, as
soon a's known : so that the chief labour, here, is to*
search arid pick out sueb, and to place them in thei^
proper light and situation J hut that, in prosecuting
ihe internal evidence, the ease is widely different ; a
eireunistaace in the frame artd composition of thi^
Religion, which perhaps, some time or "other, may be!
discovered to be a DeiBonstration of its divinity, sha'U
l>e so far from being generally thought Assistant in its-
proof that ife shall be esteemed, by most, a prejudice
against it: of which, I suppose, the subject of thefoP
Jowing discourse will afford a- remaiFfcabfe' example^
And HOf wonder, that a Meligiofi of divine. oriMhak
eon's titu ted to serve many admirable ends of Provi-'
denc^, should-be full of such complicated mysteries, as^
filled the learned Apostle with astohishmeBl. ' Onthe'
other hand, this Religion beisg for the use ef man, Ave
need not despair,: when* we have- attairied a propel?^
.k.now}edge of man's nature, and- the dependencies'
ttereon, of raakiirg still growing discoveries, on tlie'
internal evidence, oi the diA^mty of itW original. ^^ ---
1 1 Noav,

Sect. 1.] OF MOSES' DEMONSTRATED. 197
Now, though all this may be true ; and tiiat, conse
quently, it Avould appear a childish arrogance in an
ordinary .svnter, alter having seen the difliculties attend
ing this method, , to hope to overcome them, by the
qualities here said to be required ; yet no , modest
searcher after truth need be discouraged. For there
are in revealed Religion, besides those interior marks
of truth, above described, which require the delicate
operation of - a great Genius aud master-workman to
bring out and poHsh, others also, no less illustrious, but
more uniA^ocal marks of truth, Avhich God hath been
pleased to impress upon his Dispensations ; A\-hich re
quire no great qualities, but humility, and love of truth,
in him, who , ivould from thence attempt
To vindicate the ways of God to Man.
' The Subject of this Discourse is one of those
illustrious marks ; from Avhich, the discoverer claims
no raerit frgm any long, learned, or laborious search.
It is honour igngugh for hira that he is the first who
brhigs it out to observation ; if he be indeed the first.
For the demonstration is so strong and beautiful,
and at the same trrpe appears to be so easyand simple,
that one cannot tell Ayhetiier the pleasure of the dis
covery, or the AVQijder that "it is noAv to make, be the
greater. The Medium, I employ, is the Omission of the
.^octrine of a future state of roAvards and puujshments,
in the laws and religion Moses delivered to the Jewish
people, By this, I pretend to carry the internal evidence
much further than usual ; even to the height of Avhich
it is capable, mpral demonstration.
03 Why

198 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book I.
Why I chuse to begin with the defence oi Mqscs,^
is from observing a notion to have spread very rn^ch
bf late, even amongst many who would be thought
Christians, that the truth of Christianity is indepen
dent of the jewisk Dispensation: a notion, which Avas,
till now, peculiar to the Socinians; who go so far as tp
maintain* tkat tke knowledge of the Old Testament is
not absolutely necessary for Christians : and, those^
who profess to think more soberly, are generally gone
into an opinion that the truth of the Jewish Rehgion is
irapossible to be proved but upon the truth of the
Christian, As to the first sort of people,' if they
really imagine Christianity hath no dependance oh
Judaism, they deserve our compassion, as being
plainly ignorant of the very elements of the Religion
they profess ; however suitable the opinion may be to
a modern fashionable notion, not borrowed from, but
the same with, the Socinian, that Christianity is only
the republication of tke religion of Nature. As for the'
inore sober, it is reasonable to think, that they fell
into the mistake from a vicAv of difficulties, in the
jewisk Dispensation, which they judged too stubborn
to be removed. I may pretend thento their thanks,
if I succeed, by coming so seasonably to their relief;
and freeing their reasonings from a vicious circle,
which Avould first prove the ckristian by the jexvish;
and then the jexmh, by the christian Religion, .
Why I chuse this medium, namely, the omission of
a future state in the Jewish Dispensation, to prove its
divine original is, - ¦ ....
* Cuper, advers. Tract. Theol. Polit. lib. i, Firstf

Sect.1.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 199
First, for the sake of the Deists : being enabled
hereby to shew thera, 1 . That tiiis very circum.stance
c^.Omission, which they pretend to be. such an. imper
fection, as makes the Dispensation unw-ortiiy the
Author to whom we ascribe it, is, in truth, a Demon
stration that God only could give it. 2. That t^ose
several important passages of Scripture, Avhicli they
charge with obscurity, injustice and contradiction, are,
indeed, full of light, equity, and concord, 3,. That
their high notions of the antiquity of the Religion and
Learning of , the ^Egyptians, Ayliich they incessantly
produce^ as their palmary argument, to confront and
overturn the history of Moses, do, in an invincible
manner, confirm and support it.
Secondly, For the sake of the Jeavs; who will, at
the ,satne time, be shcAvn, that the nature .of the
Theocracy here delivered, and tlie omission of the
doctrine of 9. future state in that Dispensation, evidently
obliges then) to look for a more perfect -revelation of
God's Will
Tliirdly, For the sake of the Socinians; who Avill
find, that Christianity agrees neither with itself, nor
with Judaism; neither with the Dispensations of God,
por the declared purpose of his Son's Mission, on
their principle, of its bping only a republication of th^
religion of Nature,
in this Demonstration, ¦ therefore, which we sup
pose very little short of mathematical certainty, and tp
which nothing but a mere physical possibility of the
contrary can be opposed, we demand only this single
O 4 Postitlatmn^

«00

THE DIVINE LEGATION. [Book I.
PostuUtum, tiiathatii all the clearness of self-evidence ;
namely, "« That a sldlful Law^ver, establishing a RefigJon,
" and civil Policy, acts with cfertain vicAirs', and for
"certain ends; and not capriciously, or withPdt
*' purpose or design."
This being granted, we erect our Demonstration on
these three very clear and simple propositions :,
1. " That to inculcate the doctrine of a
" future state of rewards and PDNlSHr
" MENTS, IS NECESSARY TO THE AA'^ELL-BEING

i2. " That all mankind, especially tre most,
" aa;ise and learned nations of ANTiQuniyj
" have concurred in believing' and
" teaching, that this doctrine was of
" such use to civil society.

3. " That the doctrine of a future state
of REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS IS NOT TO
BE FOUND IN, NOR DID MAKE PART OF.,
THE MOSAIC DISPENSATION."

It.

Propositions so clear and evident, that, one would
think, we might directly proceed to our Conclusiori,- •
THAT THEREFORE THE LAW OE MOSES IS OF
DIVINE ORIGINAL.
Which, one or both ofthe two following syllogisms
will evince. I. Whatsoever

^ct. 1.] OF MOSES, DEMONSTRATED. 20|
I. Whatsoever Religion, -.and' Society have no futui«
Stalke for their support, must be supported by, aa
^^tjraprdinary Provideuce. ,-.,i.->
The Jexi'ish Religion and Society had nP futurti
state for their support : ' ^ ^
Therefore, the Jewish Religion and Society Averc
' supported by an extraordinary Providence.
And again,
II. The ancient Lawgivers universally believed that
such a Religion could be supported only by an ex^
traordiriary Providence.
MosES, an ancient LawgiA'er, versed in all the
wisdom of Egypt, purposely instituted sUch a
Religion. '
j . Therefore, Moses believed his Religion was sup^
ported by an extraordinary Providence,
But, so capricious are men s passions, now for
PARADOX, and now for system, that these, with afl
their evidence, have need of a very particulai* defenjee ;
Libertines and Unbelievers denying the major pro
positions of both these Syllogisms ; and many Bigots
amongst Behevers, the minor of the first. These
passions, hovypver different with regard to the, objects
that excite |hem, and to the subjects in which they are
found, have this in ^ommon, that they never rise but
on the ruins of Reasor^. The business of the Reli
gionist being to estab\ish, i|' his Understanding be ,too
inuch narrowed, he contracts hiraself into System:
and that of the Infidel, to overturn; if his Avill be
depravec(,

202 THE DIVINE 'legation ^[BooI'I.
depraved, he, as naturally, rifns out into Paraddxel
Slavish, or licentious thinking,' the two extremes bf free
enquiry, shuts thera up from all instructive views,' or
makes theni fly out beyond all Teaspnablp; limits.
And as extremes fall easily into one another, Ave some-
tii^ies see the, opposite writers change, hands;: the.
infidel, to sheAV something like coherence in. his pa
radoxes, represents them as the several parts of a
system ; and the Religionist, to give a relish .to his st/s^
tem, powders it v^'ith paradoxes : in Avhich arts, twp
late Hibernians*, the heroes of ' thfeir several parties,
were Very notably practised and distinguished. ' ¦¦¦' V,'
It was not long then before I. found, that the, dis
covery of this important truth , Avould engage me ina
full dilucidationof the Premisses ofthe two Syllogisms:
the Major of both requiruig a scA'ere search into the
civil Polifcy, Religion, and Philosophy of ancient
tiraes ; and the ^inor, a detailed account of the nature
and genius of the Jewish Dispensation. The present
Volume t is destined to the. first part of this labour ; and
the following J, to the second. Where, in removing the
JObjections Avhich lie in our way, on both sides, avc
shall be - obliged to stretch the inquiry high and
vivde. But this, always, with an eye to the directioft
of our great master of reason §, to endeavour, through-
* See tiie discourse called Nazarenus— An Epistolary
IXfecourse concerning the Immortality of the Soul. — -r»
Dissertationes Cyprianicse, &c.
t Books L IL in. J Books IV, V. VL
I Uoqlier,.
mi.

iect. 2.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 203
out the body qf this discourse, that every former pa}^
thay give strength unto all that follow, and every
latter bring some light unto all before.

5ECT. IL
THE first proposition, that to inculcate th-b
.pOCTRINE OF A FUTURE STATE OF REAVARDS
AND PUNISHMENTS IS NECESSARA' TO THE WELL-
3BEING OF CIVIL SOCIETY, I shall cndeavour ta
prove, from the nature of man, apd the genius of civil
society. The general appetite ef self-preservation being most
indispensable to every animal, nature hath made it the
strongest of all. And though, in the rational, this
faculty alone might be supposed sufficient to ansAVCT
the end, for whJch that appetite is bestOAved on the
others, yet, the better to secure that end, nature hat^
given man, likewise, a very considerable share of the
same instinct, with Aihich she hath endowed brutes
So'admirably to provide for their preservation. Now
whether it was some plastic Nature that was here ia
fault, which Bacon says, knoxvs not how to keep a
'mean *, or, that it Avas all owing to the perA'erse use
of human liberty, certain it is, that, borne away with
the lust of gratifying this appetite, man, in a state
of nature, soon ran into very violent excesses ; and
never thought he had sufficiently provided for his OAvn
being, till he had deprived his fellpws of the firee
fnjoyment of theirs. Hence, all those evils of mutual
f. !^odum teiiere nescia est. Augm. Scient. violence^

a©4 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book,I,j
violence, rapine, atjd slaughter, which, in. a statej
Ijature, where all are equal, must pesds. he ahuncj^
Because, though man, in this state, was not without a']
law, which exacted punishment on evil doers, yet, thei
administi-ation of that law not being in comraon hands, _
but either in the person offended, who being a party '
would be apt to enforce tiie punishment to excess ; or
else in the hands of every one, ^s the offence was
against all, and affected the good of each not innn^-
diately or directly, would be executed remissly,. And
very ofterj, Avhere both these executors pf thel^AKjOf
nature Avere disposed, the one to be, impartial, aad, the
other not remiss in the administration of justicej they
would yet- want sufficient power to enforce it. Which
together would so much inflame the evils, above men
tioned, th^t they Avould soou becorae as general, and
as intolprable,, as the Hobbeist represents them in that
state to be, were it ijot for the restraining principle (4'
jiELicioN; which k^pt '^¦^cn .from running into. th§
confusion necessarily consequent on the principle of
inordinate self-love. But. yet Religion could pot
operate with sufficient efficacy, for ivant, as we, ob
served before, of a common Arbiter, who had impai'
tiality fairly to apply the rule of right, and ppwer tQ
enforce its operations. So that these, two principlk^
were in endless jar ; in Avhich, Justice generally came
by the worst. It was therefore found necessary to call
in Ihs CIVIL MAGISTRATE ^s the Ally of Religmtfn
to turn the balance.
Jura invent a meiu iryusti, fateore nec^sse est,
Tempora sifastosque veils evolvere mundi. Thus

Sfeci. atf' OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED, aor
n' Thus was Society invented for a reniedy- against
il^ti^; and a Magistrate, by mutual consent,
appointed, to give a sanction " to that common mea-
**¦ sure, to which, reason teaches us, that creatures
¦** of the same ratfk and species, promiscuously bom
i " to the same advantages of nature and to tlie use
"of the same faculties, have all an equal right*."
Wftere it is to be observed, tiiat ' though society pvo-
« tides for all those conveniencies and aecomraodations'
efamore elegant life, Avhieh man niust have been
t cpntent to have liv^ed Avithout, in a State of nature;
1 Jet it is more than pirobable tiiat these AA^ere never
l&ought of Avhen Society Avas first established '\ ; but
that they were the mutual violences and injustices, at
tength 'become intolerable, wbich set men upon con
triving this generous remedy : because Evil felt hath a
liiuch stronger influence on the mind than Good
ifeiafgiued ; and the raeans of reraoving the one is much
easier discovered, than the way to procure the other:
And this, by the wise disposition of the Creator ; the
avoiding pain being necessary to our nature ; not so,-
the procuring pleasure. Besides, the idea of those
unexperienced conveniencies would be, at^ best, very
* Locke* ' -
t Tbojigb the judicious Hooker ibinks those advantages
Were principally^ intended, Avben ipan fir^fr, entered into so
ciety : thiswas the cause, says be, of men's uniting themselves
tit first'into politique societies. EccL Pol.l. i. § lO. p.^5. 1. 1.
His master Aristotle, though extremely concise, scqims to
Hint, that this was but the secondary end of civil society,.
And that That was the first, wHich we make to be so. His
^ofds are : fivcftm fih iv rs f?v hcxtv, strcc SI t5 el g'w. Ppl._
lib.i. cap. 2. p. 396. B. Tom. 111. Paris, 1639. fol. ' - "^,
ebscure:

S0& THE DIVINE LEGATION ^ocm]
obscure : and how unable men would be, before trial,- 3
to judge that Society would bestOAV them, we na^
guess by observing, how little, even now, the gener^liiji
of men, who enjoy these blessings, know qr reflect
that they are o\Aing to society, or how it procures*
them ; because it doth it neitiier immediately .i?or
dkectiy. But they would have a very lively sense
of evils felt; and could see that Society; was the'
reraedy, because the very definition of the word woul^
teach them how it becoraes so- Yet becaiise mi}.
Society so greatly improves hunrian Hfe, this improve^
ment may be called, and not unaptly, the secondary;
end of that Convention. Thus, as Aristotle accurately
observes in the words below, that Avhich was at firstj
constituted for the sake of living, is carried on foi; thft
sake of happy living. f
This is further, seen frpm fact. For we find thosei
sa-vage. nations*, which happen to live peaceably out
of society^ have never once entertained a thou^tQ^
coming into it, though they perceive all the advantages
of that improved condition,, in tiieir civilized neigh-^.
hours, round about them.
Civil Society thus established, ffohi this time, as the?
poet sings,.
- -  '"_.¦.•  . _ _ _ dbsistere helld
Oppida ctepprunt mimire^ &; pon!efe I'eges,
^e quis fur es'stt, neii Idtro, neu quis adulter.
* See§ V. iv. z. Wherfe it is shewn, how it migh,t happetf
&atrnen,iu a state of nature, might live together in peace;'
diough we.hkve there given .the reasons .why they ver/!
rarely do. But

^Gt. 2.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 207
ftut as .before bare religion; was no preservative
against mora,l.,disorder§; so now, society alone,
5\'ould,he equally unable, to prevent thera.
^'I;' 1. Yor first, its laws can have no fiirther efficacy
than to restrain men from open transgression v- while
Avhat is done amiss in private, though equally .tending
to the' public hurt, escapes their animadversion;; and
raanj since his entering into Society, would have
^eatly im'pioved his practice in this secret Avay Pf
mischief For noAv an effectual security being pro
vided against open t;io/e«ce,.a;nd the inordinate principle
of self-love being still the same, secret craft Avas the
art to be improved ; and the guards of Society invit
ing men to a careless security, what advantages this
would aifwd to those hidden mischiefs which civil laws
could not censure, is easy to conceive.
2. But, secondly, tbe influence of civil Laws cannot,
in all cases, be extended even thus far, naraely, to
restrain oj&ew transgression. It cannot tken, when the
severe prohibition- of- one irregularity threatens, the ,
bringing on a greater : and this will always be the case
when the irregularity is owing to the violence of the
sensual appetites. Hence it hath come to pass, that
no great-and opulent Community could ever punish
f^nication, in such a sort as its ill influence on Society
was confessed to deserve: because it was always.
fpund, that a severe restraint df this, opened the way
to more flagitious lusts.
3. The very attention of civil Laws to their" prin
cipal object occasions, a further inefficacy in their
operations. To understand this we must, consider,' that .
the <;^re of the.St'ate is fox the whole, under Avhicli
individual

2oS THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book I.
individuals are considered but ih the second place, as
accessories only to ihat' wkole ; the consequencfe' of
which is, that, for the sake ofthe Aggregate, individuals
are sometimes left a^eglected ; wliich happen? when
general, rather than . particular views ingrpss.the
public attention. Now the care- of Religim.M' foT
particulars ; and a Whole has but the seooiid plac?
in its concern. But this is only touched upon,^
shew, ift passing, the natural remedy, for the defects
here explained.
4. But this was not all, there was a further inefficEKSy
in huraan Laws : the Legislature,' iii enquiring- into
the mutual duties of Citizens, arisiri'g ' from their
eriuality of condition, found those duties tO be of twb
kinds : the first, they entitied, the duties of perfect
OBLIGATION ; bccause civil Laws could readily, and
commodiously, and were^ of necessity, required^ to
enforce their observance. The. Other they called th.^
duties of IMPERFECT OBLIGATION ; not, that mo
rality does not as strongly exact theni, but because,
civil Laws could not conveniently take notice of thefUti ,
and, that they were supposed not so immediately and I
vitally to affect the being of Society; Of thisdattei
kind are gratitude, hospitality, charity, &C; , CqRt i
kerning such, civil Laws, for these reasonsi,rare gene
rally silent. And yet, th'pugh it may he true, that these
duties, which human LaAA'sthus overlook, i^ay notiS?
directiy affect Society, it is very certain, that., theii
violation , brings on aS; fatal, though not so swift
destruction., as that of the duties'of perfect obligation.
A yery competent judge, " ahd Avho alsp^ speaks the
sentiment of Antiquity in this niatter, hatl) not scrupled
to say : " Ut scias per se expetendam esse gfd

,Seet. 2.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 209
" animi adfectionem, per se fugienda res est ingratum
" esse: quoniam nihil aequeconcordiamhumani generis
" dissociat ac distrahit quam hoc vitium*."
5. But still further, besides these duties both of
perfect and imperfect obligation, for the encouraging
ahd enforcing of which civil Society was invented ;
Society itself begot and produced a new set of duties,
Avhich are, to speak in the mode of the Legislature,
of imperfect obligation: the first and principal of
which is that antic|uated forgotten virtue called th©
LOVE OF OUR COUNTRY.
6. But lastly. Society not only introduced a ncAv
set of duties, but likewise increased and inflamed, to
an infinite degree, those inordinate appetites, for whose
correction it Avas invented and introduced : like some
kind of powerful medicines, Avhich, at the very tirae
they are working a cure, heighten the malignity of the
disease. For our wants increase, in proportion as
the arts of life advance. But in proportion jLO our
wants, so is our uneasiness ; — to our uneasiness, so
our endeavours to remove it-^to our endeavours, so
the Aveakness of human restraint. Hence it is evident,
that in a state of nature, where little is consulted
but the support of our being, our Avants must be feAV,
and our appetites, in proportion, weak ; and that in
CIVIL SOCIETY, where the arts of life are cultivated,
our wants must be manyj and our appetites, in pro-
,, portion, strong.
II. Thus far concerning the imperfection' of civil
.Society, with regard to the adrainistration of that
* Seneca de Benef. lib. iv. cap. 18.
Vol. I, P power

ita THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookL
power which it hath, namely of punishing Trans
gressors. We shall next consider its much greater.
iraperf-ection with regard to that power which it
wanteth ; namely of rewarding the Obedient.
The two great sanctions of all Law and Command
are reward and punishment. These are generally
called the two hinges, on which all kinds of Govern^
ment tum. And so far is certain, and apparent to the
coraraon sense of mankind, that whatever laAvs are npt
enforced by both these sanctions, will never be observed
in any degree sufficient to carry on the ends of civil
Society. Yet, I shall now shew, from the original constitu
tion and nature of this Society, that it neither had,
nor could enforce, the sanction of reaa'arD.
But, to avoid mistakes, I desire it may be observed/
that by rexvard, must needs here be meant, such as is
corf erred on every one for obeying the laxvs of his
country; not such as is bestoAved on particulars, for
any eminent service : ash'^ punishment i»e understand
that xvhich is inflicted on every one for transgressing
ike kms ; not that which is imposed on parti€ulars,t
for neglecting to do all the service in their power.
I make no doubt but this will be called a paradox ;
nothing being more common in the mouths of politi-'
cians *, than that the sanctions of reward arid punish^
ment are tke two pillars of civil government ; and all
the modern Utopian and ancient systems of speculative
politics derive the whole vigour of their laws fi'om
* Neque^olum -yitSolonis dictum usurpem, qui 86 sapien-'
tissimus fuit ex septem, 8c legum scriptor solus ex septem.
Is rempublicam duahus rebus contineri dixit, pramio 6jpan&>
Cic. ad Brutum, Ep. 15. Edit, Oxoa. 410. T. IX. p. 85,86.
11 " - these

Sect. 2. J OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 211
these two sources. In support then of my assertion,
permit me to ittforce the two following propositions :
I. That, by the original constitution of civil Govern
ment, the sanction of rewards xvas not established by it.
II. That by the very nature of ciAdl Government
they could not be established.
I. The truth of the first proposition appears from
hence. On entering into Society, it Avas stipulated,
between the Magistrate and People, that protection
and obedience should be the reciprocal conditions of
each pther. When, therefore, a citizen obeys the laws,
that debt on Society is discharged by the protection
it affordeth hira. But in respect to disobedience, the
proceeding is not analogous; (though protection, as
the condition of obedience, iraplies the withdrawing
of it, for disobedience ;) and for these reasons : The
effect of withdrawing protection must be either expul
sion fi:om the Society, or the exposing the offender to
all kind of licence, from others, in it. Society could
not practise the first,, without bringing the body politic
into a consumption ; nor the latter, without throwing
it into convulsions. Besides, the first is no punish
ment at all, but by accident ; it being only the leaving
one Society to enter into another : and the second is a
very inadequate punishment ; for though all obedience
be the same, and so, unform protection a proper
return for it ; yet disobedience being of various kinds
and degrees, the withdrawing protection, in this latter
sense, wPuld be too great a punishment for some
crimes, and too small for others.
This being the case, it was stipulated that the trans
gressor should be subject to pecuniary mulcts, aorporal
P 2 infliction,

212 THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookL
infliction, mutilation of merabers, and capital severi
ties. Hence arose the Sanction, and the Only sanction
of civil Laws : for, that protection is no rcAvard, in
the sense A\hich these are punishments, is plain from
hence, that the one is of the essence of Society itself;
the other an occasional adjunct. But this will further
appear by considering the opposite to protection, which
IS, expulsion, or banishment; for this is the natural con
sequence of Avithdrawiiig protection. Now this, as
Ave said, is no punishment but by accident : and so tbe
State understood it ; as we may collect, even from
their manner of employing it as a punishment on
offenders : for banishment is of universal use, with
other punishments, in all societies. Now where with-
draAving protection is inflicted as a punishment, the
practice of all States hath been to retain their right
to obedience from the banished meraber; though,
according to tbe nature of the thing, considered alone,
that right be really discharged ; obedience and pro
tection, as we observed, being reciprocal. But it was
necessary all States should act in this manner when
they inflicted exile as a punishment, it being no punish
ment but by accident, when the claira tP subjection
Avas remitted Avith it. They had a right to act thus;
because it was inflicted on an offender ; who by his
very offence had forfeited all claim of advantage froaj
that reciprocal condition.
II. The second proposition is, that by the nature.
of. eivil governraent, the sanction of rewards could not
be enforced by it : ray reason is, because Society could
neither distinguish the objects of its favour; nor
reward them, though they were distinguished. *'
t. First,

Sect. 2.] OF ]\IOSES DEMONSTRATED. 213
1. First, Society could not distinguish the objects
ef its favour. To inflict punishment, there is no need
of knowing the motives of the offender ; but judicially
to confer reward on the obedient, there is.
All that civil judicatures do in punishing is to find
whether the act a\ as ".ci fully committed. They enquire
not into the intention or raotives any further, or other
wise, than as they are the marks of a voluntary act: and
having found it so, they concern themselves no more
with the man's motives or principles of acting ; but
punish, without scruple, in confidence of the offender's
demerit. And tliis with very' good reason; because
noone of a sound mind, can be ignorant of the prin
cipal offences against right, or of the malignity of those
offences, but by some sottish negligence which hath
hindered his inforraation ; or some brutal passion
Avhich hath prejudiced his judgment ; both which are
highly faulty, and deserve civil punishraent.
It is otherwise in rewarding abstinence from trans
gression. Here the motive must be considered ; be
cause as merely doing ill, i.e. without any particular
bad motive, deserves punishment, a crime in the case
of wrong judgnient being ever necessarily inferred ;
so merely abstaining front ill, i.e. without any partis
cular good raotive, cannot, for that very reason, have
any raerit.
In Judicially rewarding, therefore, the motives raust
be known, but huraan judicatures cannot know them but
by accident : it is only that tribunal, which searches
the heart, that can penetrate thus far. We conclude,
therefore, tkat reward cannot, properly , be the sanction
ofhurhan laws.
P3 If

214 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book I
If it should be said, that though rewards cannot
be equitably administered, as punishments may, yet,
nothing hinders but that, for the good of Society, all
who observe the laws should be rewarded, as all whp
transgress the laws are punished ;— The answer will
lead us to the proof of tiie second part of this
proposition. 2. That Society could not reward, though it shoul^
discover tke objects of its favour ; the reason is,^
because no Society can ever find a fund sufficient for
that purpose, without raising it on the people as a ta^,
to pay it back to them as a rcAvard.
But the universal practice of Society confirms this
reasoning, and is explained by it; the sanction of
punishments only having, in all ages and places, beeit
employed to secure the observance of civil laws. This
was so remarkable a fact, that it could not escape the
notice of a certain adrairable Wit and studious observer
of raen and raanners ; whp speaks ofit as an universal
defect : Although xve usually (says he) call reward and,
punishment the two hinges, upon which all government
turns, yet I could never observe this maxim to be put
in practice by any nation except that of Lilliput*.
Thus he introduceth an account of the laws ahd customs
of an Utopian Coastitution of his own framing ; and,
for that matter, as good, perhaps, as any of the rest :
and, had he intended it as a satire against such chime
rical Commonwealths,' nothing could have been more
just. For all these political romancers, from Plata.
to this Author, make civil rewards and punishments'
the two hinges of government. "' ' ¦ .' '
* Gulliver's Travels, Vol. i. p. 97. I have

Sect. 2.j OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 215
I have often vvondei'ed n hat it was, that could lead
them from fact, and universal practice, in so funda
mental a point. But AAitiiout doubt it was this : The
design of such sort of \vritings is to give a perfect
pattern of civil Government; and to supply the
fancied defects in real Societies. Tli^ end of govern
ment coming first under consideration ; and the general
practice of Society seeming to declare tliis end to be
-only, Avhat in truth it is, security to our temporal
liberty and property ; tiie simplicity of it displeased,
and the plan appeared detective. They imagined,
that, by enlarging the bottom, tiiey should ennoble the
structure ; and, therefore, fprnied a roraantic project
of making civil Society serve for all the good purposes
it was even accidentally capable of producing. And
thus, instead of giving us a true picture of civil Govern^
ment, they jumbled together all sorts of Societies into
one ; and confounded the religious, the literary, the
^nercaniilc, the convivial, Avith the civil. Whoever
reads them carefully, if indeed they be worth reading
carefully, AA'ill find that the errors they abound in are aU
of this nature ; and that they arise from the losing,
or never having had, a true idea of the simple plan of
civil GoA'eniraent ; a circumstance which, as we have
,Shewn elsewhere* hath occasioned many wrong
judgraents concerning it. No wondei-, then, that this
mistake concerning the end of civil Society, drew #fter it
others, concerning the tneans; and this, amongst the rest,
that reward was one ofthe sapcticns of human laxvs.
On the whole then, it appears, that civil Society hath
jiot, in itself, the Scmction qf rewards, to gecur^ the
f ,Sjee The Alliance between Cbiffcb ^ijd State, Vol. VII,
p 4 observance

5i6 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book L
observance of its laws. So true, in this sense likewise,
is the observation of St, Paul, that the law avas not
made for the righteous, but for the unruly
AND disobedient.
' But it being evident, that the joint sanctions of
rewards and punishraents are but just sufficient to
secure the tolerable observance of Right (the mistaken.
ppinion, that these are the two hinges of government,
arising from that evidence) it follows, that, as reli
gion ONLY can supply THE SANCTION OF RE
WARDS, WHICH SOCIETY NEEDS, AND HATH NOT;
RELIGION IS ABS0LUTE;.Y NECESSARY TO CIVIl
POVERNMENT. Thus, on the whole we see,
I. That Society, by its own proper poAver, cannot
provide for the observance of above one third part
of moral duties ; and of that third, but imperfectly'.
We see likewise, how, by the peculiar influence of
its nature, it enlarges the duty of the Citizen, at
the same time that it lessens his natural ability tq
perform it.
IL We see, Avhich is a thing of far greater con-;
sequence, that Society totally wants one of those twQ
sanctions which are owned by all to be the necessary
hinges on which government turns, and Avithoiit wbicl^
it cannot be supported.
To supply these wants and iraperfections, some
other coactive power must be added, (which hath its,
influence on the raind of man) to keep society from,
running b^ck into confusion. But there is no other
than the power of religion ; Avhich, teaching an over
ruling Providence, ^he Rewarder of good men, and
the Punisher of ill, can obliige to the duties of imper-^.

Sect. 2.] OP MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 217
feet obligation, which huraan laws overlook: and
teaching also, that this Providence is omniscient, tliat
it sees the most secret actions and intentions of men,
and hath given laws for the perfecting their nature,
will oblige to those duties of perfect obligation, which
human laAvs cannot reach, or sufficiently enforce.
Thus have we explained in general the mutual aid,
religion and civil policy lend to one another : not
unlike that which two Allies, in the same quarrel, may
Teciprocally receive against a common enemy : Awhile
one party is closely pressed, the other comes up to its
relief ; disengages the first ; gives it tirae to rally and
repair its force : by this time the assisting party i&
pushed in its turn, and needs the aid of that Avhich it
relieved ; which is now at liuiidto repay the obligation-
From henceforth the two parties act in conjunction,
and, by that raeans, keep the comraon enemy at a
Stand. Having thus proved the service of Religion in
general to Society ; and shewn after what manner
it is perforraed, Ave are enabled to proceed to the
proof of the proposition in question : For by ivhat
hath been said, it appears that Religion doth this
service solely, as it teacheth a Providence, the rewarder
of good men, and the punisher of evil : so that although
it were possible, as I think it is not*, that there
could be guch a thing as<a. Religion not founded on
|;he doctrine of a Providence ; yet, it is evident, such a
* St. Paul supposes there can no more be a Religion
without a Providence, than without a God : Be that
fometh to God, must believe tkat he is, and that he is a re-
^^rder of theni that diligently seek him- Hebr. xi. 6.
Religion

2i8 THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookL
Religion would be of no manner of use to Society,'
Whatsoever therefore is necessary for the support of
tills doctrine is iramediately necessary for the welV
being of Society. Noav the doctrine of a future
state of rewards and punishraents is absolutely
and indispensably necessary fbr the support of the
general doctrine of providence, Under its present disr
pensations in this life; as Ave shall now sheAV.
Religion establishing a Providence, the rewarder
of virtue, and the punisher of vice, men naturally
expect to find tbe constant and univocal marks of
such an administration. But the history of mankind,
uay even of every one's own neighbourhood, would
soon inform the most indiligent observer, that the
affairs of men wear a face of great irregularity ; the
scene, that ever and aiion presents itself, being of
distressed virtue, and prosperous Avickedness; which
unavoidably brings the embarrassed Religionist to
the necessity of giving up his belief, or finding out
the soluiiun of these untoward appearances. His
first reflexion might perhaps be with the poet* ;
_  _..-_-_ omnia rebar
Consilio firraata Dei; qui lege nioveri
Sidera, qui fi'uges diverso tenapore nasci, — •
Sed cura res hominura tanta caligine volyi
Adspicerem, Isetosque diu florere nocentes,
Vexarique pios, rursus labefacta cadeb^^t
Religio. 
But, on second thoughts, Reason, that, from the acU
mirable frame and harmony of the material universe,
* Claud. taugbl

Sect 2.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 219
taught him that there must needs be a superintending
Providence, to influence that order which all its parts
preserve, for the sake of the Whole, in their continued
revolutions, Avould soon instruct hira in the absurdity
of supposing, that the sarae care did not extend to
Man, a creature of a far nobler nature than the most
ponsiderable of inanimate beings. And therefore
human affairs not being dispensed, at present, agree
ably to that superintendence, he must conclude, that
Man shall exist after death, and be brought to a future
reckoning in another life, AA'bere all accounts will be
set even, and all the present obscqrities and perplexities
in the ways of Providence unfolded and explained.
From hence Religion acquires resistless force and
gplendor; and rises on a solid and unshaken basis*
Noav this doctrine of a future state beins the
pnly support of Religion under the present and
ordinary dispensations of Providence, we conclude
(which was what we had to prove) that the inculcating
* Hear an unexceptionable evidence to this virhole matter:
Et quidem (says tbe free-thinking Lord Herbert) pra;miuiii
|)onis, 8c supplicium malis, vel hac invita, vel post hanc
vitam dari, statuebant Gentiles. — Nihil mage congiuum
naturae divinae esse docuerant, turn philosophorum, tum
theologorum Gentilium prsecipuorum scholae, quam ut
bona bonis, mala malis remetiretur Deus. Caaterum quum
id quoque cemerent, quemadmodum viri boni calamitatibus
miseriisque oppressi heic jaceient; mali improbique e con
tra lautitiis omnibus affluerent; certissimis ex justitia
bonitateque divina argumentis deductis, bonis post hanc
yitam praemium condignum, malis poenam dari credebant;
SECUS ENIM SI ESSEX, NULLAM NEQUE JUSTITIffi
HEQtiE BONITATIS piVIN.aS KATIONEM CONSTARE
POSSE. De religione Gentilium, cap. Premium vel poena. this

220 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book l'
this doctrine is necessary to the xvell-being- of
Society. _ k
That it was the general sentiment of mankind, Ave
shall see hereafter; where it will be shewn, that there
never Avas, in any time or place, a civilized People '
(the jexvish only excepted) who did not found. tiieir
Religion on this doctrine, as being conscious it could
not be sustained without it. And as for the necessity
of Religion itself to Society, the very eneraies of all
Religion are tbe lotidest to confess it : for, from this
apparent truth, the Atheist of old forraed his' faraous
argument against the divine origin of Reli^on.;
which makes so great a figure in the common sySteHfc
of infidelity. Here then, even on our adversary's
confession, Ave might rest our cause; but that we find
(so inconstant and perverse is irreligion) some
modern Apologists for Atheism have abandoned tlie
system of their predecessors, and chosen rather to
give up an arguraent against the divine origbal of re
ligion, than acknowledge tiie civil use of it ; which
with much frankness and confidence they have a4-
ventured to deny.
These therefore having endeavoured to cut away
the very ground we stand upon, in proof of our pro
position, it Avill be proper to examine their pre.--
tensions.
SECT. IIL
THE three ^great Advocates for this paradox are
commonly reckoned Pomponatius, Cardan, and
.Bayle ; who are put together, without distinction ;
whereas noticing is more certaii^ than that, although
Qardm

Sect. 3.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 221
Cardan and Bayk indeed defended it, Pomponatius
was of .a very different opinion : but Bayle had
•entered him into this service ; and so great is Bayle's
;autiiority, that nobody perceived the delusion. It will
be but justice then to give Pomponatius a fair hearing,
and let him speak for himself
. This learned ItaUan, a famous Peripatetic of the
fifteenth century, wrote a treatise* to prove that, on
the principles of Aristotle, it could not be proved
that the soul was immortal : but the doctrine of the
mortality of the soul being generally thought to have
very pernicious consequences, he conceived it lay
upon him to say somethmg to that objection. In
his xiiith chapter, therefore, he enumerates those con
sequences ; and in the xivth, gives distinct answers to
each of them. That which supposeth his doctrine to
affect society, is. expressed in these Avords : " Obj. 2.
" in the second place, a man persuaded of the mor-
•" tality of the soul ought in no case, even in the most
" urgent, to prefer death to life : And so, fortitude,
" which teaches us to despise death, and, when our
" country, or the public good requires, even to chuse
* De Immortalitate Animae, printed in ismo. An. 1534.
It is of him chiefly that the celebrated Melchior Canus
seems to speak, in the following words: " Audivimua
," Italos quosdam, qui suis & Aristateli & Averroi tantum
" temporis dant, quantum sacris Uteris ii, qui maxim^ sacra
" doctrina delectantur ; tantum vero fidei, quantum Apos-
" tolls & Evangelistis ii qui inaxim^ sunt in Christi doctri-
" nam religiosi. Ex quo nata sunt in Italia pestifera ilia
" dogmata de mortalitate animi, & divina circa res humanas
" improvidentia, si verum est quod dicitur." Opera,
1, s. c. 5. p. 446, Colon. 1605, Svo. " i^

222 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book I.
" it, would be no more. Nor on such principles*
" should we hazard life for a friend : on the contrary,
" we should corarait any Avickedncss rather than
« ' undergo the loss of it : Avhich is contrary to what
" Aristotle teacheth in his Ethics*." His reply to
this, in the following chapter, is that virtue require
xve should die for our country or our friends ; and
that virtue is never so perfect as wken it bringistno'
dower with it: But then he subjoins, " Philosophers,
•i' and the learned, only know what pleasures the
" practice of virtue can procure; and what misery
" attends ignorance and vice:— but men not under-
" standuig the excellence of virtue, and deformity of
" vice, Avould commit any Avickedness rather than sub-
" mit to death : to bridle therefore their unruly appe-
" tites, they Avere taught to be influenced by hope of
" reward, and fear of punishmentf ." — ^This is enough
to shew what Pomponatius thought of the necessity
of Religion to the State. He gives up so much of
* Secundc), quia stante animi humani mortalitate, homo
in nullo casu, quantumcunque urgentissimo, deberet'eligere:
mortem : & sic removeretur fortitude, quae praecipit con
temnere mortem, & quod pro patria & bono publico debe-
mus mortem eligere: neque pro amico deberemus exponere
animam nostram ; imo quodcunque scelus & nefas perpe-
trare magis quam mortem subire: quod est contra Arist.
3 Ethic. & 9 ejusdem. P. 99.
f Soli enim philosophi &, studiosi, ut dicit — Airist.
6 Ethic, sciunt quantam delectationem generent virtutes, &
quantara miseriam ignorantia 8c vitia. — Sed quod homines
non cognoscentes excellentiam virtutis &- foeditatem vitii,
crane scelus perpetrarent, priusquam mori: quare ad re-
fiaenandum diras hominum cupiditates, data est spes prsemii
&, timor punitionis. P. 1 19. the

Sect. 3.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 223
the objection as urges the ill consequence of the doc
trine of the mortality to mankind in general; but in so
doing hath not betrayed the cause he undertook; which,
was to prove that the belief of the raortality of the
soul would have no ill influence on the practice of a
learned Peripatetic : he pretends not that it Avould
have no evil influence on the gross body of mankind
to the prejudice of Society. This appears from* the
nature and design of the treatise ; written entirely on
peripatetic principles, to explain a point in that philo
sophy: by the force of which explanation, whoever
was persuaded of the mortality of the soul, must give
his assent on those principles; principles only fitted to
influence leamed men. It Avas his business therefore
to examine, what effects this belief Avould have on
such, and on such only. And this, it must be oAvned,
he hath done with dexterity enough. But that this
belief would be raost pernicious to the body of man
kind in general, he confesses with"all ingenuity. And
as his own words are the fullest proof that he thought
Tilth the rest of the Avorld, conceming the influence Of
Religion, and particularly of the doctrine of a future
state of rewards and punishments, on Society, I shall
beg leave to transcribe them at large. " There are
" some men of so ingenuous and -well framed a
" nature, that they are brought to tiie practice of
" virtue from the sole consideration of its dignity;
-" and are kept from vice on the bare prospect of its
" baseness : but such excellent persons are very rare,
" Others there are of a soraeAvhat less "heroic tum
" of mind ; and these, besides the dignity of virtiife,'
" and the baseness of vice, are, worked upon by fame
" and. honours, by in&my and disgrace, to shun evil
" and

224 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book!.
" and persevere in good: these are of the second
" dfess of men. Others again are kept in order by
" the hope of some real benefit, or the dread of corporal
" punishment; wherefore that such may follow virtue,
" the Politician hath contrived to allure them by
" dignities, possessions, and things of the like nature*
" inflicting mulcts, degradations, mutilations, and
" capital punishments, to deter them from wickediiessi
" There are jet others of so intractable and perverse
" a spirit, that nothing even of this can move them-, ,
" as daily experience shews; for these, therefore,- k
" was, tiiat the Politician invented the doctrine qf a
" future state ; Avhere eternal rewards are reserved fof
" the virtuous; and^etenial punishments, which have
" the more powerful influence of the two, for the
" Avicked. For the greater part jif those who live
" Avell, do so, rather for fear of the punishraent, than
" out of appetite to the reward : for misery is better
" known to man, than that immeasurable good Avhich
" Religion promiseth : And therefore as this last con-
" trivance may be directed to promote the welfare of
" men of all conditions and degrees, the Legislator,
" intent on public good, and seeing a general propen-
" sity to evil, established the doctrine of the immor-
" tality of the soul. Litde solicitous for
" truth, in all this, but intent only on utility, that he
" might draw mankind to virtue. Nor is he to be
" blaresd ; for as the physician deceives his patient in
" order to restore his health, so the laivgiver invents
" apologues to form the manners of his people.
** Indeed were all of that noble turn of mind with
*' those enumerated under the first class, then would
** tbey ali, even on, the supposition of the soul's mor-
'f tality,

Sects-] OF MOSES MMONSTRATED. 225
" tality, exactly perform their mutual duties to one
".another. But as there are, upon the matter, none
M of tkis' disposition, he-Mnust, of ne< .^ssity, have re-
" course to arts* more fitted to the general dispo-
" sition."
* Aliqui sunt homines ingenui, 8c bpne institute naturabj
adeo quod ad virtutem inducuntar ex sola virtutis nobili-
tate, & a vitio rctrahuntur ex sola ejus fceditate : & hi
bptim^ dispositi sunt, beet pei^auci sunt. Aliqui vero
sunt rhinusbene dispositi; 8c hi praetet nobilltatem virtutis;
&'fceditatem vitii, ex prasmiis, laudibus, & bonoribus; ex
pcenis, vituperiis, &, infamia, studiosa operantur, &. vitia
fugiunt : 8c hi in secundo gradu sunt. Aliqui vero propter
€pem alJGuJus boni, 8c timore pcenae corporalis Studiosi
efficiuiitur: quai'e, ut tales virtutem consequantur, statuunt
politic! vel aurum, vel dignitatem, vel aliquid tale; ut vitid
vero fiigiant, statiiunt vel in pecunia, vel in honore,- vel
in corpore; seii mutilando membrum., seu occidendo punifii
Qtiidam vero ex ferocitate 8c perversitate naturae, nulla
horum moventur, ut quotidiarii docet experientis; ided
posueiTlnt virtupsis in alia vita praemia geteifla, vitiosis
vero seteraa danuia^ quae maxime terrerent: majorque pars
hominum, si boiium operatm', magis ex metu aeterni damni
quam spe ssterni boiii operatur bonum, eum damna sunt
niagis nobis cognita, quam ilia bona seterna: &, quoniam
hoc ultimum ingenium omnibus hominibus potest prodesse,
cujuscunque gradus sint, respiciens legislator pronitateiii
Viarum ad maluiii, intendens communi bono, sarixit ani-
toam esse immortalem, non curans de Veritate, sed tantura,
de probitate, ut inducat homines ad virtutem. Nequei ac-
cusandus est politicus; sicut namque medicus multa fingit^
ut aegro sanitatem restituat ; sic politicus apologos forma;t,
ut cives rectificet. — Si omnes homines essent in illo primd
gradu enumerate, stante etiam anunorum mortalitate, stii-
diosifierent; sed quasi null! sunt .iliusdispositionis; qtiar^
aliis ingeniis incedere necesse fuit. — Pag. 123, 124, 125.
V0L.L Q After

h4 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book L
After all this, it is surprizing that Mr. Bayle should
so far mistake this book, as to imagine the author
argues in it against the usefulness qf religion to
sacietyi especially, when we consider that Mr. Bayle.
appear^ to have examined the book so nearly as to be
able to confute a common error concerning it, namely^,
that it was wrote to prove tke moi'tality qf tke soul:
Whereas he shews, that it was wrote only to prove,
that, on tlie principles of Aristotle, neither that, nor
the contrary, could be demonstrated. But let us hear
him ; " That which Pomponatius hath replied to the
*' reasoning borrowed from hence, that tiie doctrine
" of the mortality of the soul would invite men to all
" sort of criraes, deserves to be considered *." And
then he produces those arguments of Pomponatius,
which we have given above, of tke natural excellence
of virtue, and deformity of vice ; tkat happiness con
sists in tke practice of the one, and misery in that ofthe
other, (Spe. These he calls poor solutions: Indeed
poor enough, had it been, as Mr. Bayle supposes,
Pomponatius'?, design to prove that the doctrine of tiie
mortality of the soul did not invite the generality of
men to wickedness : for the account given by Pompo^
natius himself of the origin of the contrary doctrine,.
shews, that, but for this, they Avould have run head
long into vice. But supposing the Peripatetic's de
sign to be, as indeed it Avas, to prove that the doctiine
of the mortality would have no ill influence on the
learned followers of Aristotle, tiien these arguments,
* Ce que Pomponace a repondu a la raison emprunt6e, ,
de ce que le dogme de la mortality de Tame porteroit lea
hommes a toutes sortes de crimes, est digne deconsideratioui.
Diet. Hist.& Crit. Art. Pompokacb Rem. (H.). which

Sect. 3.1 OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 227
Avhich INfr. Bayle calls poor ones, will be found td have
their weight. But he goes on, and tells us, tkat Pom
ponatius brings a better argument frorti fact, wkere
he takes notice of several, 'wko denied tke immortality of
the soul, and yet Uved as well as their believing neigk-
bourSi This is indeed a good ai-gument to the pur
pose, fbr which it is employed by Pomponatius ; but
whether it be so to that, for which, Mr. Bayle imagined,
he employed it, shall be considered hereafter, AVhen we
come to meet w ith it again in this later aa riter's apology
for atheism. But !Mr. Bayle was so full of his own
favourite question, that he did not give due attention
to Pomponatius?, ; and having, as I observed above,
refuted a vulgar error with regard to this famous tract,
and imagining that the impiety, so generally charged
on it, Avas solely founded in that error, he goes on in
sulting the enemies of Pomponatius in this raanner :
" If tiie charge of irapiety, of which Pomponatius
^' hath been accused, was only founded on his book
" of the immortality of the soul, we raust needs say
" there Avas never any accusation raore inipertirtent or
" a stronger instance of the iniquitous perversity of
" the persecutors of the philosophers*." But Pom-
ponatius Avill not be so easily set clear : For let him
thmk as he Avould conceming the soul, yet the account
he gives of the origin of Religion, as the contrivance
of statesmen, here produced, from this very tract
De immortalitate animce, is so highly irapious, that his
* Si Ton n'a fond^ les impietez, dont on I'accuse, que sur
son livre de Irimmortalite de Came, il n'y eut jamais d'accu-
feation plus impertinente, que celle-la, ni qui soit une mar
que plus expresse de fentetemer^t inique des persecu teurs
des philosophes. (3, 2 enemies

238 • THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookL
enemies will be hardly persuaded to giA-e it a softer
name than downright atheism. Nor is it impiety in
general, of Avhich, we endeavour to acquit him, but
only that species of it, Avhich teaches that Religion is
useless to Society. And this Ave think we have done;
although it be by sheAving hira to have run into the
Opposite extreme, which would insinuate it was iAe
creature of politics.
Cardan comes next to be considered: and hini,
nobody hath injured. He, too, is under Bayle's, delu
sion, concerning Pomponatius: For, writing on the
same subject*, he borrows the Peripatetic's arguments
to prove that Religion xvas even pernicious to Society,,
This was so bold a stroke, that Mr. Bayle, who gene
rally follows him pretty closely, drops him here: Nor
do I knoAv that he ever had a second, except it wa*
the unhappy philosopher of Malmsbury ; who, scorning
to argue upon the matter, imperiously pronounced,
that he who presuraed to propagate Religion in a ,
Society, vrithout leave of the Magistrate, AA-as guilty of |
the crime. of Lese Majesty, as introducing a power
superior to the Leviatkaris. But it would be unpardon
able to keep the reader much longer on this poor
lunatic Italian, in wkom, as Mr. Bayle pleasantly ob
serves, sense was, at best, but an appendix tokis folly\.
Besides,
* JDe imrnortalitate animorum liber, Lugd.'ap. Gryph.
1545; et Opera omnia, fol. Lugduni, 1663, Tom. IL
p. 458.
t Tbe charming picture he draws of himself, and which
be excuses no otherwise than by laying the fault on his
STARS, will hardly prejudice any one in favour of his opi
nions. How far it resembles any other of the brotberhqQ^ '
they best know, who have exajnined the genius of mo'dirn
12 infidelity. '

.Sect. 3 ] OF MOSES DE^^IONSTRATED. 229
:Besides, there is littie in that tract, but what he stole
¦from Pomponatius; tiie sirength of which, to support
Cardan's, paradox, hath been considered already; or
what Mr. Bayle hath borrowed frora him ; the for^e of
which -shall be considered hereafter : But that little is
so peculiarly his own, that as no other can claira the
pjroperty, so no one hath hitherto usurped tiie use.
Which yet, however, is remarkable; for there is no
trash so worthless, but what some time or other finds
a place in a Free-thinker's system. We will not de
spair then but that tiiis paltry rubbish may one day
or other have an honourable station in some, of these
fashionable fabrics. And, not to hinder its speedy
preferment, I shall here give it the reader in its full
force, without answer or reply. He brings the follow
ing argument to prove that the doctrine of the immor
tality of the soul is even destructive to society; —
" From this flattering notion of a future state, ill
*' men get opportunity to compass their wicked de-
" signs : and, on the same account, good men suffer
**, tKemselves to be injuriously treated. Civil laws,
"" relying
infidelity. HoAvever, thus he speaks of his own amiable
turnof mincl: "In diem viventem, nugacein^ religionis
^ contemptorem,inj uriae illatae memorem, invidum, tristem,
¦•*' insidiatorem, proditorem, magiim, incantatoremi suorum
*' psoreni, turpi libidini deditum, solitarium, inamoenum,
** aasterum; sponte etiam divinantem,,zelotypum, oljscog-
*' num, lascivum^ maledicum, varium, ancipit^m.impurum,
" caltimniatorem," &c. We have had naany Free-th/inkers,
but few such Free-speakers. Bat though these sort of
Avriters are not used to give us so direct a picture of them-
Belves, yet it hath beeh observed, that 'they' have uauivares
copied from their own tempers, in the ungracious dr ;,vvingsj
*hey haye made of Hujwan Nature and Religion,
ft4

230 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book I,
" relying on this fanciful assistance, relax their neces-
*^ sary severity; and tkus is the opinion productive of
" much mischief to mankind*." And then, by
another argum.ent as good, he shews the benefits
accruing to tbe state from the belief of the soul's
mortality : " Those who maintain that the soul dies
" with the body, must needs be, by their principles,
" honester men than others, because they have a
" peculiar interest in preserving their reputation;
" this being tbe only future property they pretend to :
" And the Profession of the Soul's mortality being
*' generally esteemed as scandalous as that of usury,
" such raen will be most exact and scrupulous in point
*' of honour, as your usurer, to keep up the credit of
" his calling, is of all men the most religious obseryer
" of his word f."
SECT. IV.
Me. Bayle, the last supporter of this parodox, is
pf a very different character from these Italia^
Sophists : A writer, who, to the utmost strength ^nd
clearness of reaspning, hath added all the liveliness,
and delicacy of wit : who, pervading humap nature
at his ea§e, struck into the provinpe of paradox,
as an exercise for the unwearied yigouF of hjs mind ;
who, with a soul superior to the sharpest attacks of
fortune, and a heart practised tp the best philosophy^
had not yet epough of real greatnesjs to overcome
* De immortalitate anknorwn, pap. ii.
t C^g. xxxiii. ejusd. tract, that

Sed. 4.] 6f MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 231
that last foible of superior minds, the temptation of
honour, which the academic exercise of wit
is conceived to bring to its professors.
A writer of this character will deserve a particular-
regard : for paradoxes, which in tiie hands of a Toland
or a Tindal end in rank offensive impiety, will, under
•tlie management of a Bayle, always afford some
thing for use or curiosity: Thus, in the very work
we are about to examine*, the many admirable obser
vations on the nature and genius of polytheism, happen
to be a full answer to all w hich the Author of Chris-
tianity as old as the Creation hath advanced against
;flie use of Revelation. For a skilful chemist, though
disappointed in his grand magisterium, yet often
discovers, by the way, some useful and noble medica
ment; while the ignprant pretender to the art, not
only loses his labour, but fills all about him with the
poisonous steams of sublimate.
The professed design of Mr. Bayle's work is to
enquire, xvkick is least kurtfid to mankind, ancient
idolatry, ornwdern atheisrn : And had he confined him
self to that subject, we had had no concern with him,
hut should have left hiip in the hands of Mess. Jacquelot
and J^ernard, I freely own they are both stark
naught: All the difference is, that Atheism directly
excludes and destroys the true sense of moral right
and wrong ; and Polytheism sets up a false species
ofit. * Pensees 6iyerses, ecrites % ua docteur de Sbrbonne
^I'occasion de la comete qui parut au mois de Decem-
bre, 1680. &— rContinuation des Pensees diverges, &c. on
Reponse a plusieurs difRcultez, S^.
' <14 But

232 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book-L
But the more particular, though less- avowed, pur
pose of this elaborate treatise is to prove, that Atheism
is n"t destrucii'ce qf society ; and here he falls under
our n itice ; no distinct answer, that I know of,
having b^en yet attempted to this part pf his pf r-r
fornianc.e. , , , , > ,
His arguments in support of this Paradox, arg
occasionally, and so without any method, interspersed
throughout that large work: But, to give .theni ^U the
advantage they are capable of, I haye here , colleote4
and disposed tl)§'m in. such order, that they mutually
support, and cpme in to the aid of one another- .
it .had been generally esteemed a proof of the
destructive nature, ^of Atheism to. Sopiety, that /Aw
principle excludes the knowledge of . moral good and
evil; such knowledge being, as will, be seen,, pos
terior, to, the kno'^ledge of 3, Gpd. ,, His first argunien^,
therefore for the innocence of Atheism is,
-T:* "• That an Atheist may have an idea ofthe moraj
"difference between good and evil, because Atheistsj'-
" as well as Theists,' 'may comprehend the first prinr
" ciples of morals arid metaphysics, from which this'
" diiitirencemay' be deduced. Aiid in fact (he says)
"' hoth x.h<^. Epicurean atkieist, who denied the pro vi-
" dence of God, and- the Stratonic atiieist, who denied'
'i his Being, had this idea*.'' ' ' '
This oft'^n repeated ar^;ument is so loosely expressed,
that it is capable of many me-i lings ; in sorae of which
* Voiez. les Pensees di verses, -cap; clxxviii. -& suiv/&
r.ad 'tiyn |..c.ep Pensees cap. iv. Repoiiseala lo Sb' si-la 13
pbjections, &, la Continuation des Peas. dlv. cap. cxliii; ' '-

Sect. 4;] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 633
the' assertion is true, but not to the purpose ; in others
to the purpose, but not true. Therefore before any
precise answer can be given to it, it will be necessary
to trace up moral duty to its first prmciples. And
though an enquiry of this sort should not prove the
most amusing either to myself or my reader, it may be
found however to deserve our pains. For a spirit of
dispute and refinement hath so entangled and con
founded all our conclusions on a subject, in itself,
very, clear and intelligible, that I am persuaded, weri3
MORALiTA' herself, of Avhich tbe ancients made a
Goddess, to appear in person amongst men, and be
questioned concerning her birth, she Avoidd be tempted
to answer as Homer does in Lucian, that her com
mentators had so learnedly embarrassed the dispute,
that she was now as much at a loss as They to account
for her original.
To proceed therefore with all possible brevity : Each
firiimal hath its instinct implanted by nature to direct
it to its greatest good. Araongst these, Man hath*
his; to which modern philosophers have given the
liame of
.,1. The MojiAL SEKSE : wliereby we conceive and
- feel a,- pleasure in right, and a distaste and aversion to
Avrong, prior to all reflexion on their natures, or their
consequences. This is the first inlet to the adequate
idea of rr^qrality ; and plainly, the most extensive of;
all; the [Atheist as well as Theist having it. — \yhen-
jnstinqtjhad gone thus far, ,, .
2. The reasoning faculty iraproved upon its dictates:
For, men led by reflexion to exaraine the foundation
GfXhi-iS'mori^ sense, &oon discovered thattherewere

234 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book I.
real essential differences in the qualities of human
?w;tions,. established by nature; and, consequent
that the love and hatred excited by the moral sense
were not cai^ricious in their operations ; for, that in
the essential properties of their objects there was 3
SPECiFtc DiFFEREi»rcp. Reason having gone tiius
far (and tiius far too it might conduct the StratOfiia
atheist) it stopped ; and saAV that something was still
wanting whereon to establish the morality, pro
perly so called, of actions, that is, an obligation
on men to perform some, and to avoid others ; and
that,' t® find this something, there was qeed of calling
ip other principles tp i1;s assistance ; because nothing
^n thus oblige but»
3, A superior will : And such a will could not be
found till the being and attributes of God Avere estar
hlished ; but was discovered ^'ith them.
Hence arose, and only from hence, a moral dif
ference, From this time humari aptions became
the subject of obligation, and not till now : For
though instinct felt a difference in actions; and
REASON discovered that this difference was founded
jn the nature of things ; yet it Avas avill only
which could make a compliance with that difference
a DUTY. On these three Principles! thereft)re, namely the:
moral sense, tke essential difference in human actions,
and the will qf God, is built the whole edifice of
practical morality : Each of which hath its distinct
motive tp enforce it ; Compliance with tke moral sense
exciting ^ pleasurable sensation ; compliance with tha
essential diff'erences of tkings promoting t{ie qrd^ ^^
harmony

Sect. 4.1 OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 235
harmony of the universe ; and compliance with the
mil of God obtaining aii abundant reward.
This, when attentively considered, can never fail
of affecting us Avith the most lively sense of God's
goodness to Mankind, ivho, graciously respecting the
Imbecility of Man's nature, the slowness of his reason,
and the violence of his passions, hath been pleased to
afford three different excitements to the practice of
Virtue; that men of all ranks, constitutions, and
educations, might find their account in one or other
ofthem ; something tiiat would hit their palate, satisfy
their reason, or subdue their xcilL The first principle,
which is the moral sense, would strongly operate on
those, who, by the exact temperature and balance of
tlie passions, were disengaged enough to feel the
delicacy of its charms ; and have an elegance of mind
to respect the nobleness of its dictates. The second,
which is the essential difference, ivill have its Aveight
with the speculative, the abstract and profound rea-
Boners, and on all those who excel in the knowledge
of huraan nature. And the third, which resolves
jtself into the mil of God, and takes in all the conse
quences of obedience and disobedience, is principally
adapted to the great body of Mankind.
It may perhaps be objected, to what is here deli
vered, tkat the true principle qf morality shpuld have
the worthiest motive tp enforce it: Whereas the Will
qf God is enforced by the v'lexv qf regards and punish-r
ments ; on which motive, virtue hath the smallest merit.
This character pf the true principle of morahty is
perfectly right ; aqd agrees, Ave say, with the principle
which we make to be the true : For the legitimate
«iotive to virtue, on that principle, is compliance with the

236 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Bookt
the Will of God; a coraphance which hath the highest '
degree of raerit. But this not being found of sufficient
power to take in the Generahty, the consequences of
compliance or non-compliance to this ^ViU, as far as
relates to rewards and punishments, were first drawn
out to the people's view. In w hich they \Aere dealt
with as the teaches of mathematics treat tiieir pupils;
when, to engage them ¦ in a sublime demonstration,
they explain 'to them the use and fertility of thf
theorem. To these great purposes serve the three prin
ciples while in conjunction : But now, as in the civil
Xiforld and the affairs of men, our pleasure, in contem
plating the wisdora and goodness of Providence, is
often disturbed and checked by the view ' of some
huraan perversity or folly AA'hich runs across, that
Dispensation ; so it is here, in the intellectual: This
admirable provision for the support of virtue; hath
been; in great raeasure, defeated by its pretended
advocates; who, in their their eternal squabbles about
the true foundation of raorality, and the .obligation to
its practice, have Sacrilegiously untv^isted this three-;
FOLD CORD ; and each running away with the part
he esteemed the strongest, bath affixed that to the
throne pf God, as the gdlden chain that is to; unite and
draw all unto it.
This man proposes to illustrate the dpctrine of thfe
MORAL sense; and then the morality of actions is-
founded only in thai .ye«*e; Avith liim, metaphysics and
logic, by which the essential differencL,ia hiiman actions,
is demonstrated, are nQthinghut Xtfords',- notions, visions;-
tke empty regions and shadows- qf philosophy. The
prpfessors of theaj are moon-blind 'tvits ;¦ and Locke
himself

Sect. 4.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 237
himself is treated as a- school-man *. To talk qf re
ward and punishraent, consequent, on the wiUof'a
mperi&}\ is to make the practice of virtue mercenary
and. servile; from which, pure huraan nature is the
most abhorrent.
Another undertakes to demonstrate the essential
DIFFEHENCES OF THINGS, and their natui^l fitness
and unfitness to certain ends; and thon morality is
solely founded on those differences ; and God 'and his
Will have nothing to do in the matter. Then the
Will of God cannot mal<e any thing morally good and
evil, just and unjust; nor consequentiy be the cause
of any obligation on moral Agents : because the
essences and natures of things, which constitute
actions good and evil, are independent on that Will ;
wbich is forced to submit to their relations like weak
Man's. And therefore, if there were no natural jus
tice; that is, if the rational and intellectual nature
were, of itself, undetermined and unobliged to any
thing, and so destitute of morality properly so called,
it were not possible that any thing should be made
morally good or evil, obligatory or unlawful, or that
any moral obligation should be begotten by any Will
or positive command whatsoever. ^-And then our
knowledge of moral good and evil is solely acquired
by abstract reasoning : And to talk of its coming any
other way into the mind, is weak and superstitious,
as making God act unnecessarily and superfluously.
A third, Avho proposes to place morality on the will
of a superior, which is its true bottom, acts yet on the
same exterminating model. He' takes the other two
^ • • • Charactei'istics, passim. Principles

fiSS THE DIVINE LEGATION [Bookl
Principles to be merely visionary : The moral sense iS
notiiing but the impression of education ; the lote of
the species romantic ; and invented by crafty knaves^
to dupe the young, the vain, and the ambitiouSi
Nature, he saith, hath confined us fo the narrow
sphere of self-love ; and our most pompous pretences
of pure disinterestedness, but the more artful disguise
of that very passion. He not only detfie* all moral
difference in actions, antecedent to the Will of God,
Avhich (as we shall shew anon) he might well do ; but
hkewise, all specific difference : will not so tnuch
as alloAv it to be a rule to direct us to the perform-'
ance of God's will ; for that the fiotiotis of fit and unfit
proceed not from that difference, but from the arbitrary'
impositions of Will on\y ; that God is the free cause
of Truths as well as Beings ; and then, consequently,
if be so Avills, two and. two Avould not make four. At
length his system shrinks into a vile and abject selfish^
ness ; and, as he degrades and contracts his natur%
he slips, before he is aware, quite besides his foun
dation, which he professes to be the WiU of Godi
Thus have men, borne away by a fondness to their
own idle systems, presumptuously broken in upon that
TRIPLE BARRIER*, withwhlch God lias been graciously pleased
* St. Paul might have taught them better ; who, cot:
lecting together and enforcing all the motives for the
PRACTICE OF VIRTUE, exprcssetli himself in this manner:
" Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever
" things are honest, whatsoever things are just" — Tif^tmvi
ah>jft\, o<ra Iriv AAH©H, JVa 2EMNA, wa AIKAIA— i?>«)§3
evidently relating to the essential diff'erence qf things ; «a"'«^
(implying something of worlh, splendour, dignity) to the
moril

Sect. 4l OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 239,
pleased to cover and secure Virtue ; and given UAJvan-
tage to the cavils of Libertines and Infidels ; who oa
each of these three Principles, thus advanced on the
mins of the crther two, have reciprocally fiarged a
scheme of Religion independent on Morality*; and
a scheme of Morality independent on Religion f ; vvho,
how different soever their employments may appear,
are indeed but twisting the same rope at difterent
ends: the plain design of both being to ovmhrow
RELIGION. But as the Moralist's is the raore plausible
scheme, it is now becorae most in fashion : So that
of late years a deluge of moral systems hath over
flowed the learned Avorld, in Avhich eitiier the moral
sense, or the essential difference, rides alone triumphant ;
which hke the chorus of clouds in Aristophaties, the
AEfOlH
moral sense which men have of this difference; and SiWa,
just, is relative to tViU or Law. The Apostle proceeds —
" whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely,
" whatsoever tkings are qf good report" — oVa aym, oVa
etfoo^iTJi, oa-a wpi/jui. In these three latter characters marking
the nature of the three preceding : ayta pure, referring to
abstract truth ; wf wr^i^w lovely, amiable, to innate or instinc
tive honesty ; and eU^M/ta! of good report ; reputable, to the
observation of Will or Law. He concludes, " If there be
any virtue, and if there be any praise, think ofthese things."
ef Tif apETM, xj an; I'^suv®; rmra ?ioy/^EffJe. That is, If the
> moral sens* and the essential difference of things can make
the practice of morality, a virtue ; or obedience to a superior
Will, matter of praise, think of these things.
* See The Fable of the Bees, and confer the enquiry
into tjie original qf Moral virtue, and the search into the
nature of society, with the body ofthe book.
t See the fourth Treatise of the Characteristics, intitled,
** An Enquiry concerning Virtue and Merit."

240 THE DIVINE LEGATION IBoofeL
AeWw Nffi^afj the ETEiiNAL RELATIONS, are intrq^
duced into the scenes with a gaudy outside, to supplant
Jupiter, and to teach the arts of fraud and sophistry'^
but in a little time betray themselves to be empty, oh;
scure, noisy, iiripious Nothings.. ¦ ¦
In a word, Avith regard to the several sorts of
Separatists, those, I mean, who are indeed friends to
Reliffion, and who detest the Infidel's abuse of their
principles, I would recommend to their interpretation
the following oracle of an ancient sage.. OT.TAP
ESTIN ETPEIN THS AIKAIOSTNHS AAAHN APXHN
OTAE AAAHN FENESIN, H THN. EK TOT AI02 KAi '
THE KOINH2 €«T2En2.
This noble truth, that the only true foundation and
original of morality^ is the IFill qf God interpreted' by '¦
tke moral sense and essential difference of things, was
a random thought of Chrysippus the Stoic. I ^ve it
this term, i . Because the ancient philosophy teaches
nothing certain concerning the true ground, of moral
obligation. 2. Because Plutarch's quoting it amongst
ihe repugnances of tke Stoics, shews it to be inconsist*
ent with their other doctrine. And indeed, the follow
ing the ancient philosophers too servilely, hath occa-^
sioned the errors' of modern moralists, in unnaturally
separating the three principles of practical morality,^
Plato being the patron of the moral sense ;^ Aristotle
of the essential differences; and Zeno of arbitrary xvill.
And noAv, to come more directiy to our Adversary'*
argument: We say then,
1. That the Atheist can never come to the know.'
ledge of the MORALITY of actions, properly so
called. 3. That

Mt 4.] Of MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 241
2. That though he be capable of being affected
with the moral sense, and raay arrive to the
knoAvledge of the real essential differences in the
qualities of human actions ; yet this sense and
these differences tnake nothing for the purpose of
Mr. Bayle's argument : because these, even in
conjunction, are totally insufficient to influence
Society in the practice of virtue : which influence
is the thing in question.
Both these conclusions, I presumfe, have been clearly
proved from what hath been said above, of the origin
qf Society; and, just before, oi the foundation qf moral
virtue: But that nothing may be wanting to the argu
ment, I shall crave leave to examine the matter with a
Uttie more exactness.
1 . And first, tkat an Atkeist, as such, can never
arrive . to the knozvledge qf the morality of actions
-properly so called, shall be further made good against
. the reasoning which Mr. Bayle brings to prove, tkat
the Morality qf human actions may be demonstrated
on the principles of a Stratonicean, or atheistic Fatalist;
AA'hom he personates in this manner: " The * beauty,
" symmetry, regularity, and order, seen in the universe,
" are the effects of a blind unintelligent Nature; and
" though this Nature, in her workmanship, hath copied
,'", after no ideas, she hath nevertheless produced an
" infinite number of species, with each its distinct
" essential attribute. It is not in consequence of our
* La beaute, la sym^trie, la regularity, I'ordre que I'on
, vpit-dans I'univers, sont Lonvrage d'uiie nature qui n'a
, point de connoissance, 8t qu'encore, 8tc. Cotin. des Pen-
sees diverses, c. cli.
Vol. I. R " opinion.

242 THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookJ.
" opinion, that fire and water differ in species, and ¦
" that there is a like difference between love and
" hatred, affirmation and negation. Their specific
" difference is founded in the nature of the things
" themselves. But how do Ave know tliis? Is it not
" by comparing the essential properties of one of
" these beings Avith the es.sential properties of another
" of them? But we know, by the same way, that
" there is a specific difference between truth and
" falsehood, between good faitii and perfidiousness,
" between gratitude and ingratitude, <§x. We may then
" be assured, that vice and virtue differ specifically by
" their nature, independent of our opinion." This,
Mr. Bayle calls their being naturally separated from
each other: And thus much we allow. He goes on:
" Let * us see now by what Avays Stratonic atheists
" may come to the knowledge of vice and virtue's being
" morally as well as naturally separated. They
" ascribe to the same necessity of nature the esta-
" blishraent of those relations which we find to be
" betAveen things, and the establishment of those
" rules by which we distinguish those relations.-
" There are rules of reasoning independent of the
" will of man : It is not because men have been .
" pleased to fix the rules of syllogism, that therefore'
" those rules are just and true: they are so in them-
" selves, and all the endeavours of the wit of man
" against their essence and their attributes would be
" vain and ridiculous." This likewise we grant hira.
He proceeds : " If then there are certain and imnm-
* Voions comment ils pouvoient savoir qu'elles etoient
outi-e cela separees moralement. Ils attribuoient, 8tc.
Idem ibid. " table

Sect. 4.1 OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 243
" table rules for the operation of the understanding,
" there are also such for the determinations ofthe
" will." But this we deny. He would prove it thus:
"The * rules ofthese determinations are not altogether
" arbitrary ; some of tiiera proceed from the necessity
" of nature; and these impose an indispensable obli-
" gation. The most general of tiiese rules is this,
" that man ought to xcill what is most conformable to
" 7'ight reason: for there Is no truth more evident
" than this, that it is fit a reasonable creature should
" conform to right reason, and unfit that such a crea-
" ture should recede from it." This is his argument.
. To which I reply, that frora thence, no moral differ
ence can arise. He contends that things are both
naturally and morally separable. He speaks of these
ideas as very different (as indeed they are) and proves
the truth of them by difterent arguments. The' natural
essential difference of things then, if we mean any thing
by the terms, hath this apparent property ; that it
creates a fitness in the agent to act agreeably thereto :
As the moral difference of things creates, besides this
fitness, an obligation likewise ; when therefore there is an
obligation in the agent, there is a moral difference in
the things, and so on the contrary, for they are inse
parable. If then we shew, that right reason alone
cannot properly oblige, it ^^'ill follow that the knoAvledge
of what is agreeable to right reason doth not induce a
ifmral difference : or that a Stratonicean is not under
any obligation to act agreea'oly 10 right reason; which
is the thing Mr. Bayle contends for.
* Les regies de ces actes-la ne sont pas toutes arbitraires :
9 y en a qui emanent, 8cc. Idem ibid.
E 2 1. Obligation,

^4 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Bookl.
1. Obligation, necessarily implies an Obliger: the
Obliger must be different from, and not one and the
same with, tbe obliged : to make a man at once
the Obliger and obliged, is the same thing as to make
him treat or enter into compact with himself, whieh is
the highest of absurdities. For it is an unquestienei
rule in law and reason, that whoever acquires a right
to any thing from the obligation of another towards
hira, may relinquish that right. If therefore tbe
Obli*er and obliged be one and the same person,
in that Case all obligation must be void of course;
or rather no obligation Avould have commenced.
Yet the Stratonic atheist is guilty of this absurdity,
when he talks of actions being moral or obUgatory,
For what Being can be found whereon to place tliis
obligation ? VVill he say right reason ? But that is
the very absurdity we complain of; because reamn
is only an attribute of the person obliged, his assistant
to judge of his obligations, if he hath any from
anotiier Being: To make this then the Obliger, is to
make a man oblige himself. J_ If he say, he means
by reason not every man's particular reason, but
reason in general ; I reply, that this reason is a mere
abstract notion, which hath no real subsistence: an^
how that which hath no real subsistence should obUge^ is
still more difficult to apprehend.
2. But farther, moral obligation, that is^ the obliga- ;
tion of a free agent, iraplies a Law, which enjoins and
fdrbids; but a Law is the iraposition of an intelligent
superior, who hath power to exact cdnforniity there
unto. But blind unintelligent Nature is no tawgiveri
nor can what proceeds necessarily from thence come
1 2 under

Sect4.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 245.
under the notion of a Law : we say indeed, in com
mon speech, the law qf necessity, and tke laxv qf
reason a:nd nature; but these arc merely popular ex
pressions: By the first we mean only to insinuate, that
necessity hath, as it Avere, one property of a law,.
namely, that of forci/ig; and by the second, we mean
the rule Avhich the supreme Lawgiver hath laid down
for the judging of his WilL And while this light,
and direction of reason or nature is considered as a
rule only, given by the God qf nature, the term may
be allowed: Those who so considered the term were
the first who so used it. After-Avriters retained the
name; but, by a strange absurdity, separated the Laxv-,
giver from his Law; on a fancy of its being of virtue
to oblige by its own intrinsic excellence, or by tlie
good of which it is productive. But hov/ any thing
except a Law, in the proper philosophic sense, can
oblige a dependent reasonable Being endued with will,.
is utterly inconceivable. The fundamental error in
Mr. Bayies argument seems to be this: He saw the
essential difference of things ; he fouad those diffei"-
ences the adequate object of the understanding ; and
;So too hastily concluded them to be the adequate ob
ject of the xmll likewise. In this he was mistaken:
they are indeed the adequate object of the under
standing; because the mulerstanding is passive inits
perceptions, aad therefore under the sole direction of
these necessary differences. But the w'dl is not pas
sive in its determinations : for instance, that three are
less than fiye, the understanding is necessitated to
jadge, but the ivill is not necessitated to chuse five
feefore three : therefore the essential differences of
B 3 tilings

846 THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookJ.
things are not the adequate object of tiie t^^///;_ the
Law of a Superior must be taken in, to constitute,
obligation in choice, or moraUty in actions.
Hobbes seems to have penetrated f ;rther into thi$
ipatter, than the Stratonicean of Mr, Bayk; he
appeared to have been sensible that morality implied
obligation, and obligation a law, and a law a Law
giver: thf refore, having (as they say) expelled the
Legislator of the universe, that morality of actions
might have some foundation, he thought fit fo under--
prop it with his earthly God, the Leviathan; and ta
make him the creator and supporter qf moral right
and xvrong.
But a favourer of Mr. Bayle's paradox may perhaps
object, that as he was alloAved a fitness, and urfitnesM
in actions, discoverable by the essential difference of
things ; and as this fitness and unfitness implies benefit
and damage to the actor, and others ; it being in fact
seen, that the practice of virtue promotes the happi-?:
ness of the Individual, or at least of the Species, and
that vice obstructs it ; it may be said, that this will
be sufficient to make morality, or obligation, in the.
Stratonic system ; if not in the strict sense of the
word, yet as to the nature of the thing. To this I
reply, that in that Systeni, whatever advanced human
happiness, would be only a natural good ; and virtue
as merely such, as food and covering: and, that which
retarded it, a natural evjl, whether it was vice, pesti
lence, or unkindly seasons, Natural, I say, in contra-^
distinction to moral, or such a good ag any one vA'Ould
be obUged to seek or proraote. For 'till it be made
appear that Man hath received his being from tb%

Sect. 4.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 247
'WiU of another; and so depending on that other, is
accountable to him for it; he can be under no moral
'obligation fo prefer good to evil, or even life to
death. From the nattire of any action, imorality
cannot arise; nor from its efjfcts: not from tiie first,
because, being only reasonable or unreasonable, no
thing follows but a fitness in doing one, and an
absurdity in doing the other: not trom the second,'
because, did the good or evil produced make the
action moral, brutes, from whose actions proceed both
good and evil, would have morality.
If it be farther urged, that the observance of these
essential differences is proraoting the perfection of a
particular system, which contributes, in its concen
tration, to the perfection of the universe; and that
tiierefore a reasonable creature is obliged to con
form thereto : I answer, first, that (on theprinciples
before laid down) to make -a reasonable creature
obliged in this case, he must first be enforced by the
Whole, of ivhich he is part. This enforcement cannot
here be by intentional command, whose object is free
agency, because the Stratonic Whole, or universal
Nature, is blind and unintelligible. It must force
then by the necessity of its nature; and this will,
indeed, make men. obliged as clocks are by weights,
but never as fr-ee agents are, by the comraand of an
intelligent Superior, Avhich only can make actions
moral. But secondly, an uniform perfect Whole can
never be the effect of blind fate; but is the plain
image and impression of one intelligent self-existent
Mind. In a word, as it is of the nature of the
independent first Cause of all things to be obliged only
jjy his own wisdom; so it seems to be of the nature of
R4 all

S4S THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookL
all dependent intelligent beings to be obliged only by
the w'dl of tbe first Cause.
" AU things therefore (says the great Master of
" reason) do work, after a sort, according to Law;.
^' All other things according to a laav, Avhereof,
^' some Superior, to wlsom they are subject, isj'
*¦ Author; only the works and operations of Godt
^' have him both for their worker, and for the Law
'' Avhereby they are Avrought. The Being of God is
*' a kind qf La^v to his working; for that perfect
" tion which God is, giyeth perfection to that he
*' doth*."
Nor does this contradict Avhat we haye asserted, and
not only asserted, but proved, in speaking of moral
obligation, that nothing, hut WiU, can oblige: Because-
our whple reasoning is confined to man's obligation.'
And if there be any thing certain, in the first principles
of law or reason, this must be confessed to be of the
number, that a man can neitker oblige himself, nor be
obliged by names and notions ; so that, to create an
obligation, the Will of some other being must be
found out. A principle, Which the coraraon concep
tions of man, and the universal practice of huraan
life confirms. But, as in our discourse of God, the
weakness of pur intellects constrains us to explain our
conceptions of his nature by human ideas, therefore
when we speak of the moraUty pf his actions, finding.
them to be founded in no other, or superipr Will, we
say, he is obliged only by his own '^'isdom : obligatiMi
when appUed to God, rneaning no more than direction:
for, that an independent being caq be subject tp ob^
* Hooker's Eccl. PoJ. B. I, Sect. 2. p. 3 circa finem. .¦
ligatipij

Seet. 4.]' OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 249
ligation in the sense that a dependent being is subject,
is, by the very teims, an high absurdity. ObUgation,
"therefore, when applied to man, being one thing ; . Avhen
applied to God another ; the strictest rules of logic
will allow different attributes to be predicated of each.
It is confessed, we have a clear and adequate idea of
obligation, as it relates to man; of this obligation Ave
have affirmed something plain and evident: It is lilce-
wise confessed we have a very obscure and inadequate
idea of obligation, as it relates to God : of this obli
gation, too, we have affirmed something, whose evidence
must needs partake of the imperfection of its subject
Yet there have been found Objectors so perverse,
who would not only have clear conceptions regulated
on obscure ; but what is simply predicated of God, to
destroy what hath been proved of man.
But to set this matter in a fuller light, I will
just mention two objections (not peculiar to the
Stfatoniceans) against morality's being founded in
will. Obj. 1. It is said, " That, as every creature neces*
*^ sarily pursues happiness, it is ihat which obliges to
" moral observance, and not the Will of God; be-
"' cause it is to procure happiness that we obey
¦' conimand, and do every other act: and because,
" if th^t Will coraraanded us to do what would
" make us unhappy, we should be forced to disobey it."
Tp this I answer, that when it is said morality is
founded on Will, it is not meant that every Will obliges,
hut that nothing but Will can oblige. It is plain
the Will of an inferior or equal cannot be meant by
it:

2,50 THr DIVINE LEGATION [BookL
it*: it is not simply Will then, but Will so and so
tircumstanced : And why it is not as much Will
which obliges, when it is the WiU of a superior seek-'
inn f"^' o^"'^' ^^ '^'^ ^^^^^ if ^ superior simply, I am
ytt to learn. To say then tiiat happiness and not
\, i',1 makes the obligation, seems like saying, that
A^ hen in mechanics a w eight is raised by an engine, the
xcheels and pulUes are not the cause, but that universal
affection of matter called attraction. Obj. 2. If it
be still urged, " that one can no more be called the
" obliger than the other ; because though happiness
" could not oblige Avithout Will, on the other hand,
" Will could not oblige Avithout happiness ;" I reply,
this is a mistake. Will could not indeed oblige to
unhappiness; but it would oblige to what should pro
duce neither one nor the other, though all consider''
ations of the consequence of obeying or disobeying
Avere away.
Obj. 3. It is said, " Thatif, according to the modern
" notions of philosophy, the will of God be deter-
" mined by the eternal relations of things, they are
" properly those relations (as Dr. Clarke -. would'
" have it) Avhich oblige, and not the Avill of God.
" For if A impel B; and B, C, and C, D; it is A
" and not C that property impels D." But here I
* " Whence comes the restraint [of the Law of Nature] ?
" From a higher Power; nothing else can bind. I cannot
" bind my selfe, for I may untie my selfe again ; nor an
" equal cannot bind me, for we may untie one another,
" It must be a superior power, even God Almighty."— ^
Selbejj's Table Talk, art. Law or Nature. suspe^

Sect. 4-1 OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 2,51
suspect the objection confounds natural cause and
.effect 'vi'ith moral agent and patient; Avhich are two
distinct things, as appears, as on many other accounts,
so from their effects ; the one implying natund neces
sity, the oth^x; only moral fitness. Thus, iu the case
before us, the i ternal relations are, if you will, the
natural. cause, but the will of God is. tiie moral agency:
and our question is, not of natural necessity that results
.from the former, but, of moral fitness that results
from the latter. Thus that which is not properly the
natural cause of my acting, is the raoral cause of it.
And so on the contrary.
On the whole, then, it appears, that Will, and Will
only, can constitute obligation; and, consequentl}^,
ipake actions moral, i. e. such as deserve reward and
punishment. Yet when raen reflect on the aftections
pf their ovvn rainds, and find there a sense of right and
xvrong so strongly impressed a.s to be attended with a
consciousness that the one deserves reward and the
other punishment, even though there Avere no God;
this so perplexes matters, as to dispose them, in oppo
sition to all those plain deduct'ions, to place morality
in the essential difference of things. But would they
consider that that very sensatio7i, Avhich so much mis
leads us in judging of the true foundation of morality,,
is the plainest indication ef will, which, for the
better support of virtue*, so framed and constituted the
* We have explained above the admirable disposition
of things, by the God of nature, for the support of virtue.
And it was from this view that an able writer, who is for
moderating in the dispute about moral obligation, calls the
essential

252 THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookL.
the human raind ; a constitution utterly inconceivable
onthe supposition of wo God; would they, I say, but
considei' this, the difficulty Avould intirely vanish.
But i^o it hath happened, this evident truth, tha*
moraUty is founded in xvill, hath been long controverted
even among Theists. What hath perplexed their dis
putes is, tiiat the contenders for this truth have gene
rally thought themselves obliged to deny the natural
/essential differences of things, antecedent to a Law ;,
supposing, that the morality of actions would follow
the concession. But this is a mistake, which the
rightly distinguishing between things naturally and
morally separable (as explained above) will rectify. That
essential difference qf things, discoverable by' reason, the
internal obligation, and the will of God, tbe external,
J'entends (dit-il) par obligation interne ceWe qui est unique-
ment produlte par notre propre raison, consicler6e comme
la regie primitive de notre condpite, et en consequence de
ee qu'une action a, en elle-meine, de boq oij de mauvjaiis.:
Pour Yobligation externe ce sera celle qui vient de \%
volonte de quelque etre, dont on se reconnoit dependant, et
qui commande ou defend certaines choses, sous la menace
de quelque peine. Biirlamaqui, Principes du droit naturd,
pag. 76. -
If he had called tbe first, the improper oiligation, and tha
ether the proper, his terms had been a great deal more
exact. For it being of the essence of tbe relative tenn,
obligation, to have an outward respect, or external relation,
internal obligation must be a vfery figurative, thaf is to say,
a veiy absurd expression, when applied to man. Perhaps,
indeed, that ruling Nature which draws all machines,
whether brutal or rational (if there be any of the lattej
kind) to pursue happiness, may, in a philosophic sense, be
called the , internal obligation; but, surely, when- applied t,Q
man, supposed a free-agent, the terms are mere jargon,

Sect. 4] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 253
That tiie distinction hath not been made or observed, is
owing to the unlieeded a^tpeiite and aversion of the
moral sense: And their adversaries being in the same
delusion, that the one inferred the other, never gave
themselves any farther trouble, but Avhen tbey had
clearly demonstrated the natural essential difference,
delivered that as a proof of the moral difference,
though tiiey be, in reality, tu^o distinct things, and
independent of each other. More than one of our
ablest writers have not escaped this delusion. Dr. S.
Clarke going on the Principle, that Obligation was
founded in the nature of things, to support it, was per
petually forced to confound moi^al and natural fitnesses
with one another; Avliich makes him, contrarv to his
character, very inaccurate and confused*: And Mr.
Wollaston f, dissatisfied with all the principles, from
which the preceding Avriters of his party had deduced
the raorality of actions, when he had demonstrated,
A*ith ^eater clearness than any before hira, the natural
essential difference of tkings, unluckily mistook it fbr
the moral difference; and thence made the formal
ratio qf moral good and evil, to consist in a coiformity
of metis act'ions to the truth of the case, or otherwise.
For it is a principle with him, that things may be
denied or affirmed to be what they are, by deeds as
Avell as words. But had both parties been pleased to
consider th'is natural essential difference of thitigs, as,
what it must be confessed by both to be, the direc-
IriON WHICH God hath given his creatures
lo BEING THEM TO THE KKOAVLEDGE OF HIS
* Evidence of Nat. and Rev. Relig. 6th ed. p. 5—2,7,
t The lleligion of Nature delineated. WILL;

254 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Bookt
will; and the rule of that avill; the dispute
had been at an end: and they had employed thk
difference, not as the atheist does, for the foundation
of morality ; but, aS all trae theists should do, fo^
the medium to bring us to tiiat only sound foundation?,
the zc'tll and command of God. Those who im*-
gine, as the author of tke Principles of Natural Laxe
seems to do, that this- is only a dispute about words*
are much deceived. The man Avho regards the essen*
tial difference of things as a command or a Law pro
perly so called, hath a very diflesent idea of it, froifl
him aaIio regards it only as a Rule or a Law im'
properly so called. And the reason is plain, because
these relative terms have an essential difference; a Rule,
referring singly ^o those directed by it; but a Laxi
has a double reference; to those governed by it, and to
tiie Lawgiver who gave it. He therefore who regards
it as a Rule, stops short, and rests obligation there
Avhere no obligation can abide : but he who regards it
as a Lazo properly so called (for thPse who consider it
as a mere rule give it the name of law, because they
make obligation to arise from it) rests obligation in a
Lawgiver, and pursues it to its true source, fhe throne
of God.- The dispute, therefore, is not about words,
but things: Or if we will .needs have it to be about
words, it is of the proper and improper use of them,
* Je conclus-^ que les differences qui se trouvent entre
les prineipaux systemes sur la nature &- I'origine de I'obli-
gation, ne sont pas aussi graudes qu'elles le paroissent
d'abord. Si Ton examine de pres ces sentimeris, I'ori
verra que des differentes idees, reduites a ,leur juste valeur,
loin de se trouver en opposition, peuvent se rapprocher—
Builamaqvi, p. 75, 76. , " '
which

Sect. 4j OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 255
which intimately concerns things; indeed Truth
itself nnd common sense. We say a sound is sweet,
or a colour hot ; and as nobody is raisled by these
expressions, Ave hold it foolish to divest them of their
figure, and tbrmally to contend that (strictly and
philosophically speaking) inconsistent properties are
ascribed to tiiera. But should it once be assumed
that a sound may be the subject of taste, and a colour
the subject of touch, it Avould be time, I suppose, to
rectify an absurdity Avhicli tends to confound all our
ideas qf sensation : Just so it is, in the expressions of
truth or happiness, obliging : while these were con
sidered as the rule or rexvard oi actions, given and
imposed by a Master on his sei'vants,' by a Creator on
his creature, the figure was neither forced nor inelegant 5
and did not deserve to be quaiTelled with. But when
the question Avas of real obligation, ¦ in a metaphysic
sense, then, seriously to contend, tiiat it arises fiom
truth or happiness, or from any thing but will, is the
very philosophy of tasting sound and feeling colour ;
and equally tends to the confusion of all our ideas of
reflexion. On the whole then we see, tliat an Atheist, as such,
cannot arrive to the knowledge of morality *.
* One would not have imagined any body could be so
wild to assert, that, oa t'nese principles, it could not be
proved, that a vicious Atheist deserved punisliinent at the
hand of God. To such shrewd discerners, I would recom
mend the following case. Your servant gets drunk; and,
in that condition, neglects your orderS; forgets your relation
to bim, and treats it as an imposture. Does he, or does he
pot, deserve punishment .' When this is resolved, the point
in cjuestion AvJll be so too,
^ 2. We

256 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book 1.
2 We now come to our second conclusion against
Mr. Bayle's argument, " that the idea of the moral
" sense, and the knowledge of the natural essentiai
" difference of things, are, even in conjunction, in^
" sufficient to influence Communities in the practiee
" of vu tue :" But we must previously observe, that
the arguraents, which Ave allow to be conclusive for the
Stratonic atheist's comprehension of the natural essen
tial difference of things, take in only that species of
atheism : the other, whieh derive all from chance and
hazard, are incapable of this knowledge ; and must be
content with only the moral sense for their guide. Let
us therefore _/?r# enquire what this moral sense is able
to do alone, towards influencing virtuous practice; and
'secondly, what new force it acquires in conjunction
witii the knowledge of the natural essential d'lfferenoe
of things.
1 . Men are misled by the narae of instinct (which
Ave allow the moral sense to be) to imagine that its
impressions operate very strongly, by observing their
force in brute animals. But the cases are widely
different : in Beasts, the instinct is invincibly strong,
as it is the sole spring of action : in Man, it is only a
friendly monitor of the judgraent ; and a conciliator, ,
as it were, between Reason and the sensual appetites ;
all which have their turn in the determinations of the
Will. It must consequently be much Aveaker, as but
sharing the power of putting upon action with many
other principles. Nor could it have been otherwise, '
without destroying human liberty. It is indeed of so
delicate a nature, so nicely interwoven into the human
frame and constitution^ and so easily lost or effaced, that ,

Sect. 4.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 257
that some have even denied the existence of a quality,
Avhich, in most of its common subjects, tiiey, have
hardly been able to observe. Insora'uch that one
Avould be tempted to liken it to that candid appearance,
which, as the modern philosophy has discovered to us,
is the result of a mixture of all kinds of primitive
colours : Avhere, if the several sorts be not found in fit
proportions, no AA'hiteness aa ill emerge from the cora
position. So, unless the original passions and appetites
be rightiy tenifiered and balanced, the mo7'al sense can
never shew itself in any strong or sensible effect.-
This being the state of moral instinct, it must evidentiy,
when alone, be too Aveak to influence human practice.
When the moi^al sense is made the rule, and especially
when it Ls the only rule, it is necessary that its recti
tude, as a rule, should be known and ascertained :
But this it cannot be by an Atheist : For till it be
allowed there Mas design in our production, it can
never be shewn that one appetite is righter than
another, though they be contrarious and inconsistent.
The appetite therefore, which, at present, is raost ira-
portunate to be gratified, will be judged to be the right,
how adverse soever to the jnoral sense. But, supposing
this moral sense not to be so easily confounded Avith
the other appetites ; but that it may be kept distinct,
as having this peculiar quality so different from the
rest, that it is objective to a xvkole, or entire species ;
Avhereas the others terrainate in self, or in the private
^stem (though as to whole and parts, an Atheist must
have very slender and confused ideas) ; granting this,
I say, yet national Manners, the issue of tkose appe
tites, would, in time, effectually, though insensibly,
$fiace the idea of the moral sense, ift the generality
Vol. 1. S of

25S THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookL
of men. Almost infinite are the popular Customs^
in the several nations and ages of mankmd, which owe
their birth to the more violent passions of fear, lust,
and anger. The most whimsical and capricious, as
well as the most inhuman and uraiatural, have arisen
fromtiience. Itmust needs therefore be, that customs:
of this original should be as opposite to the moral
sense, as those appetites are, from whence they were
derived. And of how great power. Custom is to erase
tiie strongest impi'essions of Nature, njuch stronger
than those of the moral senses we may learn from that
general practice, which prevailed in the most learned
and polite countries ofthe world, of exposing their
CHILDREN *; whereby the strong instinctive affection
'* Of all the mora;! pairEters, Terence, is tbe man Avho
»eem.s tO' have copied human nature with most exactness.
Yet, his Citizen of universal benevolence, whom, he draw*
with so, much life, in that masterly stroke, homo symiyhumam
nihil a me alienum puto, is the same person who commands
his wife to expose her new-born daughter, and falls into a
passion with her for having committed that bard task to
another, by wbich means the infant escaped death, —
si meum' hnperium exequi valuisses, interemptam oportuit.
Hence even tbe divine Plato reckons the exposing of
infants, if not amongst tbe dictates of nature, yet amongst
tbe prescripts of rigbit reason: For ia his back of laws,,
Avh^ch he composed for the reformation of popular pre- •
judices and abuses in humans Policies, be dea'ees, that
if the parents bad children, after a certain age, tbey should
expose them ; and that so effectually, he says, that they
should not escape dying by famine.. Cbreraes. therefore
speaks both the dictates of Philosophy and Custom, Avhea
he cbaracteiizes such who had any dregs of this natural
instinct remaining, as persona— jzw neque jus^ neque hanm
atque aqifum sciunt, of

Sect. 4.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 259
of Parents for their offspring was violated without
remorse. This Avould lead one into a very beaten common
place." It suffices that the fact is too notorious to be
disputed. And what makes more particularly for iny
argument is, that Custom is a power which opposes
the moral sense not partially, or at certain times and
places, but universally. If therefore Custom in the
politest States, where a Providence was taught and
acknowledged, made such liavock of Virtue; into
what confusion must things run where there is no
other barrier than the feeble idea of the moral sense ?
Nor can it be replied, that the customs here spoken
of, as so destructive to the moral sense, are the product
of false Religions ; which spring and fountain-head
of evil. Atheism at once dries up : For the instance
here given is of a Custom raerely civil ; with which
Rehgion had no manner of concern. And so are a
vast number of others that are carefully collected
by Sextus Empiricus and Montaigne.
2. But now, secondly, for our Stratonic Atheist ; in
whom, we suppose, the moral sense, and the knowledge
qf the essential difference qf tkings act in conjunction
to promote virtuous practice. And in conjunction,
they impart mutual strength to one another : For as
soon as the essential difference is estabhshed and
applied, it becoraes a raark to distinguish the moral
sense from the other appetites, ivhich are irregular and
wrong. And, the moral sense being thus carefully
kept up and supported, the mind, in its metaphysical
reasonings on the essential difference, is guarded from
running into visionary refinements. 8 2 The

26o THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book L
The que^ion tiien is, " Whether a clear convictiqft,
" of right and wrong, abstracted firom all Will a,nd
" Command, and consequentiy, from the expectation
" of reward and punishment, be sufficient to influence
" the generality of Men in any tolerable degree?"
That it is not, will, I suppose, be clearly seen by the
following consideration. All, who have considered
human nature attentiAfcly, have found *, that it is not
enough to make men follow Virtue, that it be owned
to be the greatest good ; Avhich, the beauty, benefit, or
reasonableness of it may evince. Before it can raise
any desire in thera, it must first be Iwought hovap to'
them ; and considered by them as a good that make*
a necessary part of their happiness. For it is not
conceived needful, that a man's happiness shquld
depend on the attainment of the greatest possible
good ; and he daily forms schemes of complete happi
ness without it. But the gratifi^atipn of craving
appetites, moved stroiigly by self-loA^e, being thought to
contribute much to human happiness, and being at thq
same time so opposite to, and inconsistent with Virtue,
the generahty will never be brought to think, that the
uniform practice of it makes a necessary part of human
happiness. To balance these appetites, somethu^'
then, more interesting raust be laid in the scale of
Virtue ; and this can be only rewards and punish
ments, which Religion proposes by a moraUty founded
in Will.
But this may be farther understood by Avhat hath
been observed above, conceming the nature and
original of civil Society. Self-interest, as we there
.Siliew, spurripg to action by hopes and fears, caused
* See Locke's £ssay. Chap, Of Power, §yi. all

Sect. 4.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 261
all those disorders amongst men, which required the
ifemedy of civil Society. And selfiinterest, again,
operating by hopes and fears in Society, afforded
HieanS for the redress of those first disorders ; so far
fertil as &)oiety. could carry those hopes and fears.
For to combat this universal passion of self-love,
another, at least as strong, Avas to be,<ipposed to it ; .
but such a one not being to be found in human nature,
all that could be done .was to turn this yery Passion
5n an opposite direction, and to a contrary purpose.
Therefore, because Society failed (from the natural
deficiency of its plan) in remedying the disorders It was
^stituted to correct, and consequently was obliged to
^all in the aid of Religion, as is above explained ; it is
evident it must proceed still on the same principles
joi hopes and fears. But, of all the three grjaunds of
Morality, the third only thus operating, and an Atheist
ijot having the third. Religion, which only can give it,
must be unavoidably necessary for Society. Or in
jother AA'ords, the moral sense, and the knowledge of
the natural essential diff'erence of tkings in conjunc
tion, will be altogether insufficient to influence the
generality in virtuous practice
.S,EeT. V,
SUT Mr. Bayle, who well undei-stood the fprce of
^is Argument, is unAA^illing to rest.the matter here;
and so casts about for a motive of more general
influence. This, he thinks, he finds in that strong
'appetite for glory, praise, and reputation, Avliich an
Atheist must needs have as well as other mep.. And
|;his ipakes his seqpncl Argument, ^^
s 3 AL ft

262 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book't.
II. " It is most certain *, (says he) that a man
'' devoid of all Religion may be very sensible of
'* worldly honour, and very co\'etous of praise and
' ' g^oi'y- ^^ ^"^^ * ^"® ^"^ himself in a count^
" where ingratitude and knavery expose men to con-
" tempt, and generosity and virtue are admired, Ave
" need not doubt but he will affect the character of
^' a man of honour ; and be capable of restoring a
" trust, eVen Avhere the Laws could lay no hold upon
" him. The fear of passing for a knave Avould
" prevail over his avarice- And as there are men,
" Avho expose theraselves to a thousand inconveni-
" encies, and a thousand dangers, to revenge an
" affront, which perhaps they have received before
" very few witnesses, and Avhich they would readily
" pardon, were it not for fear of incurring infamy
" amongst those with whom they had to do; so
" I believe the same here; that this person, whoni
" we suppose devoid of Religion, would, notwith-
" standing all the opposition of his avarice, be capa-
" ble of restoring a trust, which it could not he legally
" proved he had withheld ; when he sees that his good
" faith will be attended with the applauses pf the
" whole place where he resides; while his perfidy
" might, some time or other, be objected to him, or
" at least so strongly suspected, that he could not
" pass in the world's opinion for an honest man:
" For it is that inward esteem in the minds of otiiers,
" which we aspire at, above all things. The words
* Ii est — fort certain, qu'un homme destitute de foi,
peut etre fort sensible a Thonneur du monde, ^c. Pens.
div. c. 179. y anc^

Sect. 5.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 263
¦" and actions, which mark this esteem, please us on
¦" no other account, than as we ima^ne them to be
" the signs -of what passes in the mind : A machine
•" so ordered as to make the most respectful gesticula-
*' tions, and to pronounce the clearest articulate sounds,
*' in all the detours of flattery, Avould never contribute
*' to give us a better opinion of ourselves, because we
'" should know tiiey were not signs of esteem in the
*' mind of another. On these accounts therefore, he,
"" of AAihom I speali, might sacrifice his avarice to his
*^ vanity, if he only thought he should be suspected
*' oi having violated a trust. And though he might
" even believe himself secure .fi'om aU suspicion, yet,
" still, he could easily resolve to prefer the honour-
¦*' able part to the lucrative, for fear of falling into the
"' inconvenience, which has happened to some, of pub-
" Ushing their criines themselves, Avhiie they slept, or
"' in the transpi^rts of a fever. Lucretius uses this
¦" motive to draw mea, without Religion, to virtua"
To this, I xeply, 1. That it is indeed true, that
commendation and disgrace are strong raotives to raen
sto accommodate themselves tp the opinions and rules
of those, with wliom they converse ; and that those
Tules and opinions, in a good measure, corre^jond, in
most civilized countries, with the nachangeable rule
of right, whatever Sextus Empiricus and Montaigne
have been pleased to say to the contrary. For virtue
€videntiy adyancing, and vice as visibly obstructing
the general good, it is no wonder, that ihat actios
should be encouraged with esteem and reputation,
wherein every one finds his account; and that^ dis
countenanced, by reproach and infamy, which hath
a contrary tefidency. But then we say, that seeing
s 4 this,

264 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book I.
this good opinion of the world may be almost as surdy
gained, certainly Avith more ease and speed, by a Avell
acted hypocrisy than by a sincere practice of virtue, the
Atheist, who lies under no restrainsts with regard to
the moral qualities of his actions, Avill rather chuse to
pursue that road to reputation, which is consistent
with an indulgence of all his other passions ; than that
whereby they will be at constant war with one another;
and where he will be always finding hiraself under the
hard necessity of sacrificing, as Mr. Bayle well ex
presses it, kis avarice to kis vanity. Now this incon
venience he raay avoid by resolving to be honest only
before company, which will procure him enough of
reputation ; and to play the rogue in secret, where
he may fully indulge his avarice, or what other passion
he is most disposed to gratify. That this will be his
systera, who has no raotive, but popular reputation,
to act virtuously, is so plain, that Mr. Bayle was
reduced to the hardest shifts imaginable to invent a
reason why an Atheist, thus actuated by the love of
glory, might possibly behave himself honestly, when
he could do the contrary without suspicion. — " And
" though he might believe himself secure from all
" suspicion, yet still he could easily. resolve to prefer
•' the honourable part to the lucrative, for fear of
" falling into the inconvenience which hatii happened
'\ to sorae, of publishing their crimes theraselves,
?' while they slept, or in the transports of a fever.'*
Lucretius, says he, uses tkis motive to draw men,
witkout religion, to virtue. It had been to the pur-
pose to have told us, what man, fi-om tiie time of
Lucretius to his 6wn, had been ever so drqxin. But
they must know little pf huipan nature, who can sup-
10 pQse,

Sect. 5-1 OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 265
¦pose, that the consideration of these remote, possible
indeed, but very unlikely accidents, hatii ever any
share in the determination ofthe Will, Avhen men are
deliberating on actions- of importance, and disti-acted
-by the shifting uncertain vIcavs of complicated Good
and Evil. But granting it to be likely, or common ;
the man, Mr. Bayle describes, could never get clear
of the danger of that contingency, which way soever
he resolved to act. Let us suppose him to take the
honourable part, even then, sleep or a fever might as
easily deprive him of the reputation he affects: For
I believe there is no man, of this turn, but would be
as ashamed to have it known, that all his virtuous
actions proceeded from a ;selfish vanity, as to be dis
covered to have stretched a point of justice, of which
civil laws could not take cognizance. It is certain,
the first makes a man as contemptible, and much
more ridiculous in the eyes of others, than the latter ;
because the advantage aimed at is fantastical: And
one discovery sleep or a fever is as likely to make as
the other.
But, 2. Supposing our Atheist to be of So timid a
complexion, as to fear that, even in a course of the
best-acted hypocrisy, he may risque the danger of
being discovered, yet as this practice, by which he
so well covers all the lucrative arts of fiaud, enables
him to provide well for himself, he will be easily
brought to hazard all the inconveniencies of a detec
tion, to which, indeed, the course is liable, but
wlijcb it can ^o easily repair : for he has ample expe
rience that though indeed esteem is generally annexed
to apparent gpod actions, and infamj to had; yet
" ' that

266 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Bookl
that there is no virtue which so universally procures
popular Opinion as rickes and power, there being no
infamy which they will not efface or cover : and tiiis
being a road to Opinion which leads him, at the same
time, to the gratificatbn of his other passions ; there
\& no doubt but it Avill be his choice *.
After many detours, Mr. Bayle is, at length, brought
to own, that Atheism is, indeed, in its natural tendency,
destructive of Society ; but then, he insists upon il^
that it never in fact becomes so.
III. Because (and this is his next argument) men do
not act according to their principles, nor set their
•practice by their opinions. He owns this to have veiy
much of a mystery ; but for the fact he appeals to the
observation of mankind : " For if it were not so,"
says hef, " how is it possible that Christians, who
" know so clearly by a Revelation, supported by so
" many miracles, that they must renpunce vice, if
" they Avould be eternally happy, and avoid eternal
" misery ; Avho have so many excellent preachers—
" so many zealous directors of conscience — so many
" books of devotion ; how is it possible, amidst all
" this, that Christians should live, as they do, in the
" most enormous disorders of vice?" And again J,
agreeably to this observation, he takes notice, " that
Aosijuwi ^' olof Itjjrflfls  Hesiod. Op. & Dies, v. 3 1 1 , 31 3.
+ —Si cela n'etoit pas, comment, &c. Pensees diverses,
cap. cxxxvi.
X Cic^ron i'a remarque a I'egard de plusieurs Epicu-
riens, &c c. clxvii. " Cicero

Sect. 5] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 267
" Cicero hath remarked, that many Epicureans, con-
" trary to their principles, were good friends and
" honest men ; who accommodated tiieir actions,
" not to their principle, the desire of pleasure, but to
" the rules of reason." Hence he concludes : " That
" those lived better than they talked ; Avhereas others
" talked better than they lived. The sarae remark,"
says he, " hath been made on the conduct of the
" Stoics : their principle Avas, that all thihgs arrived
" by an inevitable necessity, which God himself Avas
" subject to. Now this should naturally have termi-
" nated in inaction; and disposed them to abstain
" from exhortations, promises, and menacing. On
" the contrary, there was no sect of philosophers raore
" given to preaching; or Avhose Avhole conduct did
" mpre plainly shew, that they thought themselves
" the absolute masters of their own destiny." The
conclusion he draAvs from all this, and much more
to the same purpose, is *, that " therefore Religion
" doth not do that service towards restraining vice as
'^ is pretended ; nor Atheism that injury in encou-
" raging it : while each professor acts contrary to his
" proper principle."
Now from this conclusion, and from words dropped
up and down \, of the mysterious quality of this phee-
* Contin. des Pens. div. cap. cxlix.
+ Je congois que c'est une chose bien etrange, qu'un
hpmmec|ui vit bien moralement, & qui ne croit ni paradis,
Bl enfejr. Mais j'en reviens toujours-M, que rhomme est
une certaine creature, qui avec toute sa raison, n'agit ipas
toujours consequement a sa creance ; ce seroit une chose
plus infinie que de parcourir toutes les bizarj-eries de
I'homme. Uiie Monstre plus monstrueu.K que les Centaure?
& que la Chimera de la fable. Pens. div. cap. cLxxvi .
nomenpn,

26$ THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookL
nomenon, one Avould suspect Mr. Bayle thought that
there was some strange Principle in man, that unac
countably disposed hira to act in opposition to his
opinions, whatsoever they Avere. And indeed, so he
must needs suppose, or; he supposes nothing to the
purpose : for if it sliould be found, that this Principle
sometimes disposes men as violently to act flccor</i!«^
to tiieir opinions, as at other times it incline!^ the*
to aet against them, it Avill do Mr. Bayle's argument
no service. And if this Principle should, after all,
jouly prove to be the violence of the irregular appetites,
it Avill conclude directly against hira. And by good
luck, AV8 have our Adversary himself confessing, that
this is indeed tiie case : for though, as I said, he com
monly affects to give our perverse conduct a mysterious.
air, the necessary support of the sophistry of his coife
elusion ; yet, wjieii he is off his guard, we have hira
declaring the plain reason of it; as where he says,
" Tise * geneial idea we entertain of a man, whb
" believes a God, a heaven and a hell, leads us to
" think, that he would do every thing which he knows
," agreeable to the Avill of Gt)d ; and avoid every thing
" which he knows to be disagreeable to it : But the life
" of man shews, he does the direct contrary. The
'' reason is this ; ]\fan does not determine himself to
" one action rather thau another by the general knowr
" ledge of what he ought to do, but by the particular
" judgment he passes on each distinct case, when he is
" on the point of proceeding to action. This particular
" juilgmentmay, indeed, be conformable to those genC'
" i'A ideas oifit and right ; but, for the most part, it is
'" not so. He complies almost always, with the reigning
¦? i;idee generale veut que, gtc. Pens. diy. C cxxxv;
- ' '" passior^

Sect. 5.] OF MOSES DExMONSTRATED. 269
" passion ofthe heart, to the bias ofthe temperament.
" to the force of contracted habits," Scc. Now if this
be tiie ease, as in truth it is, we must needs draw from
this Principle the very contrary cenclusion. That if
men act, not according to iheir opinions, and that it is
the force of the irregular appetites Avhich causes this
perversity, a Religionist will often act against his
principles; but au Atiieist, always cojformably to
them : because an Atheist indulges his vicious passions,
while he acts according to kis principles, in the sarae
manner that a Religionist does, when he acts against
h'lS. It is therefore only accidental that men act con
trary tp their opinions ; then, w hen they oppose their
passions : or in Mr. Bayle's w-ords, when the general
Imowledge qf wkat one ougkt to do, doth not coincide
xi)ith the particular Judgment we pass on each distitict
case; which judgment is generally directed by the
passions : But that coincidence ahvays happens in an
Atheist's determination of hiraself to action : so that
the matter, when stripped of the parade of eloquence,
and cleared frora the perplexity of the abounding
verbiage, lies open to this easy answ^er.
We allow, men frequently act contrary to their
opinions, both metaphysical and moral, in the cases
Mr. Bayle puts.
1. In metaphysical, where the Principle contradicts
common sentiments, as the stoical fate, and chr'ist'ian
predestination * : there, men rarely act in conforraity
to their opinions. But tiiis uistance doth not at all
affect the question, though Mr. Bayle, by his manner
pf urging it, would insinuate, that an Atheist might be
* Pens, div., c. clxxvi. no

270 THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookL
no more influenced in practice, by his speculati.ve
opinion of no Ged, than a Fatalist by his, oi no liberty.
But the cases are widely different : for, as the ex
istence of God restiains all the vicious appetites by
enforcing the duties of morality, the disbelief of it,
by taking off that restraint, would suffer, nay invite,
the Atheist to act according to bis principles. But the
opinion of fate having no such effect on the morality
of actions, and at the same time contradicting common
sentiraents, we easily conceive how the raaintainers of
it are brought to act contrary to their principles. Nay,
it will appear, Avhen rightiy considered, that the Atheist
would be so far from not acting according to his opi
nions, that were his principle of nq God, added to
the fatalist's of no Uberty, it would then occasion the
fatalist to act according to his opinions, though' he
acted contrai-y to them before ; at least, if the cause
Mr. Bayle assigns for men's not conforming their
practice to their principles, be true : for the sole
reason why the fatalist did not act according to his
opinions, was, because they could not be used, while
he was a Theist, to the gratification of his passions ;
because, that though it appeared, if there were no
liberty, men could have no merit ; yet believing a God^^
the rcAvarder and punisher of men, as if they had
merit, he would act likewise as if they had. But take
away from him the belief of a God, and there would,
be then no cause why he should not act according
to his principle oi fate, as far as relates to moral
practice. 2. Next, in morals. We OAvn that men here like
wise frequentiy act contrary to their opinions: For the
view

Sect. 5.1 OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 271
view (as we observed above) of the greatest confessed
possible good, which to a religionist, is the practice of
virtue, will never, till it be considered as making a
necessary part of our happiness, excite us to ti'ie pur
suit of it : and our irregular passions, Avhich are of a
contrary nature, while they continue importunate, and
while one or other is perpetually soliciting us, willi
prevent us firom thus considering virtue as making a
necessary part of our happiness. This is the true
cause of all tiiat disorder in the life of man, which
Philosophers so much admire; Avhich the Devout
lament ; and for which the Moralist could never find
a cure: Where the appetites and reason are in per
petual confiict; and the man's practice is continually
opposing his principles. But, on the other hand, an
Atheist, whose opinions lead him to conclude, sensual
pleasure to be tke greatest possible good, must,' by the
concurrence of his passions, consider it as making a
necessary part of kis happiness : and then nothing cara
prevent his actii^ according to kis principle^..
We own, however, that the Atheist, Mr. Bayk de
scribes, would be as apt, nay apter, to act against his
opiniMis than a Theist: but they are only those slender
opinions conceming tke obligation to virtuous practice
which Mr. Bayle hath given hira : for if men do not
pursue the greatest confessed possible good, till they
consider it as making a necessary part of tiieir
happiness; I ask, wbich is the likeliest means of
bringing them so to consider it ? Is it the reflection
of tke innate idea of tke loveliness of virtue ; or the
more abstract contemplation on its essential difference^
to vice ? (and these are the only views in which an
Atheist can consider it) or ia it not rather the belief, that

272 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book L
that the practice of virtue,^ as religion teaches it, is
attended with an infinite reward ? To those opinions, I
say, an Atheist is like enough to run counter : but his
principles of irapiety, Avhich cherish his passions, Ave
must never look to find at variance Avith his actions;
for our adversary tells us that the reason why practice,
and principle so much differ, is the violence of human
appetites : from which a plain discourser Avould have
draAvn the contrary conclusion; that tiien, there is the
greater necessity to enforce religion, as an additional, '
curb to hcentiousness ; for, that a curb it is, at least in
sorae degree, is agreed on all hands.
And here, at parting, it may not be amiss tp ob'
serve, hpw much this argument weakens one of the
foregoing : There Ave are made to believe, that the moral
seme and essential differences are sufficient to make
men virtuous: Here we are taught, that these, with the
sanction of a Providence to boot, cannot do it in any
tolerable degree.
As to the lives of his Epicureans, and other Atheists,
Avhich we now corae to;' the reader is first of all desired
to take notice of the fallacy he would here obtrude
upon us, in the judgment he makes of the nature of thq
tv\'o different principles, by setting together the effects
oi Atheism, as they appear, in the majority, of half a
score men; and those of Religion, as they appear in
the majority of infinite raultitudes : A kind pf sophism,
which small sects in religion have perpetually in their
mouths, when they compare their own moralp Avith
thpse in large coraraunities, from which they dissent.
And now, to come to his palmary argument takeq
from fact,. For, IV. In

Sect 5.J OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 273
. IV. In the last place, he says* " tiiat the lives of
•' the several Atheists of antiquity fully shew, that this
" principle does not necessarily produce depravity of
"morals." He instances in Diagoras, 'J'/icodorus,
Evemerus, Nicanor, and Hippon : " whose \irtue
" appeared so admirable to a Father of the Church,
" that he Avould enrich Religion Avith it, and make
" Theists of them, in spite of all Antiquity." And
tlien descends to " Epicurus, and his followers, Avhom
" their very enemies acknoAvledged to be unblaiiie-
" able in their actions, as the Roman Atticus, Cassius,
" and the elder Pliny:" and closes this illustrious
catalogue Avith an encomium on the morality of Vanini
and Spinosa: But this is not all; for he tells us
fartherf, of whole nations of Atheists, " which mo-
" dem travellers have discovered in the islands or
" continents of Afoic and America, that, in point of
" morals, are rather better, not worse, than the
" idolaters Avho live around them. It is true, that
" these Atheists are,savages, without laws, magistrate,
" or civil policy: but this (he says);]: supplies him
" Avith an argument a fortiori: for if they live
" peaceably together out of civil society, much rather
" would they do so in it, where equal laws restrain
" men from injustice." He is so pleased AA'ith this
argument, that he reduces it to this enthymeme^:
* Pens, diver, c. clxxiv. & Contin. des Pens, divei-i,
c.cxliv. t Contin.' des Pens. div. c. Ixxxv. & cxliv,
. J Contin. des Pens. div. c. cxviii.
§ Des peuples athles divises en families iadependanten
|e sont, &c.
Vol. I, T *¦ Whole

274 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book L
" Whole nations of Atheists, divided into indepen-
" dent families, have preserved themselves from
" tirae iramemorial without law.
" Therefore, much stronger reason have we to think
" they would still preserve themselves, were they
" under one common master, and one common law,
" the equal distributer of rewards and punishments."
In answer to all this, I say (having once again re
minded the reader, that the question between us is,
whether atheisni would not kave a pernicious effect on
tke body qf a people iti society)
1 . That as to the lives of those philosophers^ and
heads of sects, which Mr. Bayle hath thought fit so
much to applaud, nothing can be collected frora thence,
in favour of the general influence of atheism on mo
rality. We will take a view of the several motive*
those men had to the practice of virtue: for thereby
it will be seen, that not one of these raotives (pecuhar
to their several characters, ends, and circumstances)
reaches the gross body of a people, seized with the
infection of this principle. ' In some of them it was
the jnoral sense, and the essential difference qf things,
that inclined them to virtue; but we have fully sliewU'.
^above, that these are too weak to operate on the gene
rality of raankind ; though a few studious, contempla
tive Men, of a more refined imagination and fehcity of
temperaraent, might be indeed influenced by them. In
others it was a warm passion for fame, and Ipve of
glpry. But thpugh all degrees of men have this
passion equally strong, yet all have it not equally pure"
and delicate ; so that though reputation is what all
4 aflfect,

Sect. 5.} OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 275
affect, yet the gross body of raankind is little solicitous
from whence it arises ; and reputation, or at least the
marks of it, which is all the people aspire to, we have
shewn, may be easily gained in a road very far frora the
real practiceof virtue : in which road too, the people are
most strongly terapted to pursue it. Very small then
is the number of those, on vA-hora these motives would
operate, as even Pomponatius, in his ample confession
taken above, hath acknoAvledged : and yet these are
the naost extensive motives that these philosophic
Atheists had to the practice of virtue : for, in the rest,
the mctive must be ow ned to have been less leg;itimate,
and restrained to their peculiar ends or circumstances;
as concern forthe credit of the sect they had founded, or
espoused; which they endeavoured to ennoble by this
spurious lustre. It is not easy for a Modern to conceive,
how tender they were ofthe honour of their Principles :
The conference betAveen Pompey and Posidomus the
Stoic, is a well-known story* : and if the fear of only
appearing ridiculous by their principles v\'ere strong
enough to make them do such violence to themselves,
what must we believe the fear of becoming generally
odrous would do, where tbe principle has a natural
tendency, as we see Cardan frankly confessed, to make
the holder of it the object of public abhorrence ? But
if the sense of shame were not strong enough, self-
preservation would force these men upon the practice
of virtue: for though, of old, the Magistrate gave
great indulgence to philosophic speculations ; yet thi^
^wnright principle of atheism being universally un
derstood to be destructive to Society, He frequently let
loose his severest resentment against the maintainers
* Tusc. Disp. 1. ii. c, 25. Edit Oxon. 4°. t. H. p. 297.
T 3 of

276 THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookL
of it: so that such bad no other way to disarm his '
vengeance, tiian in persuading him by their lives,
that the principle had no such destructive tendency.'
In a Avord then, these motives being peculiar to the
leaders of sects, Ave see that the virtuous practice
arising frora thence raakes nothing for the point in
question. 2. But he comes much closer to it, in his next in
stance; Avhich is of whole nations of modern Savages,
w ho are all atheists, and yet live more virtuously than
their idolatrous neighbours. And their being yet
unpolicied, and in a state of nature, raakes, he thinks,'
the instance conclude raore strongly for hira. Now, to
let the truth of the fact pass unquestioned ; though
Homer seemed to have a very different opinion of the
matter, when he raakes the atheistical Cyclops to be
the most unjust and violent, as well as raost brutal,
race of men upon earth. And what faith raight be
expected frora such a people, the poet gives us to
understand, in that fine circurastance, where one of
them was accosted by Ulysses, who was then a stranger
to their Principles. This wary hero, imploring the
assistance of a Cyclop, tells hira with great openness
who he was, whence he came, and the sum of his ad
ventures. But no sooner had the Monster professed
himself a thorough free-thinker, than the ex
perienced traveller lost all hopes of faith or justice
frora him; and frora that moment, put himself upon
his guard, and would not trust him Avith one word of
truth, more. But

Sect. 5.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 277
But I say, to let this pass, I shall endeavour to detect
the sophistry of bis conclusion (which I had before
obviated in the second section *, concerning the insuffi
ciency of human Laws alone) in a fuller explanation
of that reasoning.
It is notorious, that man in Society, is incessantiy
giving the affront to the public laws. To oppose
Avhich, the Community is as constantly busied in
adding new strength and force to its ordinances. If
we enquire into the cause of this perversity, we shall
find it no other than the number and violence pf the
appetites. The appetites take their birth from our
real or imaginary wants: our real wants are unalter
ably the same ; and, as arising only from the natural
imbecility of our condition, extremely fcAv, and easily
relieved. Our fantastic Avants are infinitely nume
rous, to be brought under no certain measure or
standard; and increasing exactly in proportion to our
improvements in the arts of life. But the arts of life
owe their original to Society f; and the more perfect
the Policy, the higher do those improvements arise ;
and, with thera, are our wants, as we say, proportion
ably increased, and our appetites inflamed. For the
violenee of these appetites, which seek the gratification
of our iraaginary wants, is rnuch stronger than that
* See p. 206.
t There is one remarkable circumstance in the Mosaic
history, that I should fancy, must needs give ourfre^-thinkeis
a high idea of the veracity or penetration oi the author. It
is, where, having represented Cain ag the first who built a
city, or made advances towards civil society, he informs us,
that his posterity were the inventors of the arts of life, in
the instances he gives of Jabal, Jubal, aqd Tubal-Cain.
T 3 raised

27S THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookL
raised by our real wants: not only because those
Avants are more numerous, Avhich give constant exercise
to the f..rp elites; and more unreasonable, which make
the gr-ati.ncdtion proportionably difficult : and altogether'
unnatural, to which there is no measure; but, princi
pally, because vicious curto.n hath affixed a kind of
reputation to the gratification of the fantastic wants,
Avhich it hatii not done to the relief of the real ones.
So that when things are in this state, we have shewn
above, that even the most provident Laws, without
other assistance, are insufficient. But in a state of
nature, unconscious of the arts of life, men's wants
are only real ; and these wants, few, and easily
supplied. For food and covering are all which are
necessary to support our Being. And Providence ils
abundant in its provisions, for these wants: aiid
tvhile there is raore than enough for all, it can hardly be,
that there should be disputes about each man's share. '
And now the reader sees clearly how it might well
be, that this rabble of Atheists should live peaceably ill
a state of nature, though the utraost force of humafi
Laws, in the improved condition of Society, coul3
not hinder them from running into mutual- violence.
But the sophistry of this enthymeme is further seen
from hence. Not even Mr. Bayle himself Avould pre- "
tend that these Atheists, whp live peaceably in their
present state, without the restraint pf human laws,
would live peaceably A'lithout this restraint, after they
had understood and practised the arts of life in credit
amongst a civilized people. In Society therefore,
which the arts of Hfe inseparably accompany, an im
posed carb, he will own, would be necessary. I then ,
argue thus. If a people, who out of Society doulii live

Sect-s-l OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 279
live peaceably without the curb of Law, could not live
^leaceably without tiiat curb in Society; you have no
reason to believe, that though out of society they
.might live peaceably without the curb of religion,
•they could live peaceably, ivithout that curb, in Society?
¦ The answer to this must bring on again tiie question.
How strong the curb on man, in Society, should be ?
which we have fully exarained in another place. This
argument, therefore, proves nothing but the fplly of
..pretending to conclude, concerning raan in Society,
fi-om what Ave see of his behaviour, out of it.
And here, in conclusion, once for all, it__raay not b§
amiss to observe, the uniform strain of sophistry
which runs through all jNIr. Bayies reasonings on
this head. The question is, and I have been frequently
obliged to repeat it, he so industriously- affecting to
-forget or mistake it, Whether Atheism be destructive
to the body qf a Society ? And yet he, whose business
it is, to prove the negative, brings all his arguments
from considerations, Avhich either affect not the gross
body of mankind, or affect not that body, in Society :
in a word, from the lives of Sophists or Savages ; from
the example of a few speculative raen far above the
vievv of the coramon run of citizens ; or from that
of a barbarous crew of savages much farther below
it. All his facts and reasonings then being granted,
they still fall short and wide pf his' conclusion.
But the last stroke of his apology is more extra
vagant than all the rest : for having proved atheism
very consistent with a state of nature, lest it should
happen to be found not so consistent with civil society,
but that one of them must rise upon the ruins of the
dther, he gives a very palpable hint, which of tiie tAvo
T 4 ' be

28o THE DIVINE LEGATION [Bookt.
he thinks should b° reserved; by making it a serious
question, discussed. in a set dissertation*, avhether
CIVIL SOCIETY BE ABSOLUTELY NEC SSARY FOR
THE PRESERVATION OF MANKIND f?' and Very
gravely resolviuif it in the negative. — And here let me
ebserve, that these Philosophers (as Mess. Voltaire''
and U Alembert call all those who despise Religion)
never suffer a good hint to lie unimproved. The
famous citizen of Geneva building upon this before
us, hath since written a large Discourse, to shew that
Civil Society is even HujiTruL to mankind.

SECT. VL
I HAVE here given, and to the best advantage,
all the arguments Mr. Bayle hath employed to
prove Religion not necessary to civil Society; by
which it may be seen, how little the. united force of
Avit and eloquence is able to produce for the support
of so outrageous a paradox.
The reader will iraagine, that noAv nothing can hinder
us from going on to our second proposition ; after having
so strongly supported the first. But m e have yet to
combat a greater monster in morals, before we cp
proceed. As the great foundation of our proposition, that
the doctrine of a future state of rexvards and punish
ments is necessary to civil society, is this, that religion
is necessary to civil society ; so the foundation of this
* Contin. des Pens. div. c. cxviii,
t Si les societez sont absolument necessalres pour coU'
server le genre humain, latter

Sect. 6.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 2S1
latter proposition is, that virtue is so. Now, to the
lasting opprobrium of our age and country, we have
seen a. writer publicly maintain, in a book so intitled,
that private vices Avere .public benefits. An
unheard-of irapiety, Avickedly advanced, and impu
dently avoAved, against the universal voice of nature:
in which moral virtue is represented as the invention
of knaves; and christian rirtue as the imposition of
fools: in which (that his insult on common sense
might equal u hat he puts on coraraon honesty) he as
sures his reader, that his book is a system of most
exalted morals and religion : And that the justice qf
his country, which publicly accused him*, was pure
calumny. But I shall undertake to shcAv, and that in very fcAV
words, to the admirers of the Ioav buffoonry and im
pure rhetoric of this w^ordy declaimer, that his whole
fabric is one confused heap of falsehoods and ab
surdities. I. First then, it is to be observed, that though his
general position be, that private Pices are public
benefits, yet, in his proof of it, he all along explains
it by Vice only in a certain measure, and to a certain
degree. And, as all other Avriters have deduced the
necessity on private men in society, to be virtuous, and
on the raagistrate severely to punish vice, from the
maUgnity qf' the nature of Vice; so he enforces this
necessity, on both, frora the malignity of its excess.
And indeed he had been only fit for Bedlara, had he not
given this restriction to the general sense of his pro
position. * By the Grand Jury of Middlesex. However,

282 THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookL
HoAvever, this is full enough lo expose the falsehood
of that assertion, which his Avhole bpok is Avritten to
support, narael}', that vice is absolutely necessary for
a rich and powerful Society. For whatsoever is absch
• lutely necessary to the Well-being of another in matter
of morals, raust Tae so, by" its essential properties; the
use of Avhich thing will be, then, in proportion to its
degree. And this the coraraon moralists observe of
Virtue with regard to the State. But whatsoever is
useful to another, only Avhen in a certain degree, is not
so by its essential properties ; if not by its essential
properties, then, of course, by accident only; and, if
by accident, not necessary.
The first part of the former assertion raay be proved
thus. If A be absolutely necessary to B, it is, be
cause neither C, nor D, nor any thing but A can supply
the Avants of B. But if npthing but A, can supply
these wants, it is because the supplial is affprded by
the essent'ial properties of A ; which essential proper
ties are incoraraunicable to all other beings ; the cpm-
munication of them to C, D, &;c. making C and D
the same as A, which is absurd : for if the supplial of
the wants of B were icaused by Avhat was not essent'ial
to A, but accidental ; then might these A*ants as well
be supplied by C, D, %c. as by A; because that
Al hich is accidental only, may belong in common to
several different beings. The second part may be
proved tiius ; These essent'ial qualii'ies can nexier be ex
cessive ; as for instance, There can never be too much
Virtue in a state. Spec'fic Virtues, indeed, raay be
pushed to excess; but then they lose their nature, and
become Vices; in which state of things, Society Avill be
so far from having too much, that it Avill have too little
Virtue.

Sect. 6.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 283
Virtue. It is not so Avith g-e«enc Virtue ; therefore
that essent'ial Quality in A, Avliich in a lower degree
profits B, must in a higher degree be still more useful
to B. On the otiier hand, accidental Qualities may be
excessive ; so that, that accidental Quality in A, Avhich
profiteth B in a lower degree, may injure B in a
higher. This is the case of real luxury, in its
effects on Society ; as will be shcAvn in the progress of
this section : for though a specific Virtue carried to an
excess becomes Vice, yet a Vice, so pushed on, never
becomes Virtue ; but, on the contrary," by advancing
in malignity, more clearly evinces its true nature, and
exposes its baleful effects.
From all this, it appears, that a great and powerful
Community, which is, in itself, a natural good, and, as
such, desirable, may procure and preserve its grandeur
without Vice, though Vice so frequently produces and
supports it: because this utility of Vice not arising
fi-om its essential qualities', but from some accidental
circumstances attending it, may be supplied by sorae
thing that is not Vice, attended with the sarae circum
stances. As for instance, the consuraption of the
products qf art and nature is the circurastance which
jnakes states rich and flourishing. Now if this con
sumption may be procured by actions not vicious,
then may a State become great and powerful with
out the assistance of Vice. That it raay, in fact, be
thus procured, shall now be shewn.
IL The Author, descending to the enuraeration of
his prppfs, appears plainly to have seen, that Vice in
general was onl-y accidentally productive oi good; and
therefore avoids entering into an examination of par
ticulars^

2S4 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book I,
ticulars; but selects, out of his favourite trib?,
luxury, to support his execrable paradox; and on
this alone rests his cause. By the assistance of this
ambiguous term, he keeps something like an argument
on foot, even after he hath left all the rest of his City-
crew to shift for themselves. And it must be owned,
there is no word more inconstantly and capriciously
applied to particular actions; or of more uncertain
meaning, when denominating such actions, than the
term Luxury. For, unapplied, it has, like all other
moral modes, an exact and precise signification ; and
includes in it, the abuse of the gifts of Previdence,
The difficulty is only to know when this question, is
abused. Men have two Avays of deciding: the one, by
the pi-'inc'iplcs of Natural religion ; the other, by the
positive institutions of Revealed. In those Principles .
all men are reasonably well agreed ; but, concerning
these Institutions, when taken separately, and inde
pendent on those Principles, there are various opinions,
which superstition and fanaticism have greatly distorted :
consequently, those ^vho estimate Luxury by this
latter rule, (where obscurity, and of course confusion,
are so difficult to be avoided) will disagree extremely
about it; and amongst such diversity of notions, it
would be strange indeed, if some or other had not
ideas of Luxury, which would serve the ivildest
hypothesis; and rauch stranger, if so corrupt a Writer
did not take advantage of them. He has done it like
a master: and with a malice and cunning to intitle
him, though he be but a follower, to be a Leader pf a
sect First, in order to perplex and obscure our idea pf
Luxwy, he hath laboured in a previous dissertation, .
on

Sect. 6.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 285
on the origin of moral virtue, to destroy those very
principles, by Avhose assistance Ave are only able to
clear up and ascertain that idea; where he decries
and ridicules the essential difference of thinsis, the
eternal notions of right and Avrong; and makes
virtue, which coramon moralists deduce from thence,
the offspring of craft and pride.
Nothing now being left to fix the idea of Luxury,
but the positive precepts of Christianity, and he hav
ing stript these of their only true and infallible inter
preter, the principles of natural Religion ; it was easy
for him to make those precepts speak in favour of any
absurdities that \a ould serve his purpose, and as easy
to find such absurdities supported by the superstition
and fanaticism of some or other of those many Sects
and Parties of Christianity, who, despising the prin
ciples of the Religion of Nature as the xceak and
beggarly elements, soon carae to regard the natural
appetites, as the graceless furniture of the old man,
xvith his affections and lusts.
Having got Christianity at this advantage, he
gives us for Gospel, that meagre Phantom begot by
tlie hypocrisy of Monks on the misanthropy of
Ascetics: which cries out, an abuse! whenever tiie
gifts of Providence are used, further than for the bare
support of nature. So that by this rule every thing be
comes Luxury which is raore than necessary. An idea
of Luxury exactiy fitted to our Author's hypothesis :
for if no State can be rich and poAverful while its
members seek"' only a bare subsistence, and, if what is
more than a bare subsistence be Luxury, and Luxury
be Vice ; the consequence, we see, comes in pat,
yaiVATE vices are public benefits. Here you
have

286 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book L
have the sole issue of all this tumour of words. But it
is difficult to think, that a Writer of .such depravity
of heart, had not farther ends in this kicked representa
tion of natural and revealed Religion. We cannot
doubt his purpose, when we reflect upon his gains,
which are, the fixing of his followers in a propensity for
Vice, and in a prejudice against Christianity. For
what can be mpre in favour of Vice, than, that there is
ho moral duty ? What raore in discredit of Christianity,
than, that all the enjoyments of hfe are condemned by
it as evil ?
III. But the gospel is a very different thing from
what Bigots and Fanatics are wont to represent it. It
enjoins and forbids nothing in moral practice, but what
natural Religion had before enjoined and forbid.
Neither indeed could it, because one of God's Revela
tions, whether ordinary or extraordinary, cannot con
tradict another ; and because God gave us the first,
to-judge of others, by it. Accordingly we find, that
though it be indeed one of the great ends of Christi
anity (but not the main and peculiar end) to advance
tiie practice of moral virtue araongst men, yet the
New Testainent doth not contain any regular or com
plete system or Digest of moral laws ; the detached
precepts enforced by our divine Master in it, how
excellent and perfect soever, arising only from the*
occasions and circumstances which gave birth to those '
discourses or writings, in which such precepts are
delivered. For the rest, for a general Imowledge of
the system of moral-duty, the founders of our Religion
hold open to us tiie great Pandect of the law of nature,
and bid us search and study that. Fimdly, says the
apostiei

Sect. 6.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 287
a|K)stle Paul, whatsoever tkings are true, whatsoever
things are honest, xvhatsoever things are just, what
soever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of
good report ; think on these tkings. But where vicious
custom, or perverse Interpreters, had depraved the
Religion of Nature, there, particular care was taken
to remove the rubbish of time and malice, and to
reinstate the injured moralities in their priraitive
dignity and splendor.
The Religion qf Nature, then, being restored, and
made the rule to explain and interpret the occasional
precepts of Christianity ; what is Luxury by naturat
Religion, that,' and that only, must be Luxury by
r&Kaled. So that a true and precise definition of it,
which this Writer (triumphing in the obscurity which,
by these arts, he hath thrown over the idea) thinks it
impossible to give, so as not to suit with his hypothesis,
is easily settled. Luxury 'is the using., the gifts of
Providence, to tke injury qf tke User, eitker in kis
person or fortune ; or to .tke iiyury qf any otke}\
towards wkom the User stands in any relation, wkich
ebUges him to aid and assistance.
Now it is evident, even fi-pm the instances this
Writer brings of the pubhc advantages of consumption,
which he indiscriminately, and therefore falsely, calls
Luxury, that the utraost consumption may be made,
and so all the ends of a rich and poAverful Society
served, without injury to the User, or any dne, to-
whom he stands related : consequently Avithout Luxury,
aud without Vice. When the consumption is attended
with .such injury, then it becomes Luxury, theji it
becomes a Vice. But then, let us take notice, that
this Vice, like all others, is so far from being advanta geous

28S THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookL
geous to Society, that it is the most certain ruin of it.
It M as this Luxury which destroyed Rome. And the
very definition given' above, informs us of the manner
how it came to pass : namely, by enervating the body, de
bauching the mind, beggaring the fortune, and bringing
in the practice of universal rapine and injustice. But
the Avretched absurdity of suppos^ing Luxury beneficial
to society, cannot be better exposed, than by consider
ing, tiiat, as Luxury is the abusing the gifts of Provi
dence, to the injury of himself and of those to whom
we stand related ; and as, the PubUc is that, to which
every man stands nearest related; the consequence is,
that Luxury is, at one and the same time, beneficial
and injurious to the Public. Nor can the absurdity
I here charge upon him, be evaded by saying it is de
duced from a proposition of his, and a definition of
mine, set together ; Because, however Ave may differ,
whether the use of things, Avliere no one is injured,
be Luxury ; yet we both agree in this, that where
there is tftat injury hi the use, it is Luxury ; and
Luxury, in this sense, he holds to be beneficial to
Society. The case I here put, of Litxurfs injuring the
PUBLIC, by depriving the state of that aid and assist
ance from particulars, w hich, the relation they stand in
to it, requires them to give, is no imaginary or unlikely
supposition. This effect of Luxury it was vihicli
contributed, more imraediately than any other, to the
destruction of the Roman Comraonwealth. For in
the last struggles for liberty by a few, against the
humo'ir of a debauched luxurious people, uhen no-
thuig but a sufficient fund was wanting to enable those
godlike raen to restqre the Republic, the richest citizens, whe

Sect. 6;] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 289
who yet wished well to their Country, could not be
prevailed upon to retrench from their private Luxury,
to support the Public in this critical exigency : which
therefoi'e, having been long shaken by the Luxury of
its eneraies, fell noAv a sacrifice to the Luxury of its'
friends. Thus the great Roman patriot describes the
fatal condition of those times ; Nos kabemus luxu-
riaM, atque avaritiam; publice egestatem, privatim
opulentiam. In a word then, it is not Luxury, but the consump
tion of the products of art and nature, which is of so
high benefit to Society. That this consumption may
well be, without Luxury, appears plainly from the
definition given above. All the difference is, and that
a very essential one, when the consumption is made
without Luxury, infinitely greater numbers, share in
it ; when it becomes Luxury, it is confined to fewer.
The reason of this, aiid the different effects this diffei*-
ent Consumption must have on the Public, is very
evident. Had the consumption of the commodities
and products of Greece when conquered (which indeed
were necessary to render the Romans pohte and
wealthy) been more equally made by that people, it
would have been extremely beneficial. But being
unjustly clairaed by one part, exclusive of the rest,
" omnia virtutis praemia arabitio possidebat,'' it became
luxury and destruction. The Historian shews us how
it was brought about : " There (says he) the Roman
" people first began to intrigue, to debauch, to affect
" a taste for statues, pictures, and high-wrought plate.
" To come at Avhich, they oppressed the private,
" plundered the public, violated the temples of the
, Vol. L U . " Gods,

fego ttlE DIVINE LEGATION
*' Gods, and polluted aind confounded every thin^
«f both sacred and profane*." Till at,length,
- - - - " Ssevior arrais
" Luxubia incubuit, victuraque ulciscitur orbem."

END OF THE FIRST BOOK.

HAVING endeavoured to shew in this and the two
following Books, tkat the Priests and Lawgivers
of former times all concurred in supporting the belief
of a future state, I am stopped in the midst of
my course, by a late noble Writer, who hath taken
advantage of this notorious truth, to represent the
labours of those Moderns, who have trode in the
same steps, as a confederacy between Divines
AND Atheists to dishonour and degrade the
God of the Universe.
" After pleading the cause of natural and revealed
" Religion, (says his Lordship) I am to plead the
" cause of God himself, against Divines and
" Atheists in confederacy "I".
" The conduct of Christian Divines has been so far
^' from defending the Providence of God, that they
*' have joined in the clamour against it. Nothing has
* Ibi primum insuevit exercitus populi Romani amare,
potare, signa, tabulas pictas, vasa caelata mirari, ea privatap
ac publice rapere, delubra s poliare, sacra profanaque omnia
polluere. f Lord Bolikgbkoke's Works, Vol. V. p.305..
12 "hindered,.

OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 291
" hindered, even those who pretend to be bis Mes-
" sengers, his Embassadors, his Plenipotentiaries,
^' firora renouncing their allegiance to hira (as they
" theraselves have the front to avoaa'), but the
" hypotiiesis of a future state. On this hypotkesis
" alone, they insist ; and therefore, if this will not
" serve their turn, God is disowned by them, as effec-
" tually as if he was so, in terms *." " Divines, if
" not Atheists, yet are abetters of Atheism f."
" That there AAcre some men who knew not God
" in all ages, may be true : but the scandalous task
" of combating his existence under the mask
" of Theism, Avas reserved for JMetaphysicians and
"Theologians J."
" -^  Divines are still more to be blamed. A
i" coNFEDEiiACY AVITH ATHEISTS becomes ill the
" professors of Theism. No matter. They persist,
" and have done their best, in concert Avith their allies,
" to DESTROY the behef of the goodness of God : — •
" They endeavour to destroa.^ that ofhis goodness,
" which is a farther article of their Alliance §."
" The confederacy between Atheists and Divines
•' appears to have been carried very far — Nay
" the Atheist will appear, to that reason, to which
*' they both appeal, more consistent in his ab^
" surdity than the Divine ||." "Divines upbraid
" God's GOODNESS, and censure his justice^."—
" Injustice is, in this hfe, ascribed to God, by
" Divines**."
• Vol. V. pp. 487, 8. t lb. p. 485- t lb- P- 307-
I lb. p. 393. It lb. pp.348, 9. H Ib. p. 417.
** Ib. p. 541.
: U 2 ^ " The

292 THE DIVINE LEGATION
" The whole Tribe of Divines, like Wollaston and
" Clarke, do, in effect, renounce the God whom
" you and I adore, as much as the rankest of the
" Atheistical Tribe. Your Priests and our Parsons
" will exclaim most pathetically, and rail outra-
" GEOUSLY at this assertion. But have a little patience,
" and I Avill prove it to their shame to be true*,"
The Reader will give me leave, in a few words, to
vindicate the body of Divines from the honid calumny
of this imaginary Confederacy.
He may be pleased then to understand, that
Atheism has ever endeavoured to support itself, on
a FACT, Avhich has indeed all the certainty that the
evidence of sense and experience can give it ; namely,
the unequal distribution of moral good and evil, here
ielow. " Cum res hominum tanta caligine volvi
" Adspicerem, leetosque diuflorere nocentes,
" Vexarique pios  labefacta cadebat
" Religio," 
was the common language of the impatient sufferer.
From hence the Atheist inferred, that the Universe
was without an intelligent Ruler ; and that all things
were driven about by that Fate or Fortune, which
first produced tbera. Divines opposed this Con
clusion ; for they did not venture to be so paradoxical
as (with his Lordship) to call in question the Premisses,
a phenomenon which objected itself to all their Senses;
They first demonstrated, strictly demonstrated, the
Being of a God, and his moral attributes : and
then shewed, that if the whole of man's existence were
* Vol V. p. 485, included

OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 293
included within this life, the present distribution of
good and evil aaouM contradict that Deraonstration.
They, therefore, inferred, on tiieir part, tiiat the whole
of man's existence Avas not included Avithin this life : but
that he was reserved for an after-reckoning ; in which,
an equal distribution qf rewards and punishments
would amply vindicate the providence of a righteou$
Governor. ^ni Atheists Avere not the only enemies whom Divines--
had to deal with. There Avas a set of men, who allowed
an intelligent first Cause, endowed with those moral
attributes, which the Divines had demonstrated,;
and, on that account, called themselves Deists.
Yet they agreed so far Avith Atkeism, as to confine the
whole of man's existence to tbe present life/ These,
the Divine combated, in their turn ; and with the same
arms; but in an inverted order. In disputing with
the Atheists, the principle held in comraon was tke
present unequal distribution of Good and Evil. So
that to cut off their conclusion from it, of no God,
he demonstt^ated the Being and Attributes : and from
that proof inferred that the inequality Avould be set
right. With Deists, the comraon principle was tke
Being and Attributes of God. Therefore, to bring
^eni to the allowaqce of a Future State, h^
appealed to the present unequal distribution of good
and evil, (which these Men, as weU as his Lordship,
were very backAvard tQ allow and very industrious not
to see ;) and fpoiii tht^t inequality inferred, that there
must be such a State,
This is a short and true account pf the Divik^e's
contest vyith Atheis'ts and Deists, so far as the
mhkct of a future state came in question: In bt/th
y 3 controversiea

294 THE DIVINE LEGATION
controversies that state is deduced from tke moral
attributes : only with this difference. In the dispute
with Atheists, the deraonstration of those attributes is
¦made; in tbe dispute with Deists, it is allowed. The
final purpose against Atheism is to proA-e the being
AND attributes of God ; the final purpose against
Deism is to prove a future state ; For neither
natural nor revealed Religion can subsist without
beUeving that God is, and that he is a reavarder
ofthem that seek him *- Thus, we see, the question,
in each controversy, being different ; the premisses,
by which each proposition was to be ^proved, must
needs be different. The difference is here explained ;
the premisses, in the argument against Atheists, Avere
the moral attiibutes ; the premisses, in the argument
against Deists, were the unequal distribution of good
and evil.
What Enemy to Religion now, could ever hope to
see a Calurany either thrive or rise on so unpromising
a ground ? or flatter himself with the expectation of
an Advocate bold enpugh to tell the World, that this
conduct ofthe Divines was a confederacy with
Atheists, to decry God's Providence ;' to blot out his
Attributes qf goodness and justice ; to combat his
Government; and to deny kis very Existence? The
Right Honourable Author does all this : And
more ;— he expects to be believed. It is true, this is
a fine believing age : Yet I hardly think he would
have carried his confidence in our credulity so far,
had he seen his way clear before him. — His Lordship
is always sublime, aud therefore otten cloudy ; com
monly, at too great a distance to look into the detail
* -St. Paul, Hebr. xi. 6. of

OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 255
pf things, or to enter into their ?ninuteness : (for which,
ip^eed, he is perpetually felicitating his Genius.) So
tha(, in his general viexv of Theologic matters, he has
jusibled these tAvo Controversies intp one ; and, in the
confusion, hath comraodiously slipped in one Fact for
ai:|pther. He, all the way, represents Divines as
making a future State the prop? qf God's moral
attributes : Whereas, Ave noAv see, on the very face
of the contrpversy, that they make the moral attributes
A PROOF of a future State. Let us consider how the
dispute stands with the Atheist. These men draw
their argument against a God, from the condition pf
the moral world ; The Divine ansAvers, by demonstrat
ing God's Being and Attiibutes : and, on that de
monstration, satisfies tlie objection. Consider how it
stands Avith the Deist, Here, God's Being and
Attributes is a common principle : And on this ground
the Divine stands, to deduce a future state irom the
unequal distribution of things. — But his misrepresen
tation Avas to support his slander of a Confederacy :
there was no room to pretend that God's Being was
made precarious by proving a future state frora his
Attributes ; but could he get it believed, that Divines
proved the Attributes from a future state, he would
easily find credit with his kind Reader, for all the rest.
Well then, the whole amount of his chimerical
confederacy comes to this. That Divines and
Atheists hold a principle in common; but, in coraraon
too with all the rest of mankind ; naraely, that there
are irregularities in the distribution of good and evil
here below. And did any thing forbid Divines to
employ this coraraon principle, in support of Religion
against Atkeism and Deism I But whatever his Lord-
u 4 ship

ig6 THE DIVINE LEGATION, &c.
ship might think proper to disguise in this reasoning,
there is one thing, the most careless Reader will never
overlopk ; which is, that, under all this pomp of words
pnd solemnity of accusation, you see lurking that poor
species of a Bigot's jpalurany, which, from one principle
held in common with an obnoxious Party, charges his
Adversary, with all the follies or impieties which have
rendered that Party odious. This miserable artifice
of imposture, had now been long hissed out of leamed
controversy, when the noble Lord took it up ; and,
with true political skill, worked it into a sham Plot j
to make Religion distrust its best Friends, and take
(refuge in the first Philosophy,

THE
DIVINE LEGATION OF MOSES
DEMONSTRATED. BOO.K IL
SECT. I.
HAVING now proved the first proposition,
That inculcating tke doctrine of a future state
of rewards and punishments is necessary to the weU-
being qf Society, by considerations drawn from the
nature qf Man, and the genius of civil Society ; and
cleared it from the objections of licentious Wits ;
I proceed to the second; which is, that all man
kind, ESPECIALLY THE MOST WISE AND LEARNED
kations of antiquity, have concurred IN
BELIEVING AND TEACHING, THAT THIS DOCTIJINE
WAS OF SUCH USE TO CIVIL SOCIETY.
This I shall endeavour to prove,
I. From the conduct of Lawgivers, and Institutors
of cIa^I policy.
JI. From the opinions of all the Learners and
Teachers of wisdom, in the schools of ancient
phitosophy,
.J. From the conduct of lawgivers, and
|N*TITUT0R6 OF CIVIL POLICY : who never omitted to

298 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book H.
to propagate and confirm Religion, wherever they
established Laws; religion, I say, which was
always first in their view, and last in their execution.
They used it as the instrument to collect a body
politic ; and they applied it as the bond to tie and
keep that body together : they taught it in civilizing
man; and estabUshed it to prevent his return to
barbarity and a savage life. In a word, so inseparable,
in the ancient World, .were the ideas of lawgiving
and religion, that Plutarch (in his paradoxical pre
ference of atheism to superstition) supposes no other
Origin of divine worship than what was the work of
the LaAvgiver. " Hoav much happier had it been
" (says he) for the Carthaginians, had their first
" Lawgiver been like Critias of Diagoras, who believed
" neitiier Gods nor Demons, rather than such a. on^
" as enjoined the public sacrifices to Saturn*!"
That the Magistrate, as such, h^tfi taken the
greatest c^,re and pains to inculcate and support ReU
gion, we shall prove at large : That this care and p^ins
must arise, and vvas employed, on account of its con
fessed and experienced utility tp the Stq^te, Avill n^ei^
no proof
But here it will be necessary to remind the readi^
of this previous truth, Tkat there never xjdus, in any
age ofthe xporld,from the most early accounts qf t'lme,
to this present hour, any civil-policie4 nation or people,
fvko kad a ReUgion, of which the chief foundg.^ion
and support was not the doctrine of a futuri; statu
Swi* ula Tf Xfsw i9w«i'; — ^Iisji ^((ctJ. P. 171. tom. II. foi, 1599-
Fraacof. of

Sect, l.j OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 299
of rexvards and pumskments ; the jeavish people
onh) excepted. This, I presurae, our adversaries Avill
not deny. Mr. Bayle, the indulgent foster-father of
Infidelity, confesseth it in tiie fullest raanner, and with
the utraost ingenuity: " Toutes les religions du
" monde, tant la vraie que les fausses, roulent sur
" ce grand pivot, qu'il y a un juge invisible qui punit
" & qui recompense, apres cette vie, les actions de
" riiomrae tant exterieures qu'interieures. C'est de
" la que Ton supose que decoule la principale utility
" de la religion ;" and thinks, it was the utility of this
doctrine which set the Magistrate upon inventing a
Religion for the State : " C'est le principal raotif qui
" eut anim^ ceux qui I'auroient invent^e*."
This truth, Ave beg the reader always to have in
mind : So that when, in the sequel of this discourse,
he meets uith ancient testiraonies for the necessity of
religion to Society, he raay be sure, that the doc
trine of a future state of rewards and punish
ments, was the chief idea included in that terra. And
on this account it is, that frequently, where the Ancients
speak of the source of those utilities, which can pro
ceed only from the doctrine of a future state, they
give it the common name of Religimi: as, on the
other hand, they often call Religion by the restrictive
name of a future state : On which account, I have not
scrupled, throughout this discourse, to use the same
hberty of applying the generic or specific term, one
for the other, without any apprehension of being
thought not to understand my argument, or of being
misunderstood by my reader : Who, when he sees me
• Diet, Crit. & Hist. Art. S?xnoza. Rem. (E.) bring

300 The divine legation [Book IL
bring facts and opinions of Antiquity, which shew the
utility of religion in general, to prove the utility of the
doctrine of a future state in particular, will understand
that I speak home to my purpose, and to the full proof
of my second proposition.
So that, had I done no more than produce such
facts and opinions, I h-ad. done all that was necessary.
But since the bare necessary is esteemed almost as
poor and unhandsome a thing in literature as in civil
life, I have employed the greatest part of the present
and following books to shew, from ancient facts and
opinions, the more than ordinary care and concem of
all the wise and learned for perpetuating the specific
doctrine of a future state of rewards and punishments.
Having premised thus much to prevent mistakes,
I proceed, in the first place,
1. To shew, in general, the civil Magistrate's care
in this matter.
The popular doctrine of a Providence, and, conse*
quently, of a future state of rewards and punish
ments, was, as we have said, so universally received
in the ancient world, that Ave cannot find any civilized
country where it was not of national belief., The most
' ancient Greek poets,, as MuseEus*, Orpheus^, Homer,
Hesiod, (Sj-c. who have given systems of tiieplogy and
religion, on the popular creed of such nations, always
reckon the doctrine of a future state of rewards and
punishments as a fundamental article : And ah suc
ceeding writers have given testimony to the same con-
certed plan. JEsckylus, Sopkocles, Euripides, Aristo;;
• Plato Rep. lib. xi. p. 364. E. T. II. Edit. Steph, 1578. fol.
+ Plutarch, Vita Lucul, phanes,

Sect.1.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 301
phanes whose profession it Avas to represent the man
ners and opinions of all civilized people, whether Greeks
or those whom the Greeks called Bai^ar'ians, are full
and express to the same puipose. Further, it is re
corded in the Avorks of every ancient historian and
philosopher, which it would be endless to recite. But
Plutarch, the most knowing of them all, shall speak
tor the rest: " Exaraine*," says he, in his tract against
Colotes the Epicurean, " the face of the globe, and
" you may find Cities unfortified, unlettered, Avithout a
" regular Magistrate, or appropriated habitations ; -
" without possessions, property, or the use of money,
" and unskilled in all the magnificent and polite
" arts of life : But a City without the knoAvledge of
" a God, or the practice of Religion : without the use
" of vows, oaths, oracles, and sacrifices to procure
" good, or of deprecatory rites to avert evil, no man
*' can or ever will find," And in his consolation to
Apollonius, he declares it -f was so ancient an opi
nion, that good men should be recompensed after
death, tkat ke could not reack eitker to tke autkor or
original of it. To the sarae purpose had Cicero and
Seneca declared themselves before him. The first in
Aevtv;, aoixcif, a;^^>)(«<»Ta?, vo(«»o-^*T©- /mi fto/ihai, avii^uf ScaTjuf, i^
yviuaaiuii itis^ it vroXtUf <^ u6ia, f,i,n p^fufiityii tvy(tt,7f, //iTiSt c^xo*;,
«n» WJ ?ra» ytyo'"? S«*l«. Edit. Francf. fol. T. II. p. 1125. E.
f — Kai Tawfi' Sruf ufyou"' ^ <'scO\tna, hxltXu tstojAia-i^ita •metf ifiTt
in Te wa^ii'/rett m Jei; alht iii ri x?"" '"'''' ^fX*" ^'''' '''°'' ^^^^ 'Sr^S'Toi^
Edit. Stepb. 8*, 1572. T. I. p. aoi,
these

302 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book II.
these words ; " * As our innate ideas discover to us
*' that there are Gods, whose attributes we deduce
" from reason ; so, from the consent of all nations
" and people, we conclude that the soul is immortal."
The other thus : " When -f we weigh the question
" of the iraraortality of the soul, the consent of aU
" mankind, in their fears and hopes qf a future state,
" is of no small raoraent Avith us."
In a word, Sertus Empiricus, when he would dis
credit the argument for the being of a God, brought
from universal consent, observeis that it would prove
too much ; because it would prove the truth of the
poetic fables of hell, in which there was as general a
concurrence:};. But of all nations, the Egyptian was most cele
brated for its care in cultivating Religion in general,
and the doctrine of a future state in particular : inso
much that one of the most ancient Greek historians
affirms, Tkey were the first who built altars and erected
statues and temples to the Gods^. — The firs* wko
taught that the soul qf man was immortal. And
* — Ut Deos esse naturi opinamur, qualesque sint ratione
cogniscimus ; sic permanere animos arbitramur consensu nationutn
omnium. Tuscul. Disp. 1. i. c. 16. in initio. Edit. Oxon. 4°.
T.II. p.245.
f Cum de animarum aeternitate disserimus, non leve momen
tum ^pud nos habet consensus hominum, aut tiraehtium inferos,
aut colentium. Ep. 117.
^ Adv. Physicos, 1. viii. c. 2. Comment.
Her. Euterpe, e. 4. — Tl^Sroi &l jg riih ray A«yo» Aiyvvhti tint w
iliiivrii ii akSgBWW iJ^'X'' ¦«9«i'»Ios eri« Id. ib. C. 1 23. I
Lucian

Sect. 1.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 303
^Lucian tells us*, Tkat they were said to be the first
who had the knowledge of the Gods. Which only
amounts to this, that tbey Avere the first and wisest
dvil-policied people : as will appear presently.
But, at present, to prove the Magistrate's care
from hence.  For this account of the antiquity and
universality of Religion is not given to evince its
truth; iot AAhich purpose other writers have often
and successfully employed it; but to manifest its
tsE ; which Avill be best done by inquiring what share
the Magistrate had in it.
. I. Now though no civilized nation Avas ever without
a Rehgion in general, and this doctrine in particular;
and though it was of general belief even before civil
policy was instituted amongst mankind ; yet were there
formerly, as now there are, many savage nations, that
when first discovered, appeared to have long lost ali
traces of Religion : A fact which implies some e-tr
.'traordinary care in the Magistrate for its support
and preservation. For if Religion hath been sup
ported in all places, at all times, and under all circum
stances, where there was a magistrate and civil policy;
and scarce in any place, or under any circumstarice,
where these were wanting; Avhat other cause than
the Magistrate's care and contrivance can be assigned
for its support?
If it should be said, which, I think, is the only plau
sible thing can be said, that the reason why the Citizen
had religion, and the Savage none, might be, tha^
, • Heurot fth aiBfu'tTUii Alyiirlni hiyatreu Sian n imemn ^L^CiiV. De
Dea. Syria, § 2. Edit. Reitzii. amongst

304 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Boofc It
amongst the advantages of civil life, the improvement
and cultivation of the mind is one ; and this neces
sarily brings in the knpwledge of God and relifjious ob
servance : It is sufficient to reply, that all the national
Religions of the ancient and modern Gentile world
are so gross and irrational, that they could not be the
product of reflection or improved reason, but were
plainly of the Magistrate's fitting up, adapted to the
capacity of minds yet rude and uncultivated, which
could bear nothing of a finer texture than what was
made out of the stuff he found, the genius of tiw
Nation and the nature of the Government.
To give the proof of what we have been saying;
Tlic Mexicans and Peruvians in the South, and the
people of Canada in North America, were on a level
with regard to speculative knowledge. Or, if there
were any natural advantage, the Canadians had it.
These, when discovered, seemed to have no rudiments^
of Religion : The Mexicans and Peruvians had one
formed, digested, and established : but such a religion
as discovered sometiiing worse than mere ignorance,
but never could bc the result of improved thinking;
However, a religion it was which taught the great
articles of the worship of a God, a providence, and a
future state. Now how happened it, that these two
great empires had a Religion, and the Canadians none,
but that the Lawgivers of the former saw it neces
sary to countenance, add to, and perpetuate what they
found*, for the benefit of the state? which advantage
the Canadians wanting, they lost, in course of time,
tbe very footsteps of Religion. If this will not be
allowed, it will be difficult to assign a reason.
* See Buuk III. Sect. 6. II. i. and pag. antepenult. Leti

Sect. 1.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 305
Let us suppose, according to the objection, that
Gentile Religion owes its birth to the improved and
cultivated mind. Now, if we make collections from
the natiire of tilings, it will be found more likely
that these nortiiern Savages should longer preserve the
notions of God, and tiie practices of Religion, than
the southern Citizens, uninfluenced by their Magis
trates. The way of getting to the knowledge of a God,
best suited to the common capacity of man, is that
very easy one, the contemplation of the works of
nature: For tiiis employment the Savage would have
fitter opportunities given him by his vacant and seden
tary life ; and by his constant vievv of nature, which
all his labours, and all his aiiiusements, perpetually
presented to hira naked and unsophisticated. The
Comte de BoulainvilUers, a writer by no raeans pre
judiced in favour of religion, gives this reason why
the Arabians preserved so long, and with so-j:nuch
purity, their notions of the Divinity *.
On the other hand. Nature, by which vA^e come to
the knowledge of a first Cause, Avould be quite hid
from the southern Citizen, busied in the w^orks of
barbarous arts, and inhuman practices ; or taken up
with the slaArish attendance on the will, and a more
slavish imitation of the manners of a cruel and capri-
'dous Tyrant.
Nor, if we may credit the relations of travellers,
do the northern people any more neglect to exercise
''' * La Vie de Mohammed, p. 147. Ed. Ainst. 1731. Je reviens
volontiers k la losange de la solitude des Arabes. Elle a conserve
chez eux plus longtems, .& avec moius de melange, le sentiment
nature) de la veritable divinite, SfC.
Vol. L X their

3o6 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book IL
thear reason titian the southern : It is constant, they
are observed to have sounder intellects than those
nearer the sun : which, being owing to the influeiice
of dimes, is found to hold all the worid over. Not-
-wdtLstanding this, tiie issue proved just the contrary;
and, as we said, the Peruvians and Mexicans had a
Helicon, tiie Canadians none at all.
Who then can doubt but that this was owing to the
care and contrivance of the Magistrate ? But indeed
(which makes this instance the more pertinent) the
fact confirms the reasoning. The Founders of these
two monarchies pretended to be the messengers and
offspring of the Gods; and, in the manner of the
Grecian, and other Legislators (of whom more here
after) pretended to inspiration, established Religion,
and constituted a form of worship.
II. But not only the ex'istence, but the genius too of
pagan Religion, shews the Magistrate's hand in it«
support. First, From the origin oi their Gods.
Secondly, Frora the attributes given to them; and
Thij'dly, From the mode qf public worship.
First, The idolatry of the Gentile States was chiefly
the worship of dead men ; and these. Kings, Law
givers, and Founders of civil policy. The benefit
accruing to the State both from the consecration and
the worship of such Gods, shews it to be a contrivajjce
of tbe Lawgiver. For, i . Nothing could be a greater
excitement to good government, than fo shew the
Magistrate that the public benefits, which he should
Invent, improve, or preserve, would be rewarded
3 with

Sect. 1.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 307
with an iraraortality of fame and glory. Cicero gives
this as the original of the civil apotheosis : "It may
" be easily understood, that the reason, why most
" Cities prosecuted the niv mory of their valiant raen
" with divine honours, was to spur up Lhcir Citizens
" to virtue, that every the most deserving of thera
" might encounter dangers a\ ith the greater cheerfiil-
" ness, in the service of his country. And for this
'" very cause it was that, at Athens, Erectheus and
" his daughters VA-ere received into the number of the
" Gods*." 2. Nothing could raake the people so
observant of their Laws, as a belief that the makers,
framers, and administrators of them, were become
Gods; and did dispense a peculiar providence for
their protection and support.
The records of antiquity support this reasoning.
The Egyptians AA-ere the first people who perfected
Civil-policy, and established Religion : And they were
the first, too, Avho deified their kings, lawgivers, and
public benefactors f ; as we may collect frora the
passage of Herodotus, quoted above, which says, they
were the first who built altars, and erected statues
and temples to the Gods: For the erecting statues
was, by this historian, esteeraed a certain mark that the
* Atque in plerisque civitatibus intelligi potest, augendae virtutis
gratia, quo libentiiis reipublicffi causa periculum adiret optiraus
quisque, virorum fortium memoriam honore deorum irnmortalium
consecratam. Ob earn enim ipsam causam Erectheus Athenis
filiaeque ejus in numero deorum sunt. Nat. Deor. 1. iii. c. ig. Edit.
Ox. 4to. T. II. p. 503.
t ''A/^>ia; ^ Ik rarav iwiysis? yisic^at Cpariv, vicaf^anaq fAt Smraj,
it l»ts; xj ^nmhiTi yiyonton xcil^ lot A'lyvKlou. Diod. Sic. 1. I. p. 8.
Stepb. Ed. X 2 AAorshippers

3o8 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book IL
worsluppers believed the Gods had human natures;
as appears firom the reason he gives why the Persians
had no statues oi their Gods, namely, because they did
not beUeve as the Greeks, tkat tke Gods had fiumau
natures*, that is, they did not believe the Gods were
dea,d men deified : This, as we say, Avas a practice,
invented by the Egyptians; who, m process of time,
taught tlie rest of the world their mystery f. So AA'hen
arts and civil policy Avere brought into Greece by
Cadmus and Ceres (the first, though a Phenician by
birth, being an inhabitant of Thebes in Egypt ; and
the other, though coming immediately from Sicily,
was yet a natural Egyptian) tiien, and not till then,
began the custom of deifying dead men ; which soon
overran all Greece and the rest of Europe J.
* 'Oi uir <fi.» iixitti, on ix tirtlfineii^aiai hinnran ras Sea;, Hxiivi^
u'S,Xkntci £>'««• Clio. L. 131. And see note [A] at the end
of this Volume.
•f Tffoiiaf6f3e'iu & itaftaio* 7^; rity atifii; ira(piiicta,», kJ t^* Ttfr
lurat IUP&' iiaHiuirif, ert oi <ma7iaiirtSoi rat fia^a^an, i^aifirai it '
(tt'miui ft 3^ AITTIITIOI, enzf' w «^ oi ^uo-w ^a^ihaimi mi^uivot, Ssu;
hifutfi' ftxyisvi T«5 -ri «r|«{ rkv Qtuiuini XJf"'"' eAj**!"?) « Kj nari, t< e*
vtittaat^oi ra, ifiwj. li^ircn n Tara? xj ¦woWitJy airitif aya&ui, iyaiiini,
ii ^iiK trfKTtxittn. Pfailo Bibl. apud Euseb. Praep. Evang. 1. ii. c. 9.
J Sir Isaac Newton, who, probably, had not this matter in
his thoughts, hath yet a remarkable passage to this purpose
in his Chronology qf tke Greeks: " Idolatry (says he) began
" m Ckaldma and Eg^p/.— The countries upon the Tigris and the
" '^ile being exceeding fertile, were first frequented by mankind,
" And grew first iato kingdoms; and therefore began first to
" adore their dead kings and queens; — Every city set up the
" worship of its own founder and kings, and by alliances and con-
" qeiests they spread this worship, and at length the Phankians
" aad Egyptians brought into Europe the practice of deifying the
« dtad," Pag. 161.
3. Th

Sect. 1.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 309
2. The attributes and qualities assigned to their
Crods, always corresponded with tlie nature and genius
of the government. If this was gentle, benign, com
passionate, and forgiving ; goodness and mercy were
most essential to tiie Deity : But if severe, inexorable,
captious, or unequal; the very Gods \A*ere Tyrants;
and expiations, atonements, lustrations, and bloody
sacrifices,- composed the system of religious i^'orship.
In the words of the great Poet,
Gods partial, changeful, passionate, unjust.
Whose attributes Avere rage, revenge, or lust;
Such as the souls of coAvards might conceiAfe,
And, fonn'd like tyrants, tyrants would believe *.
But, 3. The mode qf public worship was alone
sufiicient to betray the Mover of the Avhole machiise.
The object of what we call ReUgion, being God, con
sidered as the creator and preserver of a species
of rational beings, the subject of it must needs be
each indi\'idual of that species. This is that idea of
Keli^on, which our common reason approves. But
now, in ancient paganism. Religion yvas a v^ery differ
ent thing : It had for its subject, not only the natmnsi
man, that is, each Individual ; but likewise the arti
ficial man. Society ; by and for whom, all the puhHc
rites and ceremonies of it were instituted and per
formed. And while that part of pagan Religion, whose
subject Avere individuals, bore an inferior part, and was
confessed to be under an unequal Providence, the
eensideration of which brought in the doctrine of a
future state for the support of God's goverameat;
the other, whose subject was the artificial man. Society,
• Essay ob Mam.
X 3 tau^t'

310 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book H;
taught a raore equal Providence, adininistred to the
State. The consequence of which was, that Religion
and Government ran into one another ; and prodigies
and portents were as farailiar as civil edicts ; and as
constantly bore their share in the public administrar,
tion : For the Oracles, without which nothing was
projected or executed, ahvays denounced them as
rational directions, declarative of divine favour, or
displeasure ; in which particulars, as such, were not
at all concerned : So that to accept Or to avert the
omen ; to gratulate the raercy, or deprecate the judg
ment ; the constant method was the revival of old rites,
or the institution of new. A reformation of manners,
or enforcement of suraptuary laws, never raade part
of the State's atonement to the Gods.
The oddness and notoriety of this fact so fi)rci-
bly struck Mr. Bayle's imagination, that, mistaking
this for the whole of Paganisra, he too hastily con
cluded, that the worship of false Gods in the ancient
world, did not at all influence morals * : And from
thence forraed an argument to support his favourite
question in behalf of Atheisra. This was a strange
conclusion : For though it be indeed true, that the
public part of pagan Religion had no influence on
morals, it is utterly false that the private part had
not: For in the doctrine of a future state, Avhich
was the foundation of, and inseparable from, this
sounder part of pagan Religion whose subject was the
individual, the merit and demerit, to M'hich rewards
and punishments were annexed, Avas virtue and vice
* Pensees diverses sur un comete, &c. And Reponse aux
Questions d'un Provincial. And Continuation des Pensees di
verses, &;c. only.

Secti.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED, sn
only. This will be proved at large in the fourth section
of tbe present book : Though I am ready to allow,
that the nature and adrainistration of tlie public
part of pagan Religion did lead individuals into many
wrong conclusions concerning the eflScacy of extenor
acts of worship.
But what seems to have occasioned Mr. Bayies
mistake (besides his foUoAving the Fathers, who in
their declamations against paganism have said a great
deal to the same purpose*) was his not reflecting
that ancient History only presents us with one part of
the influence of Paganism, that Avhrch it had on the
Public as a body : The other, the influence it had on
individuals, it passes over in silence, as not its
province. Whoever now considers the genius of Pagam'sm in
this view, (and unless he considere it in this view he
* Yet St. Austin himself cannot but own tliat the B'Iysteeies
however (of whieh the Reader will hear a great deal in the 4tlii
Section of this Book) were principally instituted fer the promoting
of virtue and a good life, even where he is accusing Pagamism ira
general for its neglect of moral viitue i
" Nee nobis neseio quos susurros paucissimoruiQ auiibva anhe-
" latos & arcaua velut religione traditos jactent, quibus vitse
" probitas castitasque discatur.* — Civ.^ Dei, L, ii. c. 6.
" lidem ipsi DEemones— perhibentur in adytis suia, secretisqne
" penetralibus dare quasdam bona prtecepta de raoribus qiiibusdam
" velut electis sacratis suis — Proinde malignitas dajm-amim nisi
" alicubi se, quemadmodum scriptum in nostris littei'is novimos,
" transfiguret in angelos lue is, non iraplet negotium deceptionis.
" Foris itaque populis celeberrimo sirepita impietas impsra eir-
" eumsonat, & intus pauciacastitas simulata v\x sonat i prasben-
" tur propatula pudendis, & secreta laudandis ; decus latet, &
" dedecus patet,"&c. e. %6. X 4 Aisili

312 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book IL
will neyer be able to judge truly of it*) can hardly
doubt but that the civil magistrate had a great hand in
modelling Religion. What it was which enabled him
to give this extraordinary cast to Paganism, is not
diflicult to discover: It could be nothing but that
popular disposition arising from, and the necessary
consequence of, those general notions, which, by hisf
contrivance and encourageraent, had overspread the
heathen world, i. That there were local tutelary Dei'
ties, who had taken upon theraselves, or Avere intrusted
with, the care and protection of particular Nations
and People; (of which, more hereafter.) 2. That
those great benefactors of mankind, Who had reduced
the scattered tribes and clans into civil Society, were
hecome Gods. 3. and lastly, That their systems of
Laws and civil Institutes were planned and digested by
the direction of the legislator's patron-Deity f .
On
• What is here said of the genius of Paganism ¦well accounts
for a circumstance in ancient history, which very much embafr
rasses the modern critics. They cannot conceive how it happened,
that the best ancient historians, who understood so well what
belonged to the nature of a Coniposition, and how to give every
sort of worE; its due form, and were besides free from all vulgar
superstition, should abound so much in descriptions of religious
rites and cerempnies; and in relations of omens, prodigies, and por
tents. Many an idle hypothesiS*hath been framed to give a solur
tion of this difficulty; and many a tedious work compiled to justify
these ancient historians, upon mere modern ideas. But now a
plain and easy answer may be given to it. This part of pagan
¦Religion was so iiiterwoyen with the transactions of State, that
it became essential to civil history. And how much soever it
may be supposed to have deformed ancient story, yet the Critic
and Philosopher gain by what disgusts the delicacy of the Po,lJti-
cian ; the Greek and Roman history being the repository of all that
eoncerns the public part of pagan religioni
t See tht beginning of the next section.

Secti.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 315
On the .whole then. The foregoing considerations
of tiie preservation of Religion in general ; the origins
ofthe pagan Gods; then- attributes; and the mode qf
public worship; — Avill, I am persuaded, incline the
reader to think that, for the universality of reUgious
belief, the world was chiefly indebted to the civil Magis
trate; how much soever the illegitimate or unnatural
constitution of particular States, or the defective views
of particular 'Lawgivers, contributed to deprave the
true Religion of nature ; or, if you will, the patri
archal. The learned St. Austin, who excelled in the
knewledge of antiquity, seeras to have been deterrained
by this way of thinking, when he gives it, as the result
of his enquiries ; that the civil Magistrate had a large
share in pagan superstition. His words are these*,
" —Which indeed seems to have been done on no other
" account, but as it was the business of princes, out
" of their wisdom and civil prudence, to deceive the
¦' people in their Religion — princes, under the name
" of religion, persuaded the people to believe those
" things true, which they themselves knew to be idle
" fables. By this means, for their own ease ip go-
" vernment, tying them the more closely to civil
" Society." But if now it should be objected, that it was natural
for the people, left to themselves, to run into those
superstitions, we may readily grant it without prejudice
? —Quod utique non aliam ob causam factum videtur, nisi quia
hominum principum velut prudentium & sapientium negotium fuit
Dopuhim in religionibus fallere— Homines principes ea, qua: vana
esse noverint, religionis nomine populis tanquam vera suadebant :
Hoc modo eos civili societati velut arctius alligantes, quo sub-
ditos ppssiderenL De Civil. Dei,.l. iv. c. 32. to

314 THE DIVINE LEGATION [B006 IL
to the argument r For they are always such notions
as are apt to be entertained and cherished by vulgar
minds, whose current the wise Magistrate is accustomed
to turn to his advantage. For to think him capable
of new modelling the human mind,' by making men
religious whom he did not find so, is, as will be
shewn hereafter, a senseless whimsy, entertained by
the Atheist to account for the origin of Religion.
And,, when it is seen that all these various modes
of superstition concurred to promote the Magistrate's
purpose, it can hardly be doubted but he gave then*
tbatgeneral direction. The particular Tpaxts of Gentile
Rehgion, which further strengthen and confirm this
reasoning, are not here to be insisted on. Their
original will be cleariy seen, when we come to shew
the several methods Avhich the Magistrate eraployed '
for this great purpose. What these methods were,
the course (rf the arguraent now leads us to consider.

SECT. IL
IT hath been shewn in general, from the effect,
that Lawgivers and founders of civil policy did indeea
support and propagate Religion. We shall noAv endea
vour to explain the causes of that effect, in a parti
cular enumeration of the arts they employed to that
purpose. I. The FIRST step the Legislator took, was to pre
tend a Mission and revelation from some God, by
whose comraand and direction he had framed the
Policy he would establish, - Thus Jmasis and Mneves,^
lawgivers

Sect. 2.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 315
lawgivers of the Egyptians (frora Avhence this custom
spread over Greece and A.<ia) pretended to receive
their laws frora Mercury ; Zoroaster the lawgiver of
the Bactrians, and Zaniolxis lawgiver of the Getes
from Vesta; Zathraustes the lau-giver of the Jrimaspi,
fi-om a good spirit or genius ; and all .these most in
dustriously and professedly propagated the doctrine
of a future state of rewards and punishments. Rhada-
manthus and Minos lawgivers of Crete, and Lycaon of
Arcadia, pretended to an intercourse Avith Jupiter.;
Triptolemus lawgiver of the Athenians, affected to be
inspired by Ceres; Pythagoras and Zaieucus, who
made laAvs for the Crotoniates and Locrians, ascribed
their institutions to Minerva : Lycurgus of Sparta,
professed to act by the dii-ection of Apollo ; and
Romulus and Numa of Rome put themselves under
tbe guidance of Consus, and the Goddess Egeria*;.
In a word, there is hardly an old Lawgiver on record,
but what thus pretended to revelation, and the divine
assistance. But had we the lost books of Legislators
written by Hermippus, Theophrastus, and Apollodorusf,
we should have had a rauch fulhir list of these in
spired statesmen, and doubtless, many further lights
on the subject. The same method was practised by
the founders of the great outlying empires, as Sir
William Temple calls thera. Thus the first of the
Chinese monarchs was called Fag four or Fanfur,
the son of Heaven, as we are told by the Jesuits, from
his pretensions to that relation. The royal commcn-
* Diod. Sic. 1. i. & v."Ephorus apud Strabonem, 1.x. — teste
veteri scriptore apud Suidam in [Avuoiut] —Arist. apud SchoL
Find. ad. Olymp. x.
t Athen. 1. xiv. D. Laertius. taries

3t6 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book IE
tcmes qf Peru inform us,, that the founders of that
empire were Mango Copac, and his wife and sister
Coya Mama, Avho proclaimed themselves the son and
daughter of the Sun, sent from their father to reduce
BKinkind frrnn their savage and bestial life, to one <rf
twder and society. Tu'isco, the founder of the German
nations, pretended to be sent upon the same message^
as appears from his name, which signifies the inter
preter*, that is, of the Gods. Thor and Odin, the
lawgivers of the JVestern Gotks, laid claim likewise to
inspkation and even to divinityf. The Revelations of
Mahomet- are too Avell known to be insisted on. But
the race of these inspired Lawgivers seems to have
ended in Gengkizcan, the -founder erf the Mogul
empire^- Such was the universal custom (rf the ancient world,
to make Gods and Prophets of their first kings and
lawgivers. Hence it is, that Plato makes legislation
lo have come from God, and not from man§: and
* Vide SheringhaiB, De- Anglonrai gentis origine, p. 86.
f Olim quidam magic* artis imbati^Thorvidelicel & OthiiHis,— '
©btentis sirnplicium animis, divinitatis &ibi fastigium arrogare
eceperunt. — Adeo namque fallaciae eorum eflfectus percrebuit, nt in
ipsis eseteri quandam numinum potentiam venerantes, eosque deos,
yei dedrum complices autumantes veneficiorum anctoribBs solennta
yota dependeient, & errori saerilego respectnm sacris debitum ex-
hiberent. Saxo-Gram. 1. vi. Histor. p. 93. Francof. 1576. fol.
t Its ont attribue des revelations h. Gengkizccm-y & pour porter la
veneration des peuples aussi loin qn' elle pouvoit aller, ils lui ont
donnS de la divinite. Ceux qui s'interessoient a son elevation
eurent m^me I'insolence de le faire passer poor fil» de Dieu. Sa
mere plus modeste, dit seulement qu'il etoit fils bu satEiL. M.
Petit de la Croi.x, le pere, Histoire qlu Genghizcan, c. 1.
§ ©£o; ri TK codfu'^Uf vnTv, Z ^int, iT^„(j)t tJk airiea riit rut tipon
>iafi£<rEwc; KA. 01^, a ^itt, Seoj, wj ye to hxaiiriilut nvA. De Leg.
1. i. lin. I. tiiat

Sect. 2-3 OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 317
that the constant epithets to kings, in Homer, ane
AIOrENEIS born of the Gods, and AIOTPE$EI2 bred
or tutored by the Gods*.
From this general p-etcnce to revelation we maf
collect the sentiments of the ancient laAvgivers ma-
cerning the use of Religion to Society. For w« must
alwstys have in mind what Diodorus Siculus so truly
observes. That they did tkis, not only to beget a vene
ration to their laws, hut likewise t^ establish theopinioM
qfthe superintendency of tke Gods over human affairs f.,
One raay venture to go farther, and say, that to establish
this superintendency was their principal and direct aina
in all their jwetensions to inspiration.
The reader may observe, that Diodorus does not m
much as suspect them of having a third end, distind;
fi'om these two ; that is to say, the advancement of
• flujMS ^ ftE}w; Ir* SiwT^E^/^ ^ao-iA?©-. 11. B'. ver. iq6,. whi(&
title of har^^i®' is not given, says Eustathius on the place, to
¦signify that such a one is descended from Jupiter, but that be re
ceives his honour and authority from him. 'Efifi/.rtieiii itari
AIOTENEir xj AlOTPEOEIS ra; ^acriXtr? >,iytt, ix on h Ato? ri
•ya^-thism, a>J^ Sn EH EK.EINOY AYTOIX H TIMH.
t fAera, ya^ T?i* <nt^ouap tS xar A'yv7fl<if ^'m notla-raau, rit jivBsho-
ynjtinit ytlofhcu ari re rut BeoD x^ rSy rifiui, tae'ia-at fma-t mgorrw
Jiy^ivltit >oftoi5 jggijtroKrflwt ra wxifi>) ^t'tit ro Mku»)», «»?§« kJ r^
^XV f-^V' <<; ra Pta KouiroHov run iui'/iji.iiysvtijx,huii, €iT^oawoiri6>iiiM ii
tunu rn 'E^j/.m hiaxitM raraq, ui y.iya.7\ut ayct^at a'lrlds imfttyet
ix»6uwep OTOp' ''E^^))0¦l Jsa-otScrai pawfij' iv j!a£* rtj Kpirji MUua, sraja ii
AawJa»fto*io»{ AtwSg/o*' T»» fiE» n"«ga Aio{, rh h tra^ A'!to70\u»®f
ififfxna rims s't7ai(pii/at' >^ ¦Erag* Its^oi? Ji sAswcro jfoiOT srajafiJoTou
mre TO y/y®- T?j ijrmiai israf^osi, »jj 'oroMMH ayec^ut eurn>.u yuiu^
irus osirBcTiru-—
— tiTi x) «rjo5 TW ilft^0X^> *j ivv»IJ,ir rat li^eTt h.tya^),a», T&j >o^Bj
|eB¦oC^i4•»»1a TM o;]iAw,' ftaWio* »a:»»(B«ir6<»( iia}^a<iiSlai, - L. i. p. 53.
Edit, Steph, Iheir

31 8 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book II.
their OAvn private interest. And this with great judg
ment. He knew well the difference betAveen a laav-
GivEii and a tyrant ; though the World sopn after
seems to have lost the meraory of that distinction*.
Such views becarae not the former ; they destroyed his
character, and changed him into his direct opposite ;
who applied every thing to his own interest ; and this
araongst the rest. Aristotle, in his maxiras for setting
up, and supporting a tyranny, lays this doAvn for one,
to seem extremely attached to the worship of the Gods,
for tkat men kave no apprehension qf itjustice from
such as they take to be religious and to kave a kigh
sense of providence. Nor will the people be apt to
run into plots and conspiracies against those, whom
they believe the Gods xvill, in their turn, fight for,
mid support \. And here it is worth noting, that,
anciently. Tyrants, as well as LaAvgivers, gave all
encourageraent to Religion; and endeavoured to esta
blish their iiTegular Wills, not by convincing men
that there was no just nor unjust in actions; but by
persuading thera that the privilege of divine right ex
empted the Tyrant from all moral obligation. Hence
• Quintilian L. VIII. C. 6. (pag. 415. Edit. Oxon. 1693, 4to)
de Tropis, says that Pastor Populi, though used by Homer, is so
joETiCAL that he would not venture to use it in an oration :' and
ranks it with Virgil's — Volucres pennis remigare. What could
occasion so strange a piece of Critisism, but that when Quin
tilian wrote under the Tyrants of Rome, the People had lost
the very idea of the Kingly Office ?
¦J- ''Eti i\ ra, m^oq ts{ Seaf ipai»£ff-9ai «e< cr'resia.ljit\a iiatps^itluf, vtriot
TS yaj (poQSvrat, to 'BtccBcTv n iBsa^a.vtijj.ov vTio rm ToiBrai', ia.) Jtio-i-
Saiiiova tofti^ao-ii/ tiwi rov a^x'"'^'^ >ii <P^''t\'tte\,ii rat SewvKj l^riCsXtiiBiriK
.5t%», «{ . o-u/K.^ajd'** '%'"'''' 'i '^s? ¦^'«?' Polit. 1. V. c. 11. T. III.
p. 547. D. E. Edit. Paris. lol. 1639.
may

Sect 2.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 319
may be seen the absurdity of Hobbes's scheme ,of
Politics, Avho, for the sake of the Magistrate, Avas for
eradicating Religion. But the ancients knew better;
and so too did some of the moderns *.
The question then is, wliether these pretensions of
the ancient Lawgivers Avere feigned in tke first inten
tion, for tiie sake of Society or of Religion ? For it is
no question, but that what Ave here shew was contrived
by the Magistrate for the service of Religion, was done
ultimately for the sake of Civil Governraent. Or ia
other words, the question, I say, is. Whether tiiis pre
tence to inspiration was made to establish a civil or a
religious Society.? If a civil; the ends airaed at must
be the reception qf kis policy, or provision for its per
petuity. I speak not here of that third end, tke secur
ing a veneration, for tkem, to posterity ; and for a
good reason, because tkis is the very thmg I contend
for; such veneration being only to be procured by
the influence of Reli^on ; the peculiar raode of which,
the pretended inspiration introduces. The ends then
in question, are reception for tke policy; or provision
for the perpetual duration oi it
1. For the reception, there Avould be small need
of this expedient. 1. Civil laAvs are seen by all to
be so necessary for the well-being of every individual,
that one can hardly cpnceive any need of the belief
of divine command or extraordinary assistance to
bring men tp embrace a scherae for associating, or
• Et non h eosa piu necessaria k parere d'havere che quesU
.ultima qualita [religione] perche gli huomini in universale giudicano
piu a gli occhi che alle mani, percke tocca k vedere a ciascuno a
sentire h pochi. Macbiavel del Principe, c. 18. to

320 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book IL
to manifest the right they have of so doing. For (as
the great Geograpker says) Man was born witk tkis
inclination to associate. It is an appetite common both
to Greeks and Barbarians ; far, being by nature a civil
animal, ke lives readily under one common policy or
law *. Besides several of these Legislators gave laws
to a willing people, on the strength of their personal
character of virtue' and wisdom; and were called
upon to that office, in which nothing was wanting to
beget the necessary veneration to him who discharged
it. And though it might possibly have happened to a
people to be so far sunk into brutality, as to be dis
inclined towards the recovery of a reasonable nature,
like those with whom it is said Orpheus had to deal ;
who (being savages, without tke ktiowledge of morality
or law) reduced them into society, by recommending to
them piety to tke Gods, and instructing tkem in tke
•ways of superstition ¦\ : yet this was not the case of the
generality of those with whom these Lawgivers Avere
concerned : and therefore if we would assign a cause
of this pretence to revelation as extensive as the fact,
it must be that which is here given. But, zdly, we
find, that where Religion was previously settied, no in
spiration Avas pretended. On this account neither
Draco nor Solon, Lawgivers of Athens, laid claim to
any: for they found Religion Avell secured by the in
stitutions of Triptolemus and loti. And we know,
• Xli^vKt yag Itu. Koti xamt iri TBTa le) ToiV "EA^tuo-i k) toi; hafiar
•oi;' ^o^llll(o( ykf 'itrx;, airo a7fora//*«1®' Kot^S ^u<rit. Strabo, Geogr.
i. xvi. Edit, Casaub, p. 524. lin. 16.
t — -"Oti SugiiJJt*? otiaq rtiq at^^uire;, lej art Mn, are f»/«iif, eiJoror
tU Jfe»o-iSasi/*o>{an- kyccyut, kJ im re ei/rt^iif or«g«xa?i/{r«{. Heraclit.
de Incred. c. 23. tha!^

32

Sect 2;] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED.
that had pretended inspiration been only, or princi
pally, for the easier introduction and reception of civil
policy, the sanguinary laws of Draco had stood in
more need of the sanction of a revelation, than any
other of antiquity. Indeed, Maximus Tyriiis goes so
far as to say, that Draco and Solon prescribed nothing
in their laws, concerning the Gods, and their Avorship*;
which, if true, would make as much against us, on the
other hand. But in this he is mistaken. Porphyry
quotes an express law of Draco's concerning the
mode of divine worship. Let the Gods and our own
'country heroes be pubUcly worshipped, according to
the established rites; when privately, according to
'every mans abiUties, with terms of the greatest re
gard and reverence ; with the first fruits qf their
labours, and w'ith annual libations \. Andocidesf,
quotes another of Solon, Avhich provides for the due
and regular celebration of the Eleusinian myste-
111E.S. Athenceus does the sarae. And how consider
able a part theac were of divine worship, and of
what importance to the very essence of religion, Ave
shall see hereafter.
2. As to a provision for the perpepiity of national
laws and institut'ions ; This entered not into the inten-
* ns ya,f *A9))raioi; a-tmitici, — Ti ftlv To iaiiiSntit, tcruq i^ rii/,nlsot ;
i yaj TW Kva/Mi Aa;^o»l£{ J'tjtarai X''^'°' T'"'''''* i^tld^aa-ii, iil 1.i,7si,ii n
JffEp avrut yiyfaCptt, iil 01 ApaKO»)®- crBjA.voi to^ai. DlSSert. XXXIX.
j). 383. Edit. Lugd. 1630; Svo.
. t @£Bc Ti/ia» Kj' "H^uaq Ifx'^fi'ias it Koi'yu, tiroi/.staq to/Miq •acti^Utq,
M'm xetla ivva,fi.it crit ii(priiAia Xj' iwa?X«'V Ka^TTm, x^ 'SSi'Ka.tm imVwu.
be Ab'st. 1. iv. § 22. (£dit. Cantabr. 1655, 8vo.) according to the
ebendations of Petit and Valentinus.— The law is thus introduced^
kea-fioq aisJm©' Tor; 'Xiiiia ttfiOiiitotq, Ki/'fi©- T0» »7rail» X?° "''"¦'
t Orat. riigi Murwfiw*, apud Decern Orat,
.Vol. I. Y tloo

322 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book II.
tion ofthe old Greek legislation; nor, ifit had, could
it have been obtained by giving them a divine ori
ginal. Amongst the wild projects of the barbarous
eastern pplicy, one might find, perhaps, something like
a system of immutable laws ; but the Grecian Law
givers were too well acquainted with the nature of
man, the genius of Society, and the vicissitude of hu
man things, ever to conceive so ridiculous a design.
Besides, the Egyptian legislation, frpm AA'hich they
borrowed all their civil Avisdoth, went upon very differ
ent principles. It directed publit laAvs to be occa
sionally accommodated to the variety of times, places,
and manners. But had they aimed at perpetuity, the
belief of a divine imposition Avould not have served the
turn ; for it never entered their heads, that civil insti
tutes became irrevocable by their issuing from the
mouth of a God ; or that the divinity of the sanction
altered the mutability of tbeir nature: the honour
of this discovery is due to certain modern writers, who
have found out that divine authority reduces all its
commands to one and the same species. We have a
notable instance of this in the conduct of Lycurgus.
He was the only exception to the general method, and
singular in the idle attempt of making his laAvs per
petual. For his whole systera being forced and
unnatural, the sense of that iraperfection, it is pro
bable, put him upon the expedient of tying them on
an uiiAvilhng people. But then he did not apply
divine authority to this purpose ; for, though he pre
tended to inspiration like the rest, and had his reve
lations from Apollo, yet he well knew that the authority
oi Apollo would not be thought sufficient to change
the nature of positive laws : and therefore he bound
4 tht

Sect 3.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED* 323
the People by an oath, to observe his policy till his
return from a voyage, which he had determined be
forehand never to bring to that period.
Having shewn that there was no need of a pretence
to revelation, for the establishtnent of civil Policy,
it follows, that it was made for the sake of Relig'ion.

SECT. lit.
THE SECOND step the Legislators took to propagate
and establish Religion, was to make the general doc
trine of a Providence (with which they prefaced and
introduced their laA^¦sJ the great sanction of their
institutes. To this, Plutarck, in his tract against
Colotes the Epicurean, refers, where he observes,
that Colotes kimself praises it ; that, in civil Insti
tutes, the first and most important article is the belief
of the Gods. And so it was (says he) that, with ,
voxvs, oaths, divinations, and omens, Lycurgus sanctified
the Lacedemonians, - Numa the Romans, ancient Ion
the Athenians, and Deucalion aU the Greeks in ge
neral: And by hopes and fears kept up amongst
tkem, tke awe and reverence of religion*. Oii this
practice was formed the precept of the celebrated
Archytas the Pythagorean; which sectj as we shall
see hereafter, gave itself up more professedly to
• —'AWki /ib 5; ye xj KoKurvq iircntu itetli^eUi rSt toj^ui, lafZrot
irt» i wifj Se£. ^la, xj fi/y.roi'. ? xj AoxS^yo? A«,%iixtjA.<,tUq, ^ NS/Aaf
¦pMfiKisf, kJ 'lat i •EoSa.Kf 'AG^toisf, x,' Asi/x-aXia* "E^^1Wi« o,^3 Tot
w«ill«s XaG«irwo-«» evxt~i, «; of"'*. >^ f-t^trivitam, xj 9V«'5, !;x7ra9£r(
mflq rk Ser* *." I^ffi^•«» Sjx» xj 9^'^'^'' y-dli^iwAi. Edit. Francof,
fol. 1599, p. 1225. D. y 2 legislatiooj

324 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book IL
legislation; and produced the raost faraous founders
pf civil policy. This Lawgiver, in the fragraents of his
work de lege, preserved by Stobceus, delivers hiraself in
this manner : The first law of the Constitution should
be for the support qf what relates to the Gods, the
Daemons, and our Parents, and, in general, of what
soever is good and venerable *. And in this manner,
if we may believe Antiquity, all their civil institutes
were prefaced ; its constant phrase being, when speak
ing of a Lawgiver, AIEK02MEI THN HOAITEIAN
Alio ©EXIN APXOMENOS.
The only things of this kind now reraaining, are
the pKefAces to the laws of Zaleucus and Cha-
IiONDAs, Lawgivers of the Locrians and of the
Ckalcidic cities of Italy and Sicily, conteraporaries
with Lycurgus i:. These, by good fortune, are pre
served in Diodorus and Stoba;us. A great Critic has
indeed arraigned their authority ; declared them spu
rious ; and adjudged thera for an iraposture of the
Ptolomaic Age;};. And were it as he supposes, the
fragraents would be rather stronger to our purpose :
for, in that case, we raust needs conclude, the very
learned sophists who forged them had copied from
the general practice of antiquity: And that very
leamed they were, appears both from the excellence
of the composition, and the age of the pretended
composers. Whereas, if the fragments be genuine,
* AiX rot t6fj,ot ra srefi Ssa; xj Jai^ota; xj yotUq, i^ ohaq ra, xaha. x^
Ti/^ia la^Zra Tifiiffflai. Stob. de Rep. Serm. xli. p. ^6g.Iin. 13.
Tiguri, fol. 1599.
t Arist. 1. ii. c. 12. p. 449. Edit. Du Val.
X Dissert, on the Epistles of Phalaris, with an Answer to the.
objections of Mr. ESoyle, they

Sect 3-J OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 325
they do not so directly prove the universality, as
the antiquity, of tiie practice. But as my aim is
truth, and truth seeming to bear hard against this
learned Critic's deterraination, we must hold to the
common opinion, and examine what hath been offered
in discredit of it.
The universal current of antiquity runs in favour
of these remains, and for the reality of their author's
legislative quality. Aristotle, Theophrastus, Tully,
Diodorus Siculus, and Plutarch, the raost learned
and inquisitive Avriters of their several ages, declare
for their being genuine. HoAvcver, Tim^us thought
flt to deny that Zaieucus had given laws to the
Locrians ; nay, that there Avas ever such a Lawgiver
existing. We shall be the less surprised at this
paradox, when we come to know the character and
studies of the raan : he Avas by profession an historian,
but turned his talents to invent, to aggravate, and
expose the faults and errors of all preceding Avriters
of name and reputation. Polybius, Strabo, and Dio-
d'orus Siculus, three of the wisest and most candid
historians of Greece, have concurred to draw him in
the most odious colours. The first speaks of hira in
this manner : How he came to be placed amongst the
pr'mc'ipal writers of history, I know not, — He deserves
neither cred'it nor pardon of any one; having so
manf estly transgressed aU the rules of decency and
decorum in kis excessive calumnies, springing from
an innate malignity of heart *- This envious rabid
* Oi«. aiy 'vTTuq IxIpifBrai ii^at, ui ^zi)». rht TaT« irvfy^atpiuq
rojo-ao-iav, —'Ey.eh®- i' at oix uxaruq Ti/i^aKoi avlyt^f^-ni Hi wirew;
Vsr" iiitoq, ita to isrjoipafas it Ta^j Aof^ojiais ixiriTrlitt ra y.pi&Uotloi,
iiet rot iji,<fv\ot mn^'iat. Excerpt, ex 1. xii. Hist.
' " y 3 temper,

326 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book IL
temper, joined to a perversity of mind, delighting in
contradiction, gained him the titie of EPITIM^US,
the CALUMNIATOR. And, what is a certain mark
of a base and abject heart, he was as excessive in
his flattery ; as Avhen he makes Timoleon greater tkan
tke greatest Gods *. He took so rauch pleasure in
pontradicting the raost received truths, that he wrote
a long treatise, Avith great fury and ill language, to prove
that the bull of Phalaris was a raere fable. And yet
Diodorus and Polybius, Avho tell us this, tell us
likewis-^, that the very bull itself was existing in their
tirae : To all which, he was so little soUcitous about
truth, that Suidas says, he Avas nicknaraed TPAOSTA-
AEKTPIA, a composer qf old wives fables. Polybius
informs us Avith what justice rt was given him, In
censuring the faults of others, he puts on such an air
of severity and confidence, as f he kimself xeere exempt
from failings, and stood in no need of indulgence. Yet
are kis own kistories stu fed with dreams and prodigies,
with tke most wild and improbable fables. In short,
full qf old wives wonders, and of the lowest and basest
super stit'ion'\. Agreeable to all this, Clemens Alex-?
andrinus gives hira as the very" pattern of a fabulous
and satiric writer. And he appeared in every respect
of so ill a character to Mr. Bayle, that this excellent
Critic did not scruple to say, that, " in all appearance,
" he had no better authority when he denied that
* Suidas iu TjmffiO. Tt^.ai®' il z*?'?" ¦orqiti* TijuoXiotla rut
l^ipcttes-arut Qiut.
¦\ Out©- yaf it (/.£» raXq rat imi^aq xalnropiatq 'aro^^>)^ liri(fa'itti ieitoTm^
t^ ToA/*»»' it il rati i^iizi; cciro^a,tri<Ttt ivvTrtiut xj Tepar«» xj livSut
UTiiavat, xj a-vXXiSint 1^ ieta-tixt/jiotisfi ayiiiSf x^ TEfalsiafJ yvtaixuSnf
Wi 'aT^ri^q. E.\cerpt. de Virt. & Vit. ex 1, xii, *' Zaieucus,

Sect 3.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 327
" Zaieucus had given laws to the Locrians*." To
say all in a word, he was the Oldmixon f of the
Greeks ; and yet this is the man Avhom the learned
writer hath thought fit to oppose to all antiquity,
against Zaleucus'i legislation and existence. It ap
pears the more extraordinaiy, because he himself hath
furnished his reader Avith a violent presuraption against
Timaeus's authority, Avhere he says :[:, Tkat Polybius
charges him witk false representations relating to the
Locrians. He adds indeed, that nothing is now extant
that skews Polybius tkougkt Timasus mistaken con
ceming Zaieucus. But since Polybius quotes a law
as a law of Zaieucus, it seems a proof, in so exact
a writer, of his being well assured that, amongst
Timaeuss falsehoods concerning the Locrians, one wa»
his denying Zaieucus to be their Lawgiver.
Timaeus's reasons are not corae down to us from
Antiquity : But the fragments of Polybius §, mention
ing his outrageous treatment of Aristotle concerning
the origin of the Locrians, speak of one Echecrates
a Locrian, from whom Timasus boasted he had received
information on certain points in question : Hence the
learned Critic, as it would seem, concludes this to
have been a part of the Locrians intelligence, that
there was no such man as Zaieucus \\. As if, because
Timffius relied on Echecrates's information in the dis-
* Et apparcmment il ne fut pas mieux fonde, quand il nia que
Zaieucus eftt donne des loix h ce peuple, [les Locriens.J Timee^
Rem. F.
t See Clarendon and Whitlock compared.
t Dissert, upon Phalaris, p. 337.
§ Excerpta ex Polybio de Vin. & Vitiis, ex 1. xii.
.[j P. 336. Dissert, upon Phalaris, y 4 pute

328 THE DIVINE LEGATION [BooklJ.
pute betAA'een hira and" Aristotle, therefore Echecrates
must, of necessity, support all his paradoxes concerning
that people. But admit Echecrates to have been of
the same opinion Avith Tiraasus, in this raatter; Is he,
Avho, for aught we know, raight be as singular and as
whimsical, in his love of contradiction, as Tiraaeus
himself, an evidence to be opposed to Cicero's ? who
tells us, that his Clients the Locrians had, in his tirae
a Tradition ©f Zaleucus's legislation*. And we raay
Avell presurae, that Cicero, inquisitive, and even curious,
as he Avas in raatters of antiquity, AAOuld examine this
point Avith care : and, had their archives reclaimed it,
he had hardly thought it worth his while to raention
their Tradition. But, says the learned Critic, if,
Echecrates, in that age, did not beUeve there zcas any
Zaieucus, he is certainly as credible as Cicero's
Locrians, who came so many generations afterwards,
after so many revolutions and changes in their Go
vernment '\. This reasoning has small force, because,
from the sane premisses, we may argue just the
other way, and say, that if the Tradition kept its
ground through all those changes and revolutions of
State, it would seem to have had a very strong foun
dation. The authority then of Tiraasus against the existence
and legislation of Zaieucus in general, is of no weight.
Let us next see Avhat the learned Critic hath to urge
against the authenticity of those laws which go under
Zaleucus's name. His arguments are of tAvo sorts:
the one dra\i n frorn tiie dialect, and from the use of
• De Lcgibus, 1. ii. c. 6. Edit. Ox. 4to. T. III. p. 141.
t P'SSG. Dissert, upon Phalaris. several

Sect 3] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 329
several words, which are indeed later than his time;
the other, from Zaleucus's being no Pythagorean.
1. The woi^ds objected to, are these; AiTrlaj ^
y«j(^£i'«? — la-o^iXjiViov— KoVjMoy — Tfafw^iaif. This, and
the fragments being written in the common dialect,
instead of the Doric, are, in the Critic's opinion, suffi
cient evidence of the forgery.
He has eniployed a deal of good learning *, to prove
the xvords to be all later than the time of Zaieucus.
Let us see then the most that can be made of this
sort of argument. And because it is the best approved,
and readiest at hand, for the detection of forgery, and
supposed by some not a little to affect the sacred
Avritings themselves, Ave Avill enquire into its force in
general. It must be owned, that an instrument offered as the
writing of any certain person, or age, Avhich hath
AA'ords or phrases posterior to its date, carries w ith it
the decisive marks of forgery. A public Deed, or
Diploma, so discredited, is lost for ever. And to such,
was this canon of criticism first applied with great
success. This encouraged following critics to try it
pn writings of another kind ; and then, for want of a
reasonable distinction, they began to raake very wild
work indeed. For though in corapositioiis of abstract
speculation, or of mere fancy and amusement, this
touch might be apphed with tolerable security, there
being, for the most part, no occasion or temptation to
alter the diction of such writings, especially in tiie
ancient languages, which suffered small and slow
change, because one sort of these works was only for
* From pp. 346 to 356 of the Dissertation. the

330 THE -DIVINE LEGATION [BookIL
the use of a few learned raen ; and the principal rarity,
and often the beauty, of the other sort, consisted in
the original phrase ; yet in public and practical writings
of Law and Religion, this Avould be found a very
fallacious test : It Avas the raatter only which was re
garded here. And, as the niatter respected tiie whole
people, it was of iraportance that the words and
phrases should be neither obscure, ambiguous, nor
equivocal : This would necessitate alterations in the
style, both as to words and phrases. Hence it appears
to me, that the ansAver, which commentators give to
the like objection against the Pentateuch, is founded
in good sense, and fully justified by the solution here
attempted. The Religion, Law, and History of the
Jews Avere incorporated ; and consequently, it was the
concern of every one to understand the Scriptures.
Nor doth the superstitious regard, Avell known to have
been long paid to the xvords, and even letters of Scrip
ture, at all weaken the force of this argument : for
that superstition arose but frora the tirae when the
masoret doctors fixed the reading, and added the vowel
points. I have taken the opportunity, the subject
afforded me, to touch upon this matter, because it is
tbe only argument of moment, urged by Spinosa,
against the antiquity of the Pentateuch; on which
antiquity the general argument of this work is sup
ported. The application of all this is very easy to the case
ill hand : The fragraent of Zaieucus Avas part of a
body of Laws, which the people Avere obliged to um
derstand ; so that a change of old words and obsolete.
phrases Avould be necessary : and to raake this an argu
ment against the antiquity of the fragment^ would he
the

Sect 3.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 331
the sarae good reasoning as to suppose, that the remains
pf the Twelve Tables, or the earlier laAvs in our cora
mon Statute books, were the forgeries of later tiraes,
because full of words unknown to the respective ages
in which those laws were composed and enacted. But,
indeed, the change of obscure Avords, or obsolete
phrases, for others more clear and intelligible, Avas a
common practice amongst the Paganwriters. Porphyry,
making a collection of heathen oracles, professes to
have given them just as he found them, without the
least alteration; except, says he, changing an obscure
word, now and then, for one more clear: a practice,
Avhich, for its fairness and frequency, he ranks with
amending a corrupted word, or reforraing the raetre*.
But this licence was not confined to the Ancients ; for,
being encouraged by the reason of things, it was likely
enough (as is, in fact, the case) that all tiraes should
afibrd examples of it. One of the editors of Froissart
speaking of his author's text, says, " touchant le stile,
" & ancienne'maniere d'escrire de nostre auteur, je ne
" doute point qu'il n'ayt este quelques autrefois change
" & aucunement renouvelle selon les temps f." All
the Editions of Jomville's life of St. Louis bear testi
mony to the sarae practice; which was so general that
Pasquier says, " s'il y eut un bon livre compose par
" nos Ancetres, lorsqu'il fut question de le transcrire,
• lOTi iiaya ti Seas («e?/!u{0/iai, ai ailt are itfoH^siKO., 'ire a,(pe~hat
rm xf^ir6iilut toTijiO-rat' ti /ajj wa ^£|l^ iij,al^nf/.hr,t ini^Qua-a, >i nPOZ
TO 2A*ESTEP0NMETABEBAHKA, V ro i/,il^at iWtX'ait ateir>^i^aaa,
% T» rZt fti B-pS? rm «r^o9£0-,> cvHettitlat idy^a^a. Porph. apud
Euseb. Praep. Evang. lib. iii. cap. 7.
-i Dennis Sauvage, Avertisement aux Lecteurs.
- " les

332 THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookIL
« les Copistes le copioient non selon la naife langue
" de 1' Auteur, ains selon la leur *."
As to the change oid'talect, the great Critic thus ex
presses himself: The last argument I shall offer
ao-a'mst the Laws of Zaieucus, is this, that the Pre
face of them, wh'ich Stobaeus has produced, is xvritten
in the common dialect, whereas, it ought to be in the
Doric, for that was tke language qf the Locri. — The
Laxcs qf Zaieucus therefore are commentitiqus, be
cause they are not in Doric f .
"W'hat hath been said above will shew this argu^
ment to have small force ; but it is urged with a pecu-.
liar ill grace by -the learned Critic, Avho, in his Disser-,
tation upon Phalaris, hath discovered, that Ocellus
Lucanus wrote the treatise Of the nature of the
universe in Z)onc;|;: and from thence rightly cpncludes,
it ought to be acknowledged for a genuine xoork, which
hitherto learned men have doubted of, from this very
'business of its being writ in the common dialect. For
xve novo see that every word of the true book is faithfully
preserved; the Doric being only changed into the
ordinary language, at the fancy ofsome copier §. Now,
surely, the rash suspicions of those learned men in the
case of Ocellus Lucanus, should have made hira raore
cautious in indulging his own. He should have con
cluded, if this liberty Avas taken Avith books of raere
speculation, it Avas more likely to be indulged in Avorka
so necessary to be understood as a body of laws;
especially wben he had observed (after Porphyry)
tkat the Doric is ahcays clouded w'ith obscurity [|.
* Rechi L. viii. c. 3. f Pp. 135, and 358,
: P. 47. S P. 4s>, II P. 317. Hence»

O .T .»
oo5

Sect 3J OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED.
Hence, doubtiess, trans-dialecting Avas no rare prac
tice. For, besides this instance of Ocellus Lucanus,
we have another, ia the poems going under the narae of
Orpheus : which, Jamblichus says, were Avritten in the
Doric dialect. But now the fragments of these poems,
left us by those avIio did not write in Doj'ic, are in the
comraon dialect. It is plain then, they liaA'c been
trans-dialect ed.
2. The learned Critic's other argument for the im
posture runs thus : The Report of Zaieucus being a
Pythagorean, xcas gathered from some passages in the
system qf laxi's ascribed to h'lm., for where else could
they meet xcith it ? so that, if it can be proved he icas
more ancient than Pythagoras, this false story of his
being a Pythagorean being taken from that .system,
must convict it qf being a cheat *. He then proceeds
to prove hira more ancient than Pythagoras; Avhich
he does, on the Avhole, Avitli great force of learning and
reasoning, though his arguments are not all equally
Avell chosen. As Avhere he brings this for a proof
tliat Zaieucus v:as no scholar of Pythagoras, " Because
" he ascribed all his laws to Minerva, frora Avhom he
" pretended to receive them in dreams : Avhich (in the
" learned Critic's opinion) has nothing of a Pythago-
" rean in it. For Pythagoras's scholars ascribed every
" thing to their raaster : it Avas always auro? sfpx with
" them, ke said it. Therefore, if Zaieucus had been of
',' that society, he Avould certainly have honoured his
" master, by imputing his laws to his instructions -f."
But this arguraent is of no Aveight : for, i . From what
has been said above of the genius of au'cient legislation,
• P. 337- t P- 338- it

334 THE DIVINE -LEGATION [Book It.
it appears, that tbe general practice required, and the
nature of tbe thing disposed the Lawgiver to ascribe
his laws to the inspiration of sorae God. 2. As to the
famous auTOf i(!>x, it was not peculiar to the Pythago
reans, but coramon to all the sects of Greece, jurare
in verba magistri. A device to keep them distinct and
separate from each other; and a compendious way
of arguing amongst those of the sarae school. It
would then have been ridiculous to have urged its
authority to any out of the sect ; more so, to the com
mon people ; and most of all, to them, upon public
and practical raatters ; tiie kvto; tpet being used only
in points of speculation, and in the schppls pf philoso
phy. Indeed, so unlucky is this arguraent, that, on
the contrary, the reader Avill be apt to conclude, that
this very circumstance of Zaleucus's ascribing his laws
to Minerva, Avas one of the things that gave rise and
credit to the report ofhis being a Pythagorean. And,
doubtless, it would have much AA^eight AA'ith those who
did not carefully enough attend to the ehronology.
For Zaieucus, in this, might be thought to follow both
the example and the precept of Pythagoras, who him
self pretended to be inspired by Minerva; and taught
it to his scholars as the raost efficacious Avay of esta
blishing civil justice, to propagate the opinion, of the
Gods having an intimate intercourse with mankind*.
But notAvithstanding the defect of this arguraent, the
learned critic, as aac said, proves his point with great
clearness, that Zaieucus was earlier than Pythagpras :
and, in conclusion, draAvs the inference abovementioned,
in these terms : It was generaUy repainted Zaieucus
•^ See Jambliehus.'s Life of Pythagoras, p. 147. edit. Knst. was

Sect 3.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 33^
was a Pythagorean ; it is proved he was not. This
wiU refute the book itsef. For 'f any intimation xvas
given in the book, that the author was a Pythagorean,
the imposture is evident. " And yet it is hard to
" give any otker j^eason, tkat skould induce the later
" writers to call k'lm a Pythagorean." Some impos
tor, therefore, inade a system of laxvs under the name
of Zaieucus, and in it gave a broad hint that he xvas
a scholar of Pythagoras.
Here he rests his point. If, then, it be riot hard to
give anotker reason, that should induce the later writers
to call him a Pythagorean, his long discourse to prove
Zaieucus the earlier of the two, is of no kind of use to
convict the pretended laAvs of imposture. I have
already hinted at anpther not iraprpbable reason, which
A\'as his having the sarae inspiring Goddess with Pytha
goras : And this Avill be much strengthened by the
observation, that Minerva became the peculiar patro
ness of the Pythagorean Lawgivers, on acfcount of the
assistance she had given to their master. To Avhich
we may add these further circumstances, that the laAvs
A^•ere in Doric (and supposing them genuine, they
certainly were so) which idiom Avas pecuhar to the
Pythagoric school*: and, that the Avhole proera of
Zaleucus's laAvs Avas formed agreeably to the precepts
of Pythagoras in this matter ; Avho directs, that, next
after the worship of the Gods, Deemon, and Parent
worship should be enjoined -f. Noav, later Avriters,
seeing these two visible marks of a Pythagorean, might,
¦without further reflection, be reasonably disposed* to
• See note [B] at the end.
t M«l« ^1 TO ^uat re ^ to Josi/aohm, w^^~f o» 'aoii~(ri»i ^oyof yotsut.
Jamb. Vit. Pyth. c. ;cxx. p. 148, thi:.k

33^ THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book iL
think Zaieucus oi that sect Put, as the learned critic
has well made out, from sure chronological evidence^
that this 'was a mistake, -^ve must seek for spme other
cause of the uniformity between them ; Avhich I take
to be this: Zaleu(.tt<, when Pythagoras flourished;
was in the highest repute in Greece for legislation ;
which raight incline this philosopher to imitate him/
both in his inspiring Goddess, and in the proem of his
la^\ s : so that posterity only mistook the copy for tiie
original. This they might very A\ell do ; for Pythago
ras and his sect had soon engrossed all the glory in the
practice of lawgiving : and this leads rae to another
probable cause of the common opinion of Zaleucus's
being a Pythagorean : The character of this sect, as
will be seen hereafter, was so great for legislation, that
after-ages thought nothing could be done to pur
pose in that way, which had not a Pythagorean for its
author. So, besides Zaieucus, the ancients supposed
Charondas, Numa *, Zaniolxis j", PhytiuS, Theocles;
Elicaon, Aristocrates, nay the very Dkuids^j:, the
legislators of Gaul, and, in a Avord, all the eminent
Lawgivers ^vho lived any where about the time of
Pythagorasj to be instructed by him. But will the
learned Critic say, that, therefore, all these Legislators
wcTe hnagiiiary persons, and did not give la^^'S to their
several cities ? This notion, arising from Pythagoras's .
great character and rejiutation, was nursed up and
improved by his folloAvers themselves, to beget honour.
* Quinetiaiii arbitror propter Pi/tkagoreorum admirationem,'
Numam quoqUe regem Pythagoremn a posterioribus existimatuiii.''
Tull. Tusc. Disp. lib. iv. c. i. Edit. Ox. 410. T. II. p. 331.
f Herod, lib. i.v. c. 95. Edit. Gale.
J Amraian. Marcell, lib.xv, c. g. p. 75. Edit. Gronov. fol. 1693/ t^

Sect 3.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 337
to their master; as, in fact, appears from several
passages in Jamblichus's life of th'dt Philosopher. So
that was there no more in it than this ; as Zaieucus'^
Institutions Avere in great repute, we might very
naturally account fbr the mistake.
But, lastly, it is indeed very true (as the learned
Critic suspected) tiiat the principal ground of the
report of Zaieucus be'mg a Pythagorean, xcas from
some passages in the system qf laws ascribed to kim„
He is only too hasty in his conclusion, that therefore
these must needs convict the system of a cheat. What
hurried him on, was his supposing, that no such report
could be gathered from passages in the system, but
such as raust be an intimation that the author was a
Pythagorean : and that there is no difference betAveen
giving and taking an intiraation. If, then, this report
might be gathered from passages which contained no
intimation, and if the reader might understand that to
be such, Avhich the Avriter never intended ; the con
sequence Avill be, that the credit of these fragments
Avill remain unshaken, though we grant the learned
Critic his whole premises, and all the facts he con
tends for.
It seems, then, to be certain, that the report of
Zaleucus's being a Pythagorean arose principally from
a passage in his system of laAvs. And it waS not
difficult to discover Avhat it was ; Zaieucus in his
preface speaks of an evil genius or Dc^mon, AAI-
MXIN KAK02, as influencing men .to wickedness.
This, thpugh a .notion of the highest* aAtiquity, whose prigiij
* 'Ajtrel.sAii? i' h is^^ru vref) ^O-.pjTot^ifti, >^ trfcaSvls^Hi atat (Magfui)
rut Aiyv'itiiiiit'' xj Ho xar «VTS{ «T>ai ,«?xWj ''Y^^^t i»iiiit(t, xj KAl^OJ?
Vol. I. Z 6AIH1PU4.

338 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book IL
origin and author are rauch disputed, yet becarae at
length the distinguishing doctrine of the Pythagoreans.
Plutarch, speaking of Pythagoras's opinion of the first
principle, says, that that philosopher called the Monad,
God, and Duad, the evil genius*. Which Duad
the" Pythagoreans used extreraely to vilify, as the cause
of all evil, under the narae of the bad principle,
as Plutarch would raake us believe f. The application
of this doctrine I suppose Pythagoras raight borroAv
from Zaieucus, and here again posterity be mistaken
only in the original author. However, we may collect
from the same Plutarch, that that opinion was cultivated
by all the ancient Lawgivers. For this learned raan, who
AAIMONA. Diog. Laert. Vit. Phil. Prooem. Seg. 8. Edit. Amstel.
1692, 4tO.  Oix a'iia jAi ts;!/ IIANT IIAAAinN rat arowaralet
Atayy,a7^^{j,£t 'm^ociix-'^^^^ T^oyot aq ra, (^avT^a iat^otia, x^ ^ao-Kata,
^Uj^oc7(p^ov'tit\a roXq a.ya^o'tq ccvi^autt x^ raTq 'Zffpo^ea-it uti^a^eta, TApavaJ
;^ CpiQuq iiraya, crcUtla xj a-(pa,XMila rm a^irit' aq jxh imfjieitatlii
uTnanq it ra y.a'Kto xj oati^aiot^ ^iMtot'^ iAiUat fAoipaq ^ela mt re^Evlrit
rixaa-n' Plut. Vita Dionis, in initio.
¦ 'nvQayo^aq rut cc^xj^t rm {Mt fjioteiia ^tot, xj r ayct^ot ^T»f if)i
71 TS itoq <pv(7i^, airaq o i/S;" rm i ao^irot ivaia, AAIMONA, xj T^
KAKON, rot^i i'lt tri to v>.ixoi ra^Jfi©'. De Plac. Phil. lib. i. c. 7.
p. 1624. E. S. (T. II. p. 881. D. Edit. Francof. 1599, fol-)
¦f of l^Bv rif Oayo^woi ita, 'Ej^^iiotut otonarm xarrifof&trt, tS jIaej a,ya6&
ro et •!!7E'ff£^aa-{A,itou, -ro fievtjt, ro ev^v, ro <s7epit^aotf to rtlpayutot, T«
.ii^iot, TO 7\aiJ,7r^ot- tS" iil KAKOYj rit ATAAA, to aTritpot, ri ¦
^t^ojAitot, TO xa.iiiiv?'.ot, TO afltot, ra It'ejo/^^xej, to aticrot, To apirepot,,
ro a-xoleitot' ari rairaq afxa-q ystEO-Eiis iitoy-eijihai' IlEpt 12. xj 02IP.
p. 660. St. Ed. I suppose the reason, why Avaq vpas amongst the
illn'ames said to be given by the Pythagoreans, to the' bud prin-
^A:iple, vvas, because,, in their superstitioi^s designations of the
various qualities of numbers, this ^vaq is very heavily loaded^
'"Ort ri flit MONA2 xaia rm i<roTuV xj to j/Sr/ot Xajji,Qaver:it' i 54
J^vaq xa6' iire^QoXm xj i?i>>ei-^it. Anon, de Vita Pythag. apud
I'hotium.-.Edit. Hoeschelii, fol. 1612. pa^. 1314.

Sect 3.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 339
who favoured the notion of tavo principles, the one
good, the other evil, affects, I observe, to draw every
ancient Avriter, who but mentions an ev'd deemon, into
his own sect.. In his treatise of Isis and Osiris,
he speaks to this purpose, " That it was a most
" ancient opinion, delivered as Avell by LaavgiverS
" as Divines, that the Avorld was neither made by
" Chance, neither did one Cause govern all things,
*' without opposition *."
This notion therefore, delivered in the proem of
Zaleucus's laAv, might be very well taken for an intima
tion of the authors being a Pythaiijorean, and yet, not
being so given, it has not the least tendency to discredit
the compilation.
On the whole then, 1 presume, it appears, that the
credit of these remains stands unshaken by any thing
the learned Critic has advanced to the contrary ; and
that Ave may safely produce them as of the antiquity
they lay claira to.
Thus Zaieucus begins his pi-eface : " Every inhabit-
" ant, whether of town or country, should first of all
" be firmly persuaded of the being and exittence of
" the Gods : which belief he will be readily induced
" to entertain, when he contemplates the heavens,
" regards the world, and observes the disposition,
"order, and harmony of the universe; which can
" neither be the work of blind chance, nor of man.
" These Gods are to be worshipped as the cause
" of all the real good Ave enjoy. Every one therefore
* Aio xj wa/iTTaAai®- avrn xareio-tt Iz QeoXiyav i^ NOMOeETfiN—
aq ir atat x^ a^oyot xj omt^e^fiHov aia^iXrat ra airof^ara ro <ma,t, «ts
4K Ij-it 0 x^alut xj xaizv^ivat, acrire^ ala^it n rtcri ¦Tret&riiioiq jjaTiitorj
>icij«®.. Ibid, de I<r. et 0<n^. p. 658.
z 2 " should

340 THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookIL
" should so purify, and possess his mind, as to have
" it clear of all kinds of evil ; being persuaded that
" God is not honoured by a wicked person, nor accept-
" ably served, like miserable man, with sumptuous
" ceremonies, or taken with costly sacrifices, but with
" Virtue only, and a constant disposition to good and
" just actions. On Avhich account, every one should
" labour all he can to becorae good, both in practice
" and principle, whereby he will render himself dear
" and acceptable to God ; should fear more that which
" leads to ignominy and dishonour, than that AA'hich
" leads to less of wealth and fortune ; and esteem
" him the best Citizen, Avho gives up his worldly
" goods, rather than renounce his honesty and love of
" justice ;. But those, whose headstrong appetites Avill
" not suffer them to be restrained within the limits
" of these things, and whose hearts are turned with a
" natural bias towards evil, whether they be men or
" woraen, citizens or sojourners, should be told, tohave
" the Gods always in mind, to think upon their nature,
" and of the judgments they have in store for Avicked
" men; to set before themselves the dreadful hour
" of death, a period they must all arrive at ; when the
" memory of evil actions past will seize the sinner with
" 7rniorse, accompanied with the fruitless wish, tkat
" ke had submitted his actions to the rules qf Justice.
" Every one, therefore, should so watch over hia be*
" haviour, as if that hour were still present with hint,
" and attended all his motions : which will be the way
" to keep up in hiraself an exact regard to right and
" justice. But if the wicked demon be instanJ!
" to influence him to evil, let him fly to the
" altai-s and teraples of the Gods, as the surest asylunj
10 « from

Sect 3.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 341
" from that cruellest and wickedest of tyrants. Evil,
" and implore their assistance to drive her far from
" him. To this end, let him also have recourse to those,
r whose reputations are high for probity and virtue*;
" whom he may hear discourse of the happiness of
" good, and the vengeance attending evil menf."
* Meaning the m«n set apart for the service of religion, such as
Virgil describes in his Elysium, .3in. L. vi. p. 265. Ed. Ven. 1638.
Quique sacerdotes (fasti, dum vita manebat ;
Quique pii vates & Pheebo digna locuU.
avhich not only shews the Legislator's sense of their use, but of
,^^the necessity of their practising what they teach to others.
'\ T^i xetloiKStlatq rm 'sroAiy x^ rm X"P°^^! 'Bsatraq 'Or^arov 'ZstTreTffQzi
Jl^fl, x^ tifiiifit Sesi eltxt, 1^ atst^fii'Troilai Iq i^atoi, x^ toi^ xoa^ot, x^
T^ %t «vTo~5 iktmoCjA.'Dait, xj Ta^i»* u yag rvx^i, ^i cct6^uiiat eitai
itii/,ts^iliale( ceQea-6eii H TSTii; x^ rtjAav, iiq air'mq otlaq airailut
iioi kya^ut, rm xola AoyDy y>Ttojt,itut. "ExKrwi 8» ex^^t x^ •ax^SiaKsva^at
iiT rm aina ^v^my <aa!\a» run xxxui, xa^a^tif aq » TifiaTat 5ioq i^r
tttifuirs ^CFbXs, ii( ^EfaTiiirat iawatatq, He r^giTuiiaiq rat a,Mirxojii,itat,
naiiiTtf f*o^6iijo? atifuTT®., a?iX a^elri jjj «r^oaigeVB rat xa>\,ut e^Fat
i^iixaiut. Aio (xaro> ieX slq iitafMt ayu6ot eiyat, ,^fff^a^n >^ 'sr^oai^ian
ret neTArnlx lo'f^at Sto^iJk?' 1^ fin ^oG£«r9ai raq tii jfp^f.taTa t,riiJ.iaq
jjta?J^ot rut ftg kI^X'^^'' reitotrut' 1^ 'JroKtrm (^/<iEli/o)ta oi'of,f,u^eit rlt rm
i^iat lafeieitsso) ^»Mo» tS xaAS 1^ itxa'm' 'otroif il ^ij pai)ot m^oq ravr»
rm offtm trtvt~ir6x>, rm ie ¦^vxm exhciv ftKijAjIoj/ rofo; »i,x'Mt, ai
rijUt <trxfrifyi\6u' «««¦» roTq ToiBTOt? ¦nroAiTai;, j^ ropXiTto-j xj iito'ixotq
ftEjuy^cSai heat uf o»1u)', >^ Hxxq iirtTrtj/.iriilut roXq ^Sixotq x^ TiBiaSat 'apa
il/Lfiarut rit xcufou rSrtt, it u y'mrxt ri TtA©- Ixir^ t?? airafj^uyviq t§
{«»¦ erSfft yup ifjt,ii't7iltt ^£Taftt^E»a Tor; ftiMiHa-t rsMvrat, iJ,efi,yrijihoiq u»
iiixixxirt, xj lf/»^ t£ ^sAto-flat ¦aa^x latit^xx^ai itxxiuq avroXq' Aio iu
ixxfot taxf ixxrm w^i^tt uti a-vtotxttat rit xxi^it rSrot, .aq i}) 'psufitla'
«T6) yap xt fta^ir* ra x«XS xj t5 it^tain (pfOtltsXt' iat ii rif isrxfarp
AAIMHN KAK02 rpi-^ut «rfo{ xi'xixt itxl^tSfit w^oq taoiq >^ ^ufAoTq
£ rifiiteat, (feiyotla rm aitxiat aq iea-icoitat eureSerxrm xj ^(^xMiralxrii*
ixHeuotla roiq heuf avtx.'TTol^i'nttt airm' Utat il >^ m^iq atiifstq d'o|«,)i
evoilaq iir xti^xfa^'itf, ac.Si7o^.Eki&' -ae^l t£iai(K,o»©- ^(B, xj xaxat Ativan
TifMDfias itx xirol^eirn ran xi'txut e^fut. Apud Stobsum, Seini. xlii.
p. 27p. lin. 13. Tiguri. fol. 1559.
z 3 One

342 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book IL
One would wonder, that any man, who had atten
tively considered this admirable fragraent, could think
it the forgery of a Sopiiist It is plain, the author of
it understood human nature and society at another
rate, lie hath not only given us an exact portrait of
natural Religion ; but, in applying it to the State, hath
explained the use and subserviency of its parts to the
three great classes of raankind. He hath recora
mended tlie intrinsic excellence of virtue, and com
pliance with the JVill and example .of the Gods, to
those who are of so ingenuous' and well-framed a nature
as to be always disposed to erabrace truth and right :
to others, of a less heroic turn of mind, such who
idolize their honour, he holds out fame and ignominy,
as tbe inseparable attendants of good and evil actions :
and, to the coraraon run of more intractable and per
verse tempers, he preaches up the doctrine oi future
rewards and punishments* . 1 will only observe, it
appears to have been frora hence, that Pomponatius
borrowed the beautiful passage, which is quoted at
large in the first book of this discourse.
Thus Zaleucus. And much in the same fashion
does Charondas introduce his Laws.
In iraitation of the practice, Plato likewise, and
Cicero, both preface their Zarowith the sanctions of
Religion. And though these two great men were not,
strictly speaking, Lawgivers in form ; yet we are not
to suppose that v.hat they wrote in this science, was
like the dreams of the Sophists, for the amusement of
the idle and curious. They were both well practised
in affairs, and deeply conversant in human nature; and
* See note [C] at the end. they

Sect 3-1 OF ]\IOSES DEMONSTRATED. 343
they formed their speculative Institutes on tiie plan,
and in tiie spirit and a-Ibavs of ancient legislation : the
foundation of Plato's being the Attic Laws; and the
foundation of Cicero's, the Twelve Tables: ^vho hiiiiT
self takes care to Avarn us of this particular. " In
" imitation of Plato, tiie most learned, and, at the
-' sarae tirae, the Avisest of the philosophers, a\ ho wrote
" best* of a republic, and hkewise, separately, of tiie
" laws thereof, I think it Avill be proper, before I give
¦' the law itself -j", to say soracAA'hat in reconiraendation " of
* I read here, with Turnebus, qui priiiceps de rep. couscripsif.
Lambin objects to this reading, because we gather from Aristotle,
that Plato Zi-as not tkejirst who wrote qf a republic; he supposing
princeps signified primus, whereas it means opfimus. This was
Tully 's opinion of Plato, as may be gathered from many places in
his writings. And in this sei*r,e, Turnebus, without doubt, under
stood the word; a sense familiar to his author, as in Ver. lib. iv.
cap. 49. " in qua [Pa/;-M] multis virtutibus & beneftciis floruit
PRixcEPs.' But the word primus itself is sumetimes used iu tfi),^
sense of princeps ; as in A'irgil,
Prima qnod ad Trojam - - -
t " Ut priusquam ipsam legem recitem, de ejus legis laude
dicam." This passage is not wiihout its difficulty. If by Le.v
be meant the whole system of his laws, which the tenor of the
discourse leads one to suppose ; then, by L-4.US, the recommenda
tion of it, we are to understand his shewing, as he does in the
following chapter, that the Gods interested themselves very much
in the observance of civil laws ; which implies, that they were
indeed their laws : and so Tully calls them, in the 4th chapter of
this book: " Ita principem legem illam, & ultimam, mentem esse
" dicebant, omnia ratione autcoge«tis, aut vetantis Dei; ex qua
" ilia lex quam Dii humano generi dederunt, recte est lavvata."
And the shewing that civil laws came originally from the Gods»
vas the highest recommendation of them. But if by lex we
z 4, are

544 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book IL
" of it : which, I observe, was the method of Zaleucus
" and Charondas. For their systera of laws was not
*' an exercise of wit, or designed for the amusement
" of the indolent and curious, but composed for the
" use of the public in their several cities. These, Plata
" imitated ; as thinking this likewise to be the business
" of Law ; to gain somewhat of its end by the
*' gentler methods of persuasion, and not carry every
*' thing by mere force and fear of punishraent *."
Here, Ave see, he intimates, that Plato and hiraself
had the same view, in writing laAvs, \A'ith Zaleucus and
Charondas : namely, the service of a Pubhc. The
difference between thera was, that the two Originals
were employed by their country : and the two Copy
ists generously undertook an ofiice they Ayere nqt
called to.
HoAvever, Platq and Cicero are the .greatest autho
rities antiquity could afford, and the most deserving tQ
be heard in this raatter. Plato raakes it the necessary
introduction to his laws, to establish the being and pro-
videnc§
are to understand only the Jirsf law of the system, which begins,
-" Ad Divos adeimto caste," &c, then by laus is meant his shew-.
ing, as he does likewige in the foUowing chapter, the use and service
cf religion to civil society.
* Sed, ut vir doctissiinus fecit Plato, atque idem gravissimus
philosophorum omnium, qui princ*ps de repnblica conscripsit,
idemque separatim dc legibus ejus, id mihi credo esse faciendum ;
ut priusquam ipsam legem recitem, de ejus legis laude dicam.
Quod idem & Zaleucum & Charondam fecisse video ; cum quidem
illi non studii & delectationis, sed reipublicse causa leges civita
tibus suis scnpserunt. Quos imitatus Plato, videlicet hoc quoque
legis putavit esse, p«rsuadere aliquid, non omnia vi ac minis
cogere. De Legg. lib. ii. cap. 6. Edit. Ox. 4to. T. III. p, 141.

Sect. 3.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 345
vidence of the Gods by a laAv against sacrilege.
And he explains what he means by sacrilege, in the
follOAving Avords : " Eithei" the denial of the being of
" the Gods ; or, if that be owned, the denial of tiieir
" providence over men; or, thu'dly, the teaching, that
" they are flexible, and easy to \Te cajoled by prayer
" and sacrifice*." And alterwards; " It is not of
" small consequence, thot what we here reason about
" the Gods, should, by all means, be made probable;
" as, that they are; and, that they are good; and
" that their concern for justice takes place of aiiother
" human considerations. For this, in our opinion,
" seems to be the noblest and best preface thatcan
" be made to a body of laws j"." In compliance ivith
this declaration, Cicero's Preface to his laws, is con
ceived in the following terms: " Let our citizen then
" be first of all firmly persuaded of the government and
" dominion of the Gods; that they are the lords
*' and masters of the Avorld; tWat all things are dis-
" posed by their poAver, direction, and providence;
" and that the Avhole race of mankind is in the highest
" manner indebted to them; that they are intimately
"acquainted with every one's state and condition;
" that they know Avhat he does, what he thinks; with
?' Avhat disposition of mind, and with what degree of
* aWka *» ii T« rat rftut <ax<rx>^t, \ rSro  ax vyiftet®., v ri
ievrepot otlxq, « tp^ctli^ut xt^^uitat, % r^irot, eivafxij,v6riraq tTvotj,
dvirixlq re y^ llx<^Xq tua^afoiietuq. De Legg. lib. X. p. 885. B.Tom.II.
Edit. H. Steph. fol.
t itatpipa i' » ff-ftiy-jov afiatrye'raq mn^atirn^a, rtta raq \oynq ijiuv
exc't, »? Siol r Eic-i, JtJ ayaio), iixm rtf^-aileq ita(pefitraq a»fl|avra«- (rxiior
yxf TBTo V''' "'^H xTtMut rat toj/.it xxT^ifot re aJ a^efoa in^oo'ij/.iot a»
1%. Id. ibid. ,
" piety

34© THE DIVINE LEGATION [BookIL
" piety he perforras the acts and ofiices of religion ;
" and that, accordingly, they make a distinction he-
" tween the good and bad. The mind being irabued
" Avith these opinions, will never deviate frora truth
" and utility. And what ^rw-^A is, more evident than
" this, that no one' should be so stupidly arrogant, as
" to suppose, there is ]\Iind and Reason in himself,
" and yet none in the Heavens and the World ; or,
" that those things, whose uses and directions can
" scarce be coraprehended with the utraost stretch of
*' human faculties, may yet perform their motions
" without an understanding Ruler? But, He whora
" the courses of the heavenly bodies, the vicissitudes
" of day and night, the orderly teraperature of the
" seasons, and the various blessings Avhich the earth
" pours out for our sustenance and pleasure, will not
" excite, nay compel to gratitude, is unfit even to be
" reckoned in tiie number of men. And since things
" endowed with reason, are more excellent than
" those which AA'ant it ; and that it is jjaapiety to say,
" any particular is more excellent than the universal
" Nature: we must needs confess this Nature to be
" endowed with reason. That these opinions are
" likewise useful, who can deny, when he considers
" what stability is derived to the Public from within,
" by the religion of an oath ; and what security it
" enjoys from without, by those holy rites which affirm
" national treaties and conventions : how efficacious
" the fear of divine punishraent is, to deter raen from
" wickedness; and what purity of manners must reign
" in that Society, Avhere the immortal Gods thera-
" selves are believed to interpose both as judges and
" Avitnesses ?

Sect 3.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 347
" Avitnesses? Here you have the Proem of the law:
" for so-Plato caUs it*."
And then tolloAv the laws theraselves ; the first of
which is conceived in these Avords: " Let tiiose who
." approach the Gods, be pure and undefiled ; let their
" offerings be seasoned Avith piety, and all ostentation
" of pomp oraitted : tiie God himself w ill be his own
" avenger on transgressors. Let the Gods, and those
" who were ever reckoned in the number of Celestials,
" be worshipped; and those likcAvise, A^hom their
" raerits have raised to heaven ; such as Hercules,
" Bacchus, ^Esculapius, Castor, Pollux, and
" Romulus. And let chapels be erected in honour
• Sit igitur jam hoc a principio persuasum civibus, domirios
esse omnium rerum ac moderatores Deos, eaque quaj gerantur,
eorum geri, ditione, ac nuniine, eosdemque optirne de genere homi
num mereri ; & qualis quisque sit, quid agat, quid in se admittat,
qua mente, qua pietate colat religiones, intueri; piorumque &
jrapiorum habere rationem. His enim rebus imbutaj mentes,
haud sane abhorrebunt ab utili, & a vera sententia. Quid est
enim verius, quam neminem esse oportere tarn stulte arrogantem,
ut in se rationem & mentem putet inesse, in coelo inundoque non
putet? aut ut ea, quK vix summa ingcnii ratione comprehendat,
nulla ratione moveri putet? Quem vero astrorum ordines, quem
dierum noctiumque vicissitudines, quem mensium temperatio, quem-
queea, qu<e gignuntur nobis ad fruendum, non gratum esse cogant,
hunc hominem umiiino numerari qui decet? Cumque omnia, quae
rationem habent, prasstentiisjquae sintrationis expertia, nefasquesit
dicere, ullam rem prsestare naturas omnium rerum : rationem inesse
in eacunfitendum est. Utiles ease autem opiniones has, quis neget,
cum intelligat, quam multa firmentur jurejurando, quantae salutis
sint fa'deium religiones, qu2im multos divini supplicii metus a
^celere revocarit; quamque sancta sit societas civium inter ipsos,
Diis immortalibus interpositis tum judicibus tum testibus. Habes
legis procemium ; sic enim hoc appellat Plato. De Legg. lib. ii.
c. 7. Edit, Ox. 4to. T. III. pp. 141, 42. " to

348 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book IL
" to those qualities, by whose aid mortals arrive
" thither, such as Reason, Virtue, Piety, and
** Good-faith*."
* Ad divos adeunto castfe; pietatem adhibento; opes amo-
vento. Qui secus faxit, Deus ipse vindex erit.  Divos, & eo»
qui coelcstes temper habiti, colunto : & olios, quos endo coelo
merita vocaverint, Herculem, Liberum, jEsculapium, Caatorem,
PoUucem, Quirinum. Ast olla, propter quae datur homini ad-
sgeasus in ccelum, mentem, virtutem, pietatem, fidem, earumque
laudura delubra sunto. De Legg. lib. ii. c. 8. Edit, Ox, 4to.
T. III. pp. 142, 43.

NOTES

^otes.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 349

NOTES APPERTAINING TO
THE FIRST AND THIRD
SECTIONS OP
BOOK IL

P. 308. [A]
VALLA explains the word dvSpuiro(p\iia.i by e.r
hmninibus ortos ; and, I think, rightly. But our
learned Stanley, in his notes to the Persians of
Mschylus, understands it otherwise : and that it rather
signifies humana forma prceditos. I suppose it appeared
harsh to hira, that any one could iraagine the Gods
had kuman natures; but the meaning is explained
above. Yet the ingenious writer of the Letters con
cerning Mythology, p. 217. sides with our country
man, and understands ocv9puvo(pvris to signify, — made
Uke a man-— or, of the shape and figure of a man.
But if we regard the literal meaning of the two simples
which make up this compound, we cannot avoid un
derstanding it to signify, being of maris nature. How
then does this learned writer support his criticism? By
a passage

350 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Bookli:
a passage from Hecatceus ; who, on pretty much the
same occasion, uses (as he supposes) dv^pcoiropmiKpo^, in
the place of dv^pu'^oipvrig ; and a,v^pta-jropi.op<poq, he thinks,
all will agree, must signify, of tke skape and figure of
a man. No, not if his own method of interpretation
be right: for, if di,&pu7ro(pvri; (transferred from the
literal, to the figurative sense) raust signify of raan's
form, then a.v^puTroi/.op(po^ so transferred, must signify
qf man's nature. But it is not true, that llecatasus
uses iv^pairoixop^oi in the place of ocv^punroc^briq. -The
propositions of Herodotus and Hecataeus are different,
and therefore we may well suppose these two words,
in the predicate of each, to be different. Herodotus,
speaking of the Persians,, says, they had no statues
of their Gods, becdu.se they did not believe, with the
Greeks, that the Gods had human natures \jiv^ponromi(x,i\.
And Hecata?us, speaking of JMosES, says, he per
mitted no im-ages of the Gods, because he did not
hold, with the Gentiles, that God had a human form
\a.v^pa'7ropi,op(pov\. And their use of different words, as
we shall novv see, was with accuracy and discernraent;
for they were asserting different things. The question
between the Persians and the Greeks (who wor
shipped many Gods in common) was, whether these
Gods -were partake?^s qf human nature, du^puTrofpviKg ;
that is, whether they were dead men deified. But the
question between Moses and the Gentiles, was,
whether the God of the universe had a human form,
dv^puTs-opi.opi^o'; ; not whether the gods kad human na
tures; for these Gods, the Jews had nothing to do
with ; they Avorsliipped only the one God : and several
of the Gentiles, who had some knoAvledge of this one
; God,

Notes.] OF IMOSES DEMONSTRATED. 351
God, iraagined he might have a kuman form. So
that Ave see, the use of these twb terms, on the same
occasion, is so far from shevving their signification to
be the same, as the learned writer supposes, that the
occasion deraonstrably shews their signification to be
different. Let me only observe, it appeared so evi
dent to Eusebius, that the custom of making the
statues of the Gods in kuman form Avas an indi
cation of their original from mortality, that he says,
« yi To» a,Xi\^r,q Xoy^ j3oa jcai xsKfaff, pi-ovovxyA ^av^y
«f i£i?, S'vrilKj avSoxg [aoc^v^uv yiyonvoci rzg Sn'KH^ivsi;. Exiocyf.
TS-^OTTOt^. j3. y.
P. 335. [B]. This Ave are told by Jamblichus : his
words are, Xiyilai rott/vu ug fwvT) p/pijo-Sflsi T« zroil^wa.
£K«f Oif Br«f rfyEXTioi/, Vit. Pythag. 1 94. Kust. Ed. — Dr.
Bentley understands them to signify, that every one
should use his oxvn mother-tongue. And, indeed, Avith
out reading the context, one could scarce avoid giving
this sense to the passage. VizzA>fius, — that every
one should use the mother-tongue of Crotona ; which
was tke Doric. Of these, the learned Critic says,
xchich is tke true, perhaps all competent readers wiU not
be of one mind, p. 386. But I believe there Avill be no
great difference of opinions amongst those who weigh
the following reasons :
1. Jamblichus adds, to ya^ ^^vil^av sk ti?cx</i«^o» ; by
Avhich I understand hira to mean, that the Pythagoric
sect did not approve of a foreign or stranger dialect.
For if he meant, not the sect in general, but the par
ticulars of vvhich it -was coraposed, the several provin
cial Greeks who entered into it, no d'lalect could be
c^ed foreign to one or otber ofthem : if hs meant tlie
Sec^

<3.

52 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book IL
Sect, which v,e may suppose had a dialect peculiar and
consecrated to the Community, all, but that, was
foreign to it ; and the expression becomes proper and
pertinent. 2. ,Iamblichus, in the same place, tells us, that
Pythagoras valued the Doric above the other Greek
Dialects, as most agreeable to the Iuavs of harmony,
T'nv S\ Aagiai; SiBiXv/lov 'iy<x,^(/.ovia.v itvxi '. NoAV having
made the essence of the soul to be harmony, it was no
wonder he should chuse a dialect, ivhich he supposed
approached nearest to its nature ; that the mind and
tongue might go together.
3. Pythagoras seems here to liaA-e imitated his master
Orpheus, from whom, as Ave shall see hereafter, he
borrowed much of his philosophy; for Jamblichus
tells us, that the old writings that Avent under the
name of Orpheus, av ere composed in Doric.
4. But, lastiy, a passage in Porphyry's Z//i of Pytka-
goras seems alone sufficient to determine this matter :
Porphyry, giving the causes of the decay ofthe Pytha
goric philosophy, assigns this for one, that their commen
taries were written in Doric. "Eirstla. ^id ro xal t« ¦j/ff^ ajt*-
l/,isoc. Au^ih ysffaipOaf, p. 4g. Kust. Ed. This is tiie
clearest comment on tiie words in question, and deter
mines thera to the sense contended for. One would
wonder, indeed, that so learned aCiitic could take Ihem
in any other. But the secret was this, Dr. Bentley having
pretended to discover, that Ocellus Lucanus did. not
write his book in the comraon dialect, as itis noAV extant,
but in Doric; (Dissert. uponPhalar'is, &jC. p. 47.) his
adversaries (Dissert, examined, p. 54.) charge him aa ith
having stolen tiiis discovery from Vizzanius. This,
Dr. Benrtey flatly denies ; (Dissei-t. defended, p. 384.) But

Notes.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 353
But the only proof he gives of his innocence, is, that
the Greek passage, quoted above frora Jambhchus, on
Avhich both he and Jlz.zaniiis had. founded their dis
coveries, is differently translated by them. " The
" tiling, as I said it (says the Doctor) is thus ; tiie
" Pythagoreans enjoined all the Greeks that entered
" themjeives into the society, to use every man his
" mother-tongue (ipwi»w %p5)o-9«j t« ¦nr«7pwa-) Ocellus,
" therefore, being a Dorian of Lucunia, must have
" writ in the Doric. This I took i 0 be JanbHchus's
" meaning. But Vizzanius has represented it "thus:
" that they enjoined all that came to them to use the
" mother-tongue of Crotona, which was the Doric. — ¦
" Whether Vizzanius or I have hit upon the true
" meaning of Jamblichus, perhaps all corapetent
" readers will not be of a mind." The diffidence
of this conclusion would make one suspect the Doctor
was noAv convinced, that Vizzaniuss Ayas the right
meaning. Yet, I will venture to say, that the words
of Jamblichus, as quoted by Vizzatiius Avithout the
context, Avould have been understood by every man,
skilled, as Dr. Bentley Avas, in Greek, in the different
sense he has given to thera. From whence I con-
elude, that, when Dr. Bentiey Avrote his Dissertation
on Phalaris, he had seen the words of Jamblichus no
Avhere but in Vizzanius.
P. 342. [C]. Some have affected not to understand,
Avhere it is, in the foregoing passage, that Zaleucus
inculcates tliis doctrine. The place, methinks, was
not hard to find : it is, where xvtcked men are bid ifo
set before themselves the dree ful hour of death. For
how should a picture of this scene allure men to virtue,
Vol. I. A A ot

354 THE DIVINE LEGATION [Book IL
or deter them from vice, but as it opens to them a view
of those rewards and punishments they are just going
to receive ? Hence, too, Ave learn what those hopes and
fears were, which Plutarch, in the passage p. 346,
says the ancient laxvgivers impressed upon the mmds
of the people, to keep up the awe and reverence of
religion: for Plato assures us it was their general
practice, to inculcate the distinction between soul and
body ; and to teach, that, at their separation, the
soul survived the body ; and this, says he, we should
believe upon their word, unless we Avould be thought
to be out of our senses. — ro-ir£u'£fi/ S' «u jtai to~? NOMO-
©ETOT2I TauO' arto! 'ixi^v, avinp jJ-n woivlaTroitrtv aippovet
(pai'i/Mvlai. De Legg. lib. xi. But, in his next book,
be informs us, more at large, why the ancient Law
givers inculcated lhi>.x, distinction. It was, in order to
build upon it tbe belief of a future state pf rewards
and punishments: for be says, the Lawgivers were to
be believed, when they teach tbe total difference
between soul and body, that the former is immortal,
and that when it is on the point of departing for the
regions of iraraortality (where it raust give an account
of its conduct in the body) the good man will meet
death with courage and constancy, and the evil man
with affright and terror. And then takes occasion
to mention the punishments reserved for the latter :
TO-^rSfa-flai f es-] tu vo[/.o9ery ^piuv rxre aXXa,, km Xiyovli
4'^X^i' a-uf^oc'l®- iTvcct TO w^v ^K!c(psp!sa-xv.~rov Si ovU
^yd 5£bV <£xx^q dwtha^ Sci^oulu },6yov, ico^Uwip o vl},^ ^
^ocrpt©- Xiyu, rZ f.h dyocS^ ^-ocppc^xio,, rZ Si y^oc^Z ^'a»
fo&poi— »T;/*w'T«f0^ ^V y.o,n^, d^c.^%^iru>v iyty,([^ rZ,
{*il»

Notes.] OF MOSES DEMONSTRATED. 355
jnflos rov 'iM^iSz ^lov, De Leg. 1. xii. t. ii. p. 059. a, b. c.
Edit. H. Steph. fol. And here let me observe, that
Plato, in the Avords ri^ ayaSuSap'paAEoi-, &c. seems to
have had 1;he \'ery passage of Zaleucus in his eye, rlh^^sn
¦u^o o[iiJt,a,ruti rov xaipov tStov, iScc. — But this cavil had
been obviated. Section 1. of this Second Book,
pp. 297, 298.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

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