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Title: The works of Richard Hurd, volume 8 (of 8)

Author: Richard Hurd

Release date: January 17, 2023 [eBook #69824]

Language: English

Original publication: United Kingdom: Printed for T. Cadell and W. Davies, 1811

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  THE

  WORKS

  OF

  RICHARD HURD, D.D.

  LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER.

  VOL. VIII.

  Printed by J. Nichols and Son,
  Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.




  THE

  WORKS

  OF

  RICHARD HURD, D.D.

  LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER.

  IN EIGHT VOLUMES.

  VOL. VIII.

  [Illustration]

  LONDON:

  PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND.

  1811.




  THEOLOGICAL WORKS.

  VOL. IV.




  SERMONS ON PUBLIC OCCASIONS.

  CHARGES TO THE CLERGY.

  AND

  AN APPENDIX:

  CONTAINING

  CONTROVERSIAL TRACTS

  ON DIFFERENT SUBJECTS AND OCCASIONS.




CONTENTS

OF

THE EIGHTH VOLUME.


  SERMONS.

  _A Sermon, preached before the House of
  Lords, Dec. 13, 1776; being the Day of
  the General Fast, on account of the American
  Rebellion_                                                        1

  _A Sermon, preached before the Society for
  the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign
  Parts, Feb. 16, 1781_                                            17

  _A Sermon, preached before the House of
  Lords, January 30, 1786; being the Anniversary
  of King Charles’s Martyrdom_                                     35


  CHARGES.

  _A Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of
  Lichfield and Coventry, in 1775 and 1776_                        55

  _A Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of
  Worcester, 1782_                                                 73

  _A Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of
  Worcester, 1785_                                                 87

  _A Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of
  Worcester, 1790_                                                103

  _A Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of
  Worcester, 1796_                                                117

  _A Charge to the Clergy of the Diocese of
  Worcester, 1800_                                                129


  APPENDIX.


  CONTROVERSIAL TRACTS.

  _Remarks on the Rev._ W. WESTON’S _Enquiry
  into the Rejection of the Christian Miracles
  by the Heathens, 1746_                                          145

  _The Opinion of an eminent Lawyer, concerning
  the Right of Appeal from the Vice-Chancellor
  of Cambridge to the Senate, 1751_                               185

  _On the Delicacy of Friendship, 1755_                           255

  _A Letter to the Rev. Dr._ THOMAS LELAND,
  _Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin; on his
  Dissertation on the Principles of Human
  Eloquence, &c. 1764_                                            303




  THREE SERMONS

  PREACHED ON

  PUBLIC OCCASIONS.




  A

  SERMON

  PREACHED BEFORE

  THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

  THE HOUSE OF LORDS,

  IN THE

  ABBEY CHURCH OF WESTMINSTER,

  ON FRIDAY, DECEMBER 13, 1776,

  BEING

  The Day appointed by AUTHORITY for a GENERAL FAST,
  on Account of the AMERICAN REBELLION.


_Die Veneris, 13ᵒ Decembris 14, 1776, Post Meridiem._

ORDERED, by the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, in Parliament assembled,
That the Thanks of this House be, and are hereby, given to the Lord
Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, for the Sermon by him preached before
this House, this day, in the Abbey Church, Westminster; and he is hereby
desired to cause the same to be forthwith printed and published.

                                                       ASHLEY COWPER,
                                                       Cler. Parliamentor.




SERMON, &c.

PSALM CXIX. v. 59.

_I called mine own ways to remembrance: and turned my feet unto thy
testimonies._


The great object of this day’s solemnity, is, _to humble ourselves before
Almighty God, in order to obtain pardon of our sins_. But this end
requires, that we enter into an earnest recollection of our _ways_, and
stedfastly resolve to _forsake_ all those, which we shall find reason to
condemn.

Such is the example set us by the royal author of the text: And, though
it might claim our respect at all times, it especially does so, at this
juncture, when our sins have brought down upon us the heaviest of those
judgments, with which it pleases God to visit, and, if it may be, to
reclaim, offending nations.

And the hand of Heaven is not the less, but the more visible in this
calamity, for it’s befalling us, when the acknowledged power of our
country seemed to secure it against all resistance, both within and
without; and when it was not to be expected, from the usual course of
human affairs, that an attempt of this nature, so unprovoked, at once,
and so hazardous, would be made. Something there must have been, much
amiss in that people, against whom the Almighty permits the sword of
civil fury, under _such_ circumstances, to be drawn.

From what _causes_, and by what _steps_, this portentous mischief hath
grown up to it’s present size and terror, it is not needful, and may not
be proper, for me to say. For which of us is unacquainted with these
things? And how ill suited to the modest piety of this day would be,
the vehement accusation of others, or the sollicitous justification of
ourselves!

Yet, among the various pretences, which have served to pervert the
judgments of many, ONE is so strange, and of so pernicious a tendency,
were it to be generally admitted, that a word or two cannot be
misemployed in the censure of it.

It is in the order of things, that they who, for any purpose, wish to
draw the people into a scheme of resistance to an established government,
should labour to impress them, first of all, with a persuasion of their
being ill governed. Acts of tyranny and oppression are, therefore, sought
out with diligence; and invented, when they cannot be found: And the
credulous multitude have but too easily, at all times, lent an ear to
such charges.

But it is quite new, and beyond measure extravagant, to tell us,
That, although there be no considerable abuse of the government, as
it now stands, we are bound in conscience to resist it, because such
abuse is possible, and because a more desirable form of government
may be conceived. And yet, to the disgrace of an age, calling itself
philosophical, such sophistry has passed, not on the multitude only, but,
as it is said, on wise men.

On the other hand, it would be unjust to say, that speculations on the
nature and end of government are, therefore, useless or even hurtful,
because we see them, in the present instance, so egregiously misapplied.
Theories on government, when framed by sober and thinking men, cannot
but be of great importance, as serving to remind both the governors and
governed of their respective interests and duties; nay, and as tending
ultimately to improve establishments themselves; but by degrees only, and
by constitutional means. Our own excellent establishment has, in this
way, been much improved: And we surely owe our thanks to those theorists,
whose generous labours have contributed to this end.

But to apply these theories, how reasonable soever in themselves,
directly to the correction of established governments, and to insist,
that force may, or should, be called in to realize these visions, is
a sort of fanaticism, which, if suffered to take it’s course, would
introduce the utmost confusion into human affairs; would be constantly
disturbing, and must, in the end, subvert, the best government, that ever
did, or ever can, subsist in the world.

Thus much, then, in reproof of so wild and destructive a principle,
I could not help saying in the entrance of a discourse, which, to
suit the occasion, should have little of altercation and dispute; and
which, agreeably to the text, must turn chiefly on the great duties of
Recollection and Repentance.

But what, you will say, “Is a criminal enterprize, like this, which
occasions our present meeting, to be charged on those only, against
whom it is directed? And must we be the worst of sinners, because there
are those of our fellow-subjects, who have taken up arms against their
Sovereign?”

Far be it from me to affirm either of these things! Yet he was a wise
man, who said, that, _when a man’s ways please the Lord, he maketh even
his enemies to be at peace with him_[1]: And I think it clear from the
tenour of scripture, and even from our own experience, that no national
distress is ever inflicted, before it is deserved.

And the conviction of this sad truth is ground enough for us to turn
ourselves to the great work of Repentance; which does not require us
to form discouraging, or indeed any, comparisons between ourselves and
the enemies we contend with, but to call to mind that we have, indeed,
merited the evil, we suffer, whether brought upon us immediately by
our own sins, or those of other men. A civil war is the most dreadful
of those instruments, by which the moral government of God is
administered in this world. And, _when such a judgement is in the earth_,
be our comparative merits what they may, we shall do well to _learn
righteousness_[2].

But, after all, who, or what are we, that we should talk of _merits_, or
scruple to place this alarming visitation of Heaven to the account of our
sins?—Merciful God! Do thou incline our hearts to follow the example of
thy servant, David, this day, in _calling our own ways to remembrance_,
and we shall presently see what need there is for us to _turn our feet
unto thy testimonies_!

1. To begin from that point, whence all true worth and goodness,
proceeds, I mean, from RELIGION.

There is no people on the face of the earth, more deeply indebted to
Providence for blessings of all sorts, spiritual as well as temporal,
than we of this Christian and Protestant nation. But has our pious
gratitude kept pace with these obligations?

Infinite are the benefits, that descend upon us from our WELL-REFORMED
Religion, and from the watchful care of Heaven in the support and
protection of it. Yet who reflects on these things? Should we so much as
hear a word on the subject, if it did not suit the purpose, sometimes,
of peevish men and parties among us, to revive the memory of it? Have we
even a decent regard for the honour of our great Reformers? And is not
the little zeal, we have left for Protestantism itself, spent in idle
cavils at the stupendous work, atchieved by their hands?

But why speak I of _reformed_ religion? Is there any of us, almost, who
is animated with that zeal for CHRISTIANITY itself, which glowed in the
breasts of our fathers?

Too many proclaim their disbelief of it, nay, their utter contempt of
all that is called Religion; and yet appear to give no offence (where,
methinks, it should be taken) by their manifest, their avowed, their
ostentatious impieties. Is it not even growing into a maxim, in certain
quarters, that Religion, or Irreligion, is a matter of no moment in
the characters of men, and that none, but a bigot, is affected by that
distinction?

It is true, the wiser, and, in every sense of the word, better, part
of the public have an abhorrence of this profligacy. They profess, and
without doubt entertain, a respect for the authority of their divine
religion. Yet who has not observed, that more than a few of these reduce
that authority to just nothing, and, in a sort of philosophical delirium,
are for setting up their Reason, that is, their _own_ authority, in it’s
stead?

Even we, of the Clergy, have we not some need to be put in mind of _doing
our first works_, and of returning to _our first love_[3]? Has not the
contagion of the times sicklied over the complexion of even _our_ zeal
and charity? while we neither repell the enemies of the faith with that
vigour, nor confirm the faithful themselves with that vigilance, which
did so much honour to our predecessors in the sacred ministry.

But to come to plain _practical Religion_, as evidenced in our churches,
and houses, and in the offices of common life.

How few are there, in comparison, who make a conscience of serving
God, either in public, or in private? Is there so much as the air of
piety in numberless families, even on that day, which by God and man
is set apart for the duties of it? Nay, is not that day, I had almost
said, in preference to others, prophaned by every sort of amusement
and dissipation? As if there was a full purpose to shake off even that
small appearance of religion, which the Lord’s day has hitherto, and but
barely, kept up. So little do we retain of that habitual seriousness,
that awful sense of God, and of our dependence upon him, in which the
essence of the religious character consists!

2. And, if such be the state of religion among us, who will wonder, that
the MORAL VIRTUES, which have no firm abode in the Godless mind, are
deserting us so fast? Who can think it strange, that oaths have lost
their power? And that the most solemn engagements, even those contracted
at the altar itself, are falling apace, or rather are _fallen_ with many,
into contempt?

Our _natural_ appetites, indeed, are impatient for their respective
gratifications; and the lower classes of men, uneducated and
undisciplined, are, at all times, too generally enslaved by them. But an
overflow of wealth, and, it’s consequence, ingenious Luxury, has now made
our _fantastic_ wants, as clamorous, as the natural; and the rage, with
which the objects of them, or what we call polite and elegant pleasures
and accommodations, are pursued in the higher ranks of life, discovers
an impotency of mind, equal to that of the lowest vulgar, and more
ruinous in its effects. For, whence is it, else, that bankruptcies are so
frequent? that every species of fraud and rapine is hazarded? that a lust
for gaming is grown epidemical and uncontroulable? that the ruin of noble
and opulent families surprizes nobody? that even suicide is the crime of
almost every day, nay and justified, too, as well as committed?

If horrors, like these, admit of aggravation, it is, that they meet us in
a country, where the religion of Jesus is taught in it’s purity, and, as
yet, is publicly professed; in a country, that wants no means of knowing
it’s duty, and, among it’s other motives to the practice of it, has one,
as rare as it is valuable, I mean, The best example in the highest place.

3. In this relaxed state of _private morals_, it is easy to guess what
must be the tone of our CIVIL or POLITICAL virtues.

Vice is never so shameless, as when it pretends to public spirit. Yet
this effrontery is so common, that it scandalizes nobody. If, indeed,
noise and clamour and violence; if an affected tumour of words, breaking
out in a loud defiance of dignities; if intemperate invectives against
the most respected characters, and a contempt of all that wears the face
of authority among us——were proofs of a just concern for the common weal;
there would be no want of this virtue.

But who sees not, that true patriotism dares not allow itself in
these liberties? that, if, in pursuit of a favourite object, it goes,
occasionally, some lengths, scarce justifiable itself, it never fails,
however, to stop at a certain point, and to respect, at least, the firm
immoveable barriers of the Constitution? But has such been the modesty
of our times? Let every one judge for himself. And, for the rest, I wish
it had not appeared of late, that such a spirit of rapine and corruption
prevails, both at home and abroad, as threatens the subversion of all our
public interests;—a spirit! which neither the vigilance of parliament,
for the severity of public justice, hath been able to controul.

I PASS RAPIDLY over these things, and omit a thousand others, that
might be mentioned, because I would rather suggest matter to your own
reflexions, than enlarge on so unwelcome a subject, myself. Besides,
I know what is commonly thought of such representations. Some will
treat them, as decent words, on this occasion; others, as charges much
aggravated, if not groundless; even, on many well-intentioned men an
old and oft-repeated complaint will make, it is possible, but a slight
impression.

Still, it is _our_ duty to speak plainly, on such a day, as this; and
if we speak truly too, it is very clear what must be the duty of our
_hearers_. Reason stands aghast at the sight of an “unprincipled,
immoral, incorrigible” publick: And the word of God abounds in such
threats and denunciations, as must strike terror into the heart of every
Believer. And, although Repentance may not ensure success in the great
contest, now depending, (for the All-wise Disposer of events may see fit
to decree otherwise); yet the likeliest method we can take to procure
that success will be, by rendering ourselves somewhat less unworthy of
it, than, assuredly, we now are. At all events, an amendment of life will
recommend us to the favour of God, and must therefore be useful, indeed
is the only thing that, in the end, can be truly so, to us.

Let us then (every one for himself) try what Repentance can do, under
this conviction of a too general depravity, and in this hour of national
distress. One natural effect of it will be, A readiness to submit
ourselves to the authority of Government in all those just measures,
which it may see fit to take in the present emergency, and to give the
utmost effect to them by our entire agreement and unanimity.

And would to God, we had always been of this mind!—But, let us, at
length, resolve to be so. Then may we hope, with the divine blessing
(which we have supplicated this day) on his Majesty’s arms and councils,
that this unnatural Rebellion will be soon composed; the just rights of
the nation restored; and a way opened for the re-establishment of _law_
and _order_ in those miserably distracted provinces, which have now
learned, from experience, the just value of both.

To conclude; a pious and Christian use of the present occasion, in
putting up our vows to heaven for the return of the public tranquillity,
and in forsaking, every one of us, the error of our ways, will perfectly
correspond to the views of our most religious and gracious Sovereign;
who, in calling upon us to join with him in this solemn fast, in the
midst of his successes, demonstrates, that his trust is not in his own
strength, but that of the Almighty; that He regards this necessary
chastisement of his undutiful subjects as a matter of the deepest
humiliation; and that Victory itself but redoubles his ardour to procure
for us, and for all his people, the blessings of Peace.




  A

  SERMON

  PREACHED BEFORE

  THE INCORPORATED SOCIETY

  FOR THE

  PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL IN FOREIGN PARTS;

  AT THEIR ANNIVERSARY MEETING

  IN THE PARISH CHURCH OF ST. MARY-LE-BOW,

  ON FRIDAY FEBRUARY 16, 1781.


_At the Anniversary Meeting of the_ Society for the Propagation of the
Gospel in Foreign Parts, _in the_ Vestry-Room _of St._ Mary-le-Bow, _on_
Friday _the_ 16_th Day of_ February, 1781;

AGREED, That the Thanks of the SOCIETY be given to the Right Reverend the
Lord Bishop of _Lichfield_ and _Coventry_, for the Sermon preached by his
Lordship this day before the SOCIETY; and that his Lordship be desired to
deliver a copy of the same to the SOCIETY to be printed.

                                              _William Morice_, Secretary.




SERMON, &c.

HEBREWS, xiii. 8.

_Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever._


These words, if considered with an eye to the preceding verses, may
mean, “That our Lord Jesus Christ is always attentive to the wants and
distresses of his faithful followers, and always at hand to relieve
them:” Or, if we connect them with the verse immediately following, we
may understand them as expressing this proposition, “That the doctrine of
Jesus Christ is always one and the same, independently of the wayward and
changeable fancies of men.” In either way, I say, the words may be taken;
and they do not necessarily imply more than the one or the other of these
two senses, which the context will oblige us to bestow upon them.

But the minds of the Apostles, full of the greatest ideas, and swelling
with the suggestions of the holy Spirit, which, in no scanty measure, was
imparted to them, perpetually overflow, as it were, the subject of their
discourse, and expatiate into other and larger views, than seem necessary
to the completion of the argument, immediately presented to them.

This being the manner of the inspired writers, it can be thought no
forced or violent construction of the text, to take it in the full extent
of the expression; which is so striking and awful, as naturally to turn
our thoughts towards the contemplation of the three following particulars:

First, The ineffable glory of our Lord’s _Person_;

Secondly, The immensity of the scheme of _Redemption through his
blood_[4]; And

Lastly, The unchangeable nature of his _Religion_.

In these several senses, it is truly and emphatically said of Jesus
Christ, That _he is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever_.

I. The transcendent dignity of our blessed Lord’s PERSON is expressed in
these words.

For what less do they imply than a perfect state of being, a proper
eternity of existence? Agreeably to what we read elsewhere, That _he was
in the beginning_[5]—_before all things_[6]—that _he is Alpha and Omega,
the first and the last_[7]—that _his throne is for ever and ever_[8]—and
_his goings forth from everlasting_[9]: Nay, and suitably to the very
turn of phrase, which the Holy Ghost employs in characterizing the
Supreme Majesty of Heaven, _I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the
ending, saith the Lord, which is, and which was, and which is to come,
the Almighty_[10].

When Jesus Christ, therefore, is held out to us in the text, as being
_the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever_, we may be allowed, or rather
we are required, to elevate our thoughts to the utmost, and to conceive
with inexpressible awe and veneration _of that glory which he had with
the Father, before the world was_[11].

II. We are called upon by these words to reflect on the constant, uniform
tenour of that amazing scheme of REDEMPTION, which was planned before
the ages, was unfolded by just degrees, and was finally completed in
_Christ Jesus_; in this sense, likewise, so interesting to us, _the_ SAME
_yesterday, to-day, and for ever_.

_The works of the Lord_, says the Psalmist, _are great, and sought out
of all those that have pleasure therein_[12]. But which of his works is
so stupendous, or carries the enraptured mind to so high an original, as
that which respects the redemption by Christ Jesus? Man was produced in
time, and stationed on this earth at the distance of no more years, than
our chronology easily reckons up. But who can go back to that moment,
when the Godhead sate in council on _the dispensation of Grace_ by the
Gospel? _On the mystery, which from the beginning of the world hath been
hid in God, who created all things by Jesus Christ; to the intent that_,
in the fullness of time, _unto the principalities and powers in heavenly
places might be known by the Church the manifold wisdom of God, according
to the eternal purpose which he purposed in Christ Jesus our Lord_[13]?
Inspired language itself labours, we see, in setting forth the extent of
this dispensation; in declaring to us _what is the breadth, and length,
and depth, and height_ of this scheme of divine wisdom, _through the love
of Christ, which passeth knowledge_[14].

_Known unto God_, indeed, _are_ ALL _his works from the beginning_[15].
But this great work of love seems to have been ever present to him; to
have engaged and occupied, if we may presume so to speak, the constant,
the unremitting, the unwearied attention of the divine mind; and to have
entered into all the counsels of his providence, which he had formed for
the display of his glory, _through all ages, world without end_[16].

Such is the idea which the Scriptures oblige us to entertain of _the
manifold wisdom_ of God in Christ Jesus: _manifold_, as it presents to us
the various evolutions of an eternal and infinitely extended dispensation
of Grace; but _one and the same_, with regard to the end in view, the
redemption of a ruined world, and to the conduct and completion of them
all by the means, and in the person, of the Redeemer.

What parts of this scheme lie out of the verge of our world, and how much
of it hath respected, or may hereafter respect, other and higher natures
by far, than the sons of men, it would be fruitless to inquire, as these
deep things of God have not been distinctly revealed to us. Yet one thing
deserves our notice, That _the Angels themselves[17] desire to look into
this_ scheme of salvation; and are surely some way concerned in it, since
it was designed to comprehend, _and gather together in one, all things
in Christ, both which are in heaven, and which are on earth, even in_
HIM[18].

But conceive of the interest which celestial beings have in Jesus Christ,
as you will; there can be no doubt, that he has been invariably the
end of all God’s revelations to mankind. The history of Redemption is
coæval with that of the Globe itself, has run through every stage of its
existence, and will outlast its utmost duration. The precious hope of a
Redeemer was the support of fallen man; the theme of all the Patriarchs;
the basis of all the Covenants; the boast and exultation of all the
Prophets; and the desire of all nations.

Look round on the shifting scenes of glory, which have been exhibited in
the theatre of this world; and see the success of mighty conquerors, the
policy of states, the destiny of empires, depend on the secret purpose of
God in his son Jesus: before whom all the atchievements and imaginations
of men must bow down, and to whose honour all the mysterious workings
of his providence are now, have hitherto been, and will for ever be,
directed.

Such is the uniform, immutable, everlasting tenour of that dispensation,
we call Christian; the power and wisdom of God in _Jesus Christ, the same
yesterday, to-day, and for ever_. But

III. Lastly, these words express the unchangeable nature and perpetual
obligation of Christianity, considered as a _Law of Religion_, or _Rule
of Life_, as well as a scheme of wisdom and mercy unspeakable for the
redemption of mankind.

Salvation by the blood of Christ was the eternal purpose of God, the
ultimate end of all his counsels. But, for the attainment of it, He chose
to reveal his will gradually by several intermediate and preparatory
communications. Hence the divine Law, though still directed to the same
end, has been diversified, according as the Legislator saw fit, _at
sundry times, and in divers manners, to speak in times past unto the
Fathers by the_ PROPHETS.

But now, at length, _He hath spoken to us by his_ SON; whose word has
become the standing law of mankind; obligatory on all, to whom it is
made known, and unalterable by any authority, or by any change of
circumstances whatsoever. The terms of salvation are irrevocably fixed.
They are proposed to all, and required of all, without distinction
of seasons or persons. The everlasting Gospel is addressed to _all
that dwell on the earth; to every nation and kindred and tongue and
people_[19]. The extent of it is universal; and the obligation so
indispensable, that _if an Angel from Heaven preach any other Gospel than
that we have received_, he is to be rejected by us; nay, an anathema
rests upon him[20]. Since _the sound of the Gospel is gone out into all
the world_[21], we are to listen to no other. Nor is it to be modified to
our expectations or fancies. _We are complete in_ HIM, _which is the head
of all principality and power_[22]; even in JESUS CHRIST, with regard to
the perpetuity and eternity of his Law, as well as in the other senses
before considered, _the_ SAME _yesterday, to-day, and for ever_.

AFTER THIS explanation of the text, every one sees with what force
it applies to the occasion of our present meeting. For surely such a
Religion, as that of Jesus, so divine in its origin, so extensive in its
views, and so permanent in its obligations, deserves to be propagated
through the world; and justifies, or rather demands, the utmost zeal of
its professors to spread it abroad among all nations.

And such is the end of this venerable Society; instituted for the double
purpose of converting the Heathen, who sit in darkness and the shadow
of death, to the blessed hopes of the Gospel; and of keeping up and
promoting in professed Christians that _faith_, which they have already
received, but, through indigence, ignorance, or a vicious life, have
suffered to languish and die away, or have not, at least, cultivated to
any valuable purpose.

And can either of these objects be indifferent to us? Be it but the
_latter_ of the two, it must deeply affect a good and compassionate mind.
Where the want of instruction is extreme in those who bear the name
of Christians, and the means of obtaining it clearly not within their
power, there is no doubt that both benevolence and piety call upon us to
administer what relief we properly can to their pressing necessities.

But the _former_, I suppose, is the main object of the Society: And if,
on this occasion, we may have leave to enlarge our ideas a little, and
to contemplate that object in the extent to which it has been carried by
the zeal not of our’s only, but of other ancient and modern missions, we
shall find it above measure interesting to all true believers in Jesus.

For look on the various wild and uncivilized tribes of men, of whatever
name or colour, which our ambition, or avarice, or curiosity has
discovered, in the new or old world; and say, if the sight of human
nature in such crying distress, in such sordid, disgraceful, and more
than brutal wretchedness, be not enough to make us fly with ardour to
their relief and better accommodation.

To impart some ideas of order and civility to their rude minds, is
an effort of true generosity: But, if we can find means at the same
time, or in consequence of such civility, to infuse a sense of God and
Religion, of the virtues and hopes which spring out of faith in Christ,
and which open a scene of consolation and glory to them, who but must
regard this as an act of the most sublime charity?

Indeed, the difficulties, the dangers, the distresses of all sorts, which
must be encountered by the Christian Missionary, require a more than
ordinary degree of that virtue, and will only be sustained by _him_, whom
a fervent love of Christ and the quickening graces of his Spirit have
anointed, as it were, and consecrated to this arduous service. Then it
is, that we have seen the faithful minister of the word go forth with
the zeal of an Apostle, and the constancy of a Martyr. We have seen him
forsake ease and affluence; a competency at least, and the ordinary
comforts of Society; and, with the Gospel in his hand and his Saviour
in his heart, make his way through burning deserts and the howling
wilderness: braving the rage of climates, and all the inconveniencies
of long and perilous voyages; submitting to the drudgery of learning
barbarous languages, and to the disgust of complying with barbarous
manners; watching the dark suspicions, and exposed to the capricious
fury, of impotent savages; courting their offensive society, adopting
their loathsome customs, and assimilating his very nature, almost, to
their’s; in a word, _enduring all things, becoming all things_, in the
patient hope of finding a way to their good opinion, and of succeeding,
finally, in his unwearied endeavours to make the word of life and
salvation not unacceptable to them.

I confess, when I reflect on all these things, I humble myself before
such heroic virtue; or, rather, I adore the grace of God in Christ Jesus,
which is able to produce such examples of it in our degenerate world.

The power of Religion has, no doubt, appeared in other instances; in
PENANCES, suppose, in PILGRIMAGES, in CRUSADES; and we know in what light
they are now regarded by reasonable and judicious men.

But let not things so dissimilar be compared together, much less
confounded. Uncommanded, useless, sanguinary zeal provokes your contempt
and abhorrence; and with reason: Only remember, for pity’s sake, under
what circumstances of ignorance and barbarity the provocation was given.
But when the duty is clearly enjoined[23] by the Redeemer himself; when
no weapon is employed by the enterprizing adventurer but that of the
Spirit; when the friendliest affections prompt his zeal; and the object
in view is eternal life; when, I say, the authority is unquestionable,
and the means blameless; the motive so pure, and the end so glorious—O!
let not the hard heart of Infidelity prophane such a virtue, as this,
with the disgraceful name of _fanaticism_, or _superstition_.

Nay, Candour, methinks, should be ready to make allowance for some real
defects or miscarriages, which will ever attend the best performances
of mortal men. What though some error in judgment, some impropriety of
conduct, some infirmity of temper, I had almost said, some imbecillity of
understanding, be discernible in the zealous Missionary? Something, nay
much, may be overlooked, where so much is endured for Christ’s sake. It
is enough that the word of the Cross is preached _in simplicity and godly
sincerity_[24]. He, whose _strength is made perfect in weakness_[25],
will provide that even the frailties of his servants contribute, in the
end, to the success of so good a cause, and the display of his own glory.

Thus much I could not help saying on the behalf, and in admiration, of a
CHARITY, which intends so much benefit to the souls of men, which brings
out so many shining virtues in its ministers, and reflects so much honour
on the Christian name. They that feel themselves unworthy to be made the
immediate instruments of carrying on this great work of conversion among
savage tribes and infidel nations, should bless God for the nobler gifts
of zeal, and resolution, and fortitude, which he has bestowed on others;
and should promote it by such means as are in their power, by their
countenance, their liberality, their counsel; by a strenuous endeavour,
in this humbler way, to spread the honour of their Saviour, and the
invaluable blessings of his Religion, to the ends of the world.

Thus shall we make some amends for those multiplied mischiefs, and, I
doubt, injuries, which our insatiable Commerce occasions; and second
the gracious designs of an all-wise Providence, which brings good out
of evil, and turns to his own righteous ends even those VICES which our
boisterous passions produce, and which He sees it not fit, in this our
day of trial, to prevent or restrain.

Lastly, Thus shall we act as becomes the professors of that Religion,
which is divine, universal, perfect; in one word, the gift and the
likeness of HIM, who is THE SAME YESTERDAY, TO-DAY, AND FOR EVER.




  A

  SERMON

  PREACHED BEFORE

  THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

  THE HOUSE OF LORDS,

  IN THE

  ABBEY CHURCH OF WESTMINSTER,

  ON MONDAY, JANUARY 30, 1786,

  BEING

  The Anniversary of KING CHARLES’S MARTYRDOM.


_Die Lunæ, 6ᵒ Februarii, 1786._

ORDERED, by the Lords Spiritual and Temporal in Parliament assembled,
That the Thanks of this House be, and are hereby, given to the Lord
Bishop of Worcester, for the Sermon by him preached before this House, on
Monday last, in the Abbey Church, Westminster; and he is hereby desired
to cause the same to be forthwith printed and published.

                                                       ASHLEY COWPER,
                                                       Cler. Parliamentor.




SERMON, &c.

1 ST. PETER, ii. 16.

_As free, and not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but as
the servants of God._


Christianity, while it provides, chiefly, for the future interests of
men, by no means overlooks their present; but is, indeed, studious to
make its followers as happy in both worlds, as they are capable of being.

As an instance of this beneficent purpose, we may observe, that the
religion of Jesus is most friendly to the CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTIES
of mankind.

There is something in the constitution of our nature, which leads men to
expect, and even claim, as much independence on the will and caprice of
each other, as the ends of society, and the form of government, under
which they live, will permit.

Agreeably to these instincts, or conclusions of reason, call them
which you will, the Gospel, both in its genius and precepts, invites
its professors to the love and cultivation of LIBERTY. It allows the
freedom of private judgment, in which the essence of _religious_ liberty
consists: And it indulges our natural love of _civil_ liberty, not only
by giving an express preference[26] to it, before a state of slavery,
when by just and lawful means we can obtain it; but, also, by erecting
our thoughts, and giving us higher notions of the value and dignity of
human nature (now redeemed by so immense a price, as the blood of the
Lamb of God), and consequently by representing a servile condition as
more degrading and dishonourable to us, than, on the footing of mere
reason, we could have conceived.

But now this great indulgence of Heaven, like every other, is liable to
be misused; and was, in fact, so misused even in the early times, when
this indulgence of the Gospel to the natural feelings of men was, with
the Gospel itself, first notified and declared. For the zealot Jews,
full of theocratic ideas, were forward to conclude, that their Christian
privileges absolved them from obedience to _civil government_: And the
believing Gentiles (who had not the Jewish prejudices to mislead them)
were yet unwilling to think that the Gospel had not, at least, set them
free from _domestic slavery_; which was the too general condition of
those converts in their heathen state.

These notions, as they were not authorized by Christianity (which made
no immediate and direct change in the politic and personal condition of
mankind), so, if they had not been opposed and discountenanced, would
have given great scandal to the ruling powers in every country, where the
Christians resided, and have very much obstructed the propagation of the
Christian faith.

The holy Spirit, therefore, to guard the rising Church from these
mischiefs, saw fit, by the Apostle Peter, to admonish both the Jewish
and Gentile converts to conduct themselves as _free men_ indeed, so far
as they were, or could honestly contrive to become free (for that their
religion no way disallowed); but not as _misusing_ the liberty they
had, or might have (which every principle of their religion, as well
as prudence, forbad). _As free_, says he, _and not using your liberty
for a cloak of maliciousness_: As if he had said, “Be careful to observe
a due mean in this matter: Maintain your just liberties; yet so, as
not to gratify your malignant passions under pretence of discharging
that duty.” And the better to secure the observance of this precept, he
adds—_but as the servants of God_—that is, “Remember ye are so to employ
your liberty as never to forget the service ye owe to God; who, in the
present instance, commands you to _obey Magistrates_; that is, to submit
yourselves to the government, under which ye live, _not only for wrath_,
for fear of punishment, _but for conscience sake_.”

And this caution, so guarded by religious as well as moral
considerations, was the more important, because no word is so fascinating
to the common ear, as that of _Liberty_, while the few only know what it
means; and the many, of all ranks, in all times, mistake it for _licence_.

And well had it been if this warning voice of the holy Apostle, which
sunk deep into the hearts of the first Christians, had continued to make
the same impression on the whole Christian world; which, unhappily, has
contemned, or at least neglected it, in almost all ages; but never more
remarkably, than in those disastrous days, which the present solemnity
calls upon us to recollect and lament.

I. The great quarrel of the times I speak of, was opened with the cry of
RELIGIOUS LIBERTY; not without reason, it must be confessed, yet with an
ill grace in the complainants; who certainly would have denied to others
what they so peremptorily, and indeed with too much petulance, demanded
for themselves.

The source of this evil (to do justice to all sides) is to be sought in
the Reformation itself; which, when it had succeeded in its great view
of cleansing Religion from the corruptions of Popery, concluded that no
man could have reason, thenceforth, to dissent from the national church;
and that an universal conformity to its discipline and doctrine was to
be exacted. The conclusion was natural enough in their situation; and
the benefit of such conformity, past dispute. But it was not considered,
that differences _will_ arise, many times, without reason; and, when they
do, that force is not the proper way to compose them. This oversight
continued long, and had terrible effects. It kept the Protestants of
all denominations from entertaining just ideas of _Toleration_; the
_last_ great point of reformed religion which was clearly understood, and
perhaps the _only_ one of real moment in which the extraordinary persons,
whom Providence raised up to be the conductors of _our_ Reformation, were
deficient.

In this state of things, it unfortunately happened that the Reformation
was suddenly checked by the return of Popery, which forced many pious
and eminent men to take refuge in the Protestant churches abroad; where
they grew enamoured of certain forms of church-government, different from
those that prevailed at home; and which, on their subsequent return, they
fanatically strove to obtrude on their brethren, and to erect, under the
new name of THE DISCIPLINE, on the ruins of the established hierarchy. So
unreasonable a pretension naturally alarmed and exasperated those who had
power in their hands, and had their prejudices too, not less violent than
those by which the _Puritans_ (for that was the name they went by) were
possessed. The consequence was what might be expected. A _toleration_
for their discipline out of the establishment, which was all they should
have aimed at, and to which they had a right, would not have satisfied
them; and their iniquitous claim of _Dominion_ was too naturally repaid
by penal laws and compulsive statutes: that is, one sort of tyranny was
repressed and counteracted by another. And thus matters continued through
several reigns; till some more pressing claims of civil liberty, mixing
with these struggles for church-dominion, overthrew, in the end, the
ancient ecclesiastical government; drove the bishops from their sees,
the liturgy from our churches, and brought in the classical regimen,
enforced, in its turn, as the episcopal one had been, with the rigours of
persecution.

Still, the restless spirit of the times continuing, or rather increasing,
this new model was forced to give may to another, which assumed the more
popular name of _Independency_; under whose broad wing a thousand sects
sprung up, each more extravagant than the other, till, in the end, all
order in religious matters, and religion itself, disappeared, under the
prevailing torrent of fanaticism and confusion.

Such is the brief, but just, account of the religious factions of those
days: from which we collect how miserably the zealots for religious
liberty defeated their own aims; or rather how wickedly they contended
for power and libertinism, under the mask of liberty: An evil, which
could not have happened, had they paid the least regard to the Apostle’s
injunction of _being free, but not as using their liberty for a cloak of
maliciousness_.

II. The claims of CIVIL LIBERTY (which sprung up amid this rage of
religious parties) were better founded; were for a time carried on more
soberly; and, as was fitting, were, at first, attended with better
success.

The mixed form of the English government, originally founded on the
principles of liberty, had, from many concurring causes, degenerated into
a kind of monarchical despotism, which an unquestionably virtuous, but
misinformed and misguided Prince, was for moulding into a regular system.
Happily the growing light and spirit of the times excited a general
impatience of that project; and produced a steady and constitutional
opposition to it. The distresses of government aided the friends of
liberty, who managed their advantage so well as, in process of time, to
support their claims, redress their grievances, establish their rights,
and, in a word, to reduce the Crown, from the exorbitances it affected,
within the ancient and legal boundaries of the Constitution.

This the Patriots of that time effected; with great advantage to their
country, and with singular honour to themselves. Nothing indeed could
have equalled their glory, had their labours in the cause of liberty
stopped there. But, besides that some means employed by them, in the
prosecution of their best-intended services, cannot be justified; the
intention itself of many of them, hitherto so pure, began to grow
corrupt; their fears and passions transported them too far; their public
ends degenerated into selfish: having vindicated the constitution, their
own security, or some worse motive, prompted them to make free with
it, that is, to commit the very fault they had so justly resented at
the hands of their Sovereign: In a word, the patriots, in their turn,
insulted the Crown, and invaded the Constitution.

The particulars are well known. Ambitious leaders arose, or the old
leaders in the popular cause turned ambitious. Unconstitutional claims
were made: unconstitutional schemes were meditated: what before was
self-defence and sober policy, was, now, revenge and hate: the nation
grew delirious, and the civil war followed.

The rest is recorded in the disgusting annals of those times. Six
desolating years brought on the subversion of the monarchy; and (as if
the victors meant to insult the law itself), by I know not what forms
of mock-justice, the bloody scene was wantonly closed with the public
arraignment, trial, condemnation, and execution of the monarch.

The tragedy of this day was the last insolent triumph of pretended
liberty. What followed, was the most avowed tyranny; upheld for a while
by force and great ability, but terminating at length in wild and
powerless anarchy.

Such, again, were the miserable consequences of not observing the
Apostle’s rule of _being free, but not as using liberty for a cloak of
maliciousness_. Freedom was, first, justly sought after, and happily
obtained: It was, then, made the cover of every selfish and malicious
passion, till the wearers of it were enabled to throw it off, as an
useless disguise; when barefaced tyranny and licentious misrule were seen
to emerge from beneath this specious mantle of public liberty.

The RESTORATION, which followed, redeemed these nations from some part of
the miseries, which their madness had brought on themselves. But for the
full establishment of our civil and religious rights, we were finally and
chiefly indebted to the REVOLUTION.

From that memorable æra, we became, in every sense of the word, a free
people. Conscience was secured in the exercise of its just rights by
a legal toleration: and the civil constitution was restored to its
integrity.

III. Such are the observations, which the sad story of the times we have
been reviewing obviously suggests to us. And now let us pause a little:
And having before us what the nation so long suffered, and what it so
late acquired; that is, the horrors of fanatical tyranny on the one hand,
and the blessings of established order and freedom on the other; let us
inquire dispassionately what improvements we have made of both. Have the
black pages of our annals given us a just abhorrence of the principles
and practices, which brought that cloud over them? And have the bright
ones, which so happily at length succeeded, affected our hearts and
lives, as, in all reasonable expectation, they ought? In particular (to
keep the momentous admonition of my text in full view) has the most
perfect LIBERTY, civil and religious, been acknowledged with that
thankfulness it calls for, or been enjoyed with that sobriety which so
inestimable a gift of Heaven should naturally inspire?

1. To begin with RELIGIOUS liberty.

Has this great privilege, so rightfully belonging to us, as men, as
Protestants, and as Christians, which so many ages had panted after,
and the last so happily obtained, Has this invaluable acquisition been
employed by us to the promotion of its proper ends, the cultivation
of just inquiry, and manly piety? On the contrary, has not the right
of private judgment been abused to the worst of purposes; the open
profession of libertinism in principle, and its consequent encouragement
of all corruption in practice? Has not religious liberty been the
_cloak_, under which revealed and even natural religion has been
insulted; infidelity, and even atheism, avowed; and the most flagitious
tenets propagated among the people? In a word, has not every species of
what is called _free-thinking_, _free-speaking_, and _free-writing_, been
carried to an extreme?

But to come to those who are not guilty of these excesses; have _we_
all of us made the proper use of the fostering liberty we enjoy in
religious matters? Have we been careful to apply it to the purpose of
dispassionately studying the sacred scriptures; of investigating their
true sense with a due veneration for the high authority they claim,
and for the awful subjects they set before us; and of maintaining our
conclusions from them with a becoming modesty, which in such inquiries
can hardly be too great? Have we betrayed no symptoms of bigotry even in
disclaiming it? Are we ready to indulge that candour to others, which we
so justly expect ourselves? And is the public wisdom itself treated by
those who speculate, at their ease, under the most tolerant establishment
of Christianity that ever existed, Has it been treated, I do not say,
with a blind submission (God forbid!) but with that decent respect,
which is surely due to it? In short, have we, in our several situations
and characters, been careful to exert the full spirit of Christianity,
which, one is ready to think, should naturally spring up from Christian
liberty; or, at least to observe that temper of mutual forbearance, which
should seem to be an easy as well as reasonable duty, now that all unjust
restraints and provoking severities are withdrawn?

2. Thus much for our religious liberties. Have our CIVIL, on which we
equally, and with good reason, value ourselves, been secured from all
abuse? Have we that reverence of just authority, not only as lodged in
the persons of inferior magistrates, or in the sacred person of the
supreme Magistrate, but as residing in the LAW itself (in which the
public will, that is, the whole collective authority of the State is,
as it were, concentered)—Have we, I say, that ingenuous and submissive
respect for this authority, which not only reason and religion, but
true policy, and every man’s proper interest requires? Our boasted
Constitution itself, now so accurately defined and generally understood,
Does it meet with that awful regard from us, which it justly deserves?
Are we anxious, that, of its several parts, each should have its full
play, without interfering with any other? And are we sufficiently on our
guard against a spirit of innovation, which, after all our experience,
can have no probable view of effecting much good, but may easily do
unforeseen and irreparable mischief? It is true, in the less perfect
forms of government, alterations may not be so sensibly felt. But in
a Polity like our’s, so nicely and artificially adjusted, and, like a
well-constructed arch, held together by the intimate relation and mutual
pressure of its several parts, the removal or even change of any one may
loosen the connexion of the rest, and, by disjointing the whole fabrick,
bring it unexpectedly on our heads.

Let me, then, repeat the question. Have we that religious reverence
for the Constitution which its value, its authority, its compact and
harmonious contexture, so evidently demands? And, when it hath bestowed
upon us the blessings of civil liberty, in as full measure as is perhaps
consistent with government itself, are we only solicitous to preserve
it pure, enjoy it thankfully, and transmit it, unimpaired by hasty and
hazardous experiments, to the generations to come?

If to these, and other questions of the like sort, we can answer to our
satisfaction, it is well. If we cannot, we should lay hold on the present
occasion of recollecting the miscarriages and the miseries of past times,
and of regulating our conduct by the instructive lessons, which they read
to us. We shall see, in every instance I have suggested to you, how the
abuse of religious and civil liberty kept operating in those days, till
it produced the ruin and the loss of both—the _irreparable_ loss, if it
had not pleased a gracious Providence to be much kinder to us than we
deserved, or had reason to expect.

Not to profit by this experience would be inexcusable; especially, when
the date of it is so recent, and when this solemn day of humiliation
(for that purpose kept up by authority) so affectingly reminds us of it.
We cannot, if we reflect on what it sets before us, but see in the most
convincing manner, that, to reap the benefits of the best government, we
must, ourselves, be moderate and wise; and that _to use our liberty for
a cloak of maliciousness_ is, at once, the greatest impiety in those who
profess themselves _the servants of God_, and the greatest folly in those
who are, and would continue to be, a _free_ and happy people.




SIX CHARGES

DELIVERED TO THE CLERGY.




  A

  CHARGE

  DELIVERED TO THE CLERGY

  OF THE

  DIOCESE OF LICHFIELD AND COVENTRY,

  AT THE BISHOP’S PRIMARY VISITATION

  IN 1775 AND 1776.




A CHARGE, &c.


REVEREND BRETHREN,

It having pleased God to call me to the care of this large Diocese, I
thought it became me to take the first opportunity, which the established
course of Visitation afforded, of meeting my brethren, the Clergy: that
so we might be the sooner acquainted with each other; and that, by means
of their prudent advice and information, I might be the better enabled to
sustain the weighty office imposed upon me.

I may, hereafter, as occasion serves, be more _particular_ in my
directions to you. At this time, it will be sufficient to lay before you
some _general_ considerations on our common PASTORAL DUTY, and to animate
myself and you to a faithful discharge of it.

When our blessed Lord and Master sent forth his favoured servants to
labour in that ministry to which he had called them, he addressed them in
these memorable words—_I have chosen and ordained you_, THAT YE SHOULD
GO AND BRING FORTH FRUIT, AND THAT YOUR FRUIT SHOULD REMAIN[27]: “That
ye may go with this commission to plant my doctrine in the world; and
that, by your cultivation of it, it may take such root as to bring forth
a fruitful harvest of believers, and continue to do so through all ages.”

But what, then, is this _mature and perpetual harvest_, which is here
proposed to the Disciples, as the end of their labours? Is it a harvest
of such believers, as shall barely give their name to Christ? Certainly,
not; but of such as shall be found worthy of him. It is a harvest, then,
of _well-informed_, _pious_, and _righteous_, believers. This is the
precious everlasting _fruit_, which it was entrusted to their office to
produce: and this fruit, the due discharge of their office, under the
blessing of God, makes them _capable_ of producing.

In these affecting words, then, of our divine Master (the more affecting,
because among the last that were uttered by him) the _Apostles_, first,
and, after them, _all_ succeeding ministers of the Gospel, are called
upon to bring forth,

1. The fruit of a RIGHT FAITH in their hearers; as resulting from the
soundness of their doctrine. 2. The fruit of PIETY in their flocks; in
consequence of a diligent ministration in all the offices of their sacred
function. And, 3. The fruit of CHARITY in their Christian brethren; as
springing out of their godly exhortations and blameless examples.

Such, my reverend brethren, is the end for which WE are _chosen and
ordained_ to serve in the church of Christ. And though, in setting this
end before you, I shall but reflect your own thoughts: yet, in doing
this, I may be a no unuseful, certainly, no ungrateful, remembrancer;
since it is the duty, the desire, and the glory of us all, that we _bring
forth fruit_, and that _our fruit remain_.

I. The FIRST object of our ministry is, to instruct our hearers in the
RIGHT FAITH: and to this end, we are required to _take heed to our
doctrine_[28].

The Religion of Jesus claiming to be from God, the _doctrines_, it
delivers, are as well to be believed, as its _precepts_ to be observed.
Thus, a _dogmatic theology_ becomes essential to Christianity; its
professors are equally bound by a certain rule of _faith_, and of
_manners_.

When the Scriptures of the New Testament were made public, these were
that Rule of faith to the whole church of Christ. And, if that Church
had _agreed_ in the interpretation of them; or, if peace and charity
could have consisted with its _disagreement_, no other provision for the
maintenance of the faith had been thought needful. But the Scriptures,
like all other writings, being liable to a different construction,
according to the different views and capacities of uninspired men; and
it being presently found that such difference of construction produced
the most violent animosities among Christians, while each sect pretended
a divine authority for its own fancies; no remedy occurred for these
disorders, but that the _catholic_ church should be held together by one
and the same confession, received and acknowledged by all its ministers;
or, when, afterwards, this extensive project was found impracticable,
that those, who agreed in the same interpretation of the sacred oracles,
should be allowed to separate from all others, and unite themselves into
one distinct and _subordinate_ church.

Thus, _Schism_, though it be always an evil, and may be a crime, was
introduced into the church, and was even tolerated there, to prevent
other and greater evils, as well as crimes, from flowing into it. For,
though a diversity of interpretation, in consequence of this liberty,
prevailed in _different_ Christian communities, which yet acknowledged
the same common Rule, _the Scriptures of God_; still, peace was, by
this means, preserved in _each_ particular community; and, by virtue of
that general principle of mutual toleration, which the expedient itself
implied, it was, or might be, in good measure, preserved through _all the
quarters_ of the Catholic church.

This, in one word, is the ORIGIN, and, at the same time, the
JUSTIFICATION, of Creeds and Confessions; which are only a bond of union
between the members of each Christian society. For the purpose of them
is not to set up human decisions against the word of God; but, by larger
comments, and more explicit declarations, in such points of doctrine as
have been differently apprehended, and much controverted, to express and
ascertain the sense, in which THEY interpret that word, who communicate
together in the same Church.

Thus the case stands, before the State gives a preference to any
particular Church. Thenceforth, indeed, the State concurs with the Church
to enforce one common Confession, by confining the emoluments, which it
provides for the encouragement of Religion, to the peculiar doctrines
of the favoured Church. This, the State does, in _equity_ towards that
religious society, with which it is now so closely connected: it does it,
too, in _prudence and good policy_; because it conceives its own true
interests to be concerned in maintaining those peculiar doctrines.

Thus, whether we regard the _Church_, before it acquires the countenance
of the State, as intent on truth and orthodoxy, and only meditating how
best to preserve that truth in the bosom of _peace_; or, whether we
regard the _State_, after it affords that countenance to the Church,
as studious to provide for its own great object, _General Utility_, of
which the preservation of peace makes so considerable a part; either way
we understand why an agreement of opinion is required in the appointed
Guides and Teachers of Religion. But, as such agreement cannot be
expected, or not maintained, where every Teacher is left to inculcate
what doctrines he thinks fit, hence some _common formulary_ of faith
(not in opposition to that delivered in the Scriptures, but by way of
more precise explanation of what is believed to be its true meaning) is
reasonably proposed to the assent of those Guides and Teachers, before
they exercise their office in any particular Christian society; as a
TEST of their opinions; and as a RULE, by which, in subordination to
the general Rule of Christians, they undertake to frame their public
instructions.

This Confession, or formulary of faith, with us, is THE THIRTY-NINE
ARTICLES: to which a subscription is required from every candidate of the
Ministry. So that THE SCRIPTURE, interpreted by _those articles_, is the
proper rule of doctrine, to every Minister of our Church.

It follows from what has been said, that such, as cannot honestly
assent to this formulary, _must_ (if they aspire to be public Teachers
of Religion) unite themselves with some other _consentient_ Church.
This compulsion may, sometimes, be a _hardship_; but can, in no case,
be an injury: or, if some may chuse to consider it in the light of an
_injury_, it is such an one as must be suffered by individuals for the
general good of that Society, to which they belong.

It is nothing, that some object to these articles, as _improper_, or
_ill-drawn_. The Church will judge for itself of these points. Societies
have surely the same right of private judgement as Individuals; and, till
they revoke a constitution, it should, methinks, be presumed that they
see no cause to do it: just as it is very fitly presumed, on the other
hand, that such individuals, as will not subscribe to this constitution,
cannot. But it is forgotten in this dispute, that, although _truth_ can
only be on one side, _good faith_ may be on either.

Still, it may be said—“_These articles are themselves liable to various
interpretations_.” Without doubt, they are: and so would any other,
which could be contrived. Yet, with all the latitude of interpretation
of which they are capable, they still answer, in a good degree, the main
end of their appointment; as may be seen from the animosity expressed by
some against them, as too strict. And, if we only use _that_ latitude,
which the expression fairly admits, and which the Church allows, they
will continue to answer the _great_ end, hitherto effected by them, of
preserving, among the members of our Church, _an unity of the spirit in
the bond of peace_.

Such then is the fruit of a _right faith_, which the ministers of our
Church are required to bring forth, by the _soundness of their doctrine_.

II. They are, in the next place, ordained to produce the fruit of PIETY,
in their several congregations, by a faithful discharge of the sacred
offices, committed to them.

The LITURGY of the Church of England, in which these offices are
contained, is composed with so much wisdom, and is animated, at the time,
with so true a spirit of piety, that impartial men have generally agreed
in the commendation of it. That the _forms_, prescribed by it, may be
lawfully used, few at this time of day will dispute. That _other_ forms,
more complete and perfect, _may_ be devised, _as_ it is not denied by
_us_, who hold those forms, however excellent, to be of human composition
only; _so_, that any such forms of greater perfection are likely to be
devised by those who are the readiest to find fault with our Liturgy,
will hardly be expected by reasonable and knowing men. Much indeed,
abundantly _too_ much, has been said and written on this subject. Most
of the defects, which some have pretended to find in our Ritual, are
purely imaginary: the rest are certainly unimportant. So that our concern
is plainly to submit all deliberations of this sort to the wisdom of
the Church itself; and, in the mean time, to give all the effect, that
depends on _us_, to the ministration which it requires.

And to this end, it must be our duty to perform the sacred offices with
_regularity_, _decency_, and _fervour_.

1. By _regularity_, I mean such an observance of times and seasons,
and of all the modes of performance, as the Church hath thought fit
to prescribe. To this observance we are, indeed, constrained by
ecclesiastical penalties: but I mention it as a fit testimony of respect
to public authority; and as the means of promoting the true interests of
Religion. For what is _punctually_ performed by the Minister will acquire
a due consideration with the people: and the uniformity of _our_ service
will make the attendance on religious offices more acceptable, more
convenient, more edifying to _them_.

2. Nor is it enough that these offices be performed regularly, or
according to stated rules: they must also be performed _decently_, or
with due grace and propriety in the _manner_ of discharging them. For it
is not, perhaps, enough considered, how much a becoming celebration of
the sacred offices contributes to make men delight in them, and profit
by them: or, on the contrary, how much any degree of negligence in the
_posture_, or of impropriety in the _accent_, or indifference in the
_air_, of the officiating Minister, sinks the credit and authority of his
ministration, and deadens the attention and devotion of his flock.

3. Still, this regular and decent discharge of our duty, how useful
soever, is but an _outward_ thing, and may, to a degree at least, be
counterfeited by those who are, otherwise, very unfit to be employed in
this service. To enliven, to animate, to consecrate our ministry, we must
bring to it all the zeal of _internal_ devotion; such as is sober indeed,
but real, active, and habitual; such as flows from a religious temper,
and is wrought into the very frame and constitution of our minds. For to
this end, more especially, are we set apart from secular pursuits, to
give ourselves up to reading, to meditation, to all spiritual exercises;
that so we may be thoroughly penetrated and informed with pure affections
and heavenly dispositions. When these prevail in us, they will naturally
break forth and express themselves in all our ministrations; they will
be seen and felt by all who partake of them, and, by a kind of sympathy,
will force the hearts of others to _consent_ with our own.

III. The _last_ and best fruit we are to produce, is the fruit of
CHARITY, or a good life, in those committed to our charge; which is
more especially cultivated and matured by our _godly exhortations_, and
_blameless examples_.

1. As to our public exhortations, and discourses from the Pulpit, such an
audience as this cannot want to be instructed in the manner of preparing
them. Permit me only to say, “_That your Sermons cannot well be too
plain; and that they ought to be wholly Christian_.”

The word of God is designed for the edification of all sorts and
degrees among us, and should be so dispensed as to reach the hearts
and understandings of all. And I need not say to you who hear me, that
to frame a discourse in this manner, as it is the usefullest way of
preaching, so it will afford full scope and exercise for all the talents
which the ablest of us may possess.

But, further, you will allow me to observe, that the topics and
principles, on which we form our discourses, must be _wholly Christian_.
I do not mean to exclude natural Reason from our public exhortations, but
to employ it in giving force to those best and most efficacious arguments
for a good life, which the Gospel supplies. I would only say, That we are
not to preach morality, in exclusion of Christianity: for that would be
to incur the guilt of _preaching ourselves_, and not _Jesus Christ_.

The various motives to virtue and all goodness, which may be drawn from
the great doctrines of the Christian Revelation, as they are infinitely
more persuasive and affecting than all others; so they should be
constantly and earnestly impressed on our hearers. To live as becometh
the Gospel, is the duty of Christians: and therefore to preach that
Gospel must be the proper duty of Christian Ministers.

For that _other_ requisite of a _good example_, the case is too plain
to require more than one word. Our blessed Master has told us, that we
are _the salt of the earth_: and we remember what he pronounces of that
salt, _when it hath lost its savour_. This warning may suffice to guard
the minister of the word from gross vice and immorality. But much more
is expected from him. He is to _excell_ in all virtue, and in such sort
as to make it amiable in the eyes of men. He is to take care, that even
_his good be not evil-spoken of_, and that _the ministry be not blamed_.
For there are certain decencies, which must be ranked by us in the place
of virtues. To be wanting in _these_, is to scandalize the brethren, and
dishonour ourselves. Our profession is so sacred, that even our Christian
liberty must be abridged on many occasions; and we must deny ourselves an
_innocent_ amusement, when we have reason to conclude that others will
take offence at it.

How far, and in what respects, this sacrifice must be made to the
decencies of our profession, is a matter of great _prudence_ and
_charity_; and can only be determined, in particular cases, by an honest
exertion of those _two principles_.

Ye have now, my reverend Brethren, presented to you a brief sketch of
our ministerial duties. And our encouragement, for the performance of
them, is, That hereby _we shall bring forth fruit_, and that _our fruit
will remain_: that is, we shall be instrumental in producing a RIGHT
FAITH, a PIOUS OBSERVANCE OF RELIGION, and a TRULY CHRISTIAN LIFE, in
our several charges and congregations; and we shall, likewise, be the
means of transmitting these blessings to Posterity, and of perpetuating
these good fruits to the end of the world. Thus, that which is the _end_
of our ministry, is also the reward of it. Nor will the recompence of
our labours end here. In saving others, by the means now recommended,
we shall assuredly save ourselves. For, by giving this full proof of
our ministry, we shall be _sincere, and without offence till the day of
Christ; being filled with all the fruits of righteousness, which are by
Jesus Christ unto the glory and praise of God_[29]. AMEN.




  A

  CHARGE

  TO THE

  CLERGY

  OF THE

  DIOCESE OF WORCESTER,

  DELIVERED AT THE BISHOP’S PRIMARY

  VISITATION IN 1782.




A CHARGE, &c.


REVEREND BRETHREN,

On this first occasion of our meeting, you will think it agreeable to
the relation I have the honour to bear to you, if I take leave to remind
you of such of your Clerical Duties as tend more immediately to your own
credit, and to the good order of this Diocese: Not, as if I suspected you
of being, in any peculiar degree, deficient in them; but as, from the
general state of the _present_ times, and from the singular importance of
them at _all_ times, these Duties deserve to be frequently and earnestly
recommended to you.

The Clergy of the Reformed Church of England have always distinguished
themselves by the soundness of their learning, by the integrity of
their manners, and by a diligent discharge of the pastoral office. But
these virtues could not have flourished so much and so long, had it not
been for the PERSONAL RESIDENCE of the Clergy. Hence that leisure which
enabled them to excell in the best literature: hence those truly clerical
manners, unadulterated by too free a commerce with the world: and hence
that punctuality in performing the sacred offices, so edifying to the
people, and, from their being always upon the spot, so easy to themselves.

Now this Residence, which the very institution of Parishes supposes,
and the Common Law intends, has, from early times, been bound upon us
by ecclesiastical canons, and, from the Reformation, also by express
Statute. So that, in the style of Law, and even in common language,
_Incumbent_ is the proper name of every Parochial Minister.

I know, indeed, what exceptions there are to the Statute, and needs must
be in a Constitution like our’s, founded on a principle of Imparity
and Subordination. I know, too, how many more exceptions must be made
on account of the poverty of very many Cures, and the necessity there
unfortunately is of having several churches served by the same person.
Lastly, I do not forget that, in the case of ill health, and doubtless
in other cases that may occur, there will sometimes be good reason for
the Incumbent to desire, and therefore for the Ordinary to grant, an
occasional suspension, or relaxation, at least, of the general Rule. But,
when these cases are allowed for, no Clergyman, who considers the nature
of his office, and the engagements he is under, or who respects as he
ought, either the esteem of others, or the satisfaction of his own mind,
will suffer himself to solicit, or even to accept, an exemption from
Residence.

And even they, who have to plead the privilege of the Statute, or
can alledge any other just and reasonable excuse, will endeavour to
compensate for their absence, _by_ occasional visits to their benefices;
_by_ diligent inquiries into the conduct of their assistants; _by_
acts of benevolence, hospitality, and piety; in short, _by_ such
means as testify a readiness to do all the good they can under their
circumstances, and manifest a serious consideration of the duties which,
in some degree or other, are inseparable from the Pastoral Care.

In short, the reason of the thing speaks so strongly for the incumbency
of Parochial Ministers, that they, who have the best excuse to make for
themselves, will lament their absence, and accept the leave granted to
them with regret. And the rest of the Clergy will not allow themselves to
desert their charge, and forfeit the dignity and almost the use of their
destination, for such slight and frivolous reasons as can neither satisfy
themselves nor others: for the convenience, suppose, of living in a
better air or neighbourhood; of seeing a little more, or, what is called,
_better_, company; or sharing in the advantages and amusements, be they
ever so innocent, of the larger and more populous towns.

Pretences of this sort are nothing, when they come in competition _with_
the decency and utility of being where we ought to be, and among those
whom we ought to serve; _with_ the obligation that lies upon us to
make ourselves acquainted with the spiritual and temporal wants of our
people, and, as far as we can, to relieve them; _with_ the precious
opportunities, which a personal residence affords, of knowing their
characters, and of suiting our publick and private applications to them;
_of_ watching over their lives, and contributing to reform or improve
them; _of_ guarding them against the attempts of those who lie in wait
to pervert their minds, and indispose them to our Communion; _with_ the
heart-felt satisfaction of being beloved by our flocks, or of meriting,
at least, to be so; of knowing, in short, that we discharge our duty
towards them; and, while we approve ourselves faithful ministers of the
Church in which we serve, are promoting the noblest ends which a mortal
can propose to himself, The salvation of souls, and the honour and
interest of our divine Religion.

These considerations are so animating, that they cannot but make a deep
impression upon every serious mind; and are so obvious at the same time,
that just to have mentioned them to you must be quite sufficient.

I return, therefore, to the duty of those who, on several accounts, may
very reasonably excuse themselves from a constant personal residence. And
with regard to such of you as may be in this situation, I must,

II. In the second place, recommend it to you, in most particular manner,
that you be careful in looking out for proper persons to supply your
place, and that you faithfully co-operate with me in appointing none but
_regular_, _well-qualified_, and _exemplary Curates_.

By REGULAR Curates, I mean such as lie under no legal disabilities, and
have received episcopal ordination. You will perhaps think it strange
that these cautions should be thought necessary. But in our licentious
times there are those who will presume to offer themselves to you to be
employed as Curates, although they have incurred the public censure of
their superiors, or have not perhaps been admitted into holy Orders.
You will be careful, therefore, before you allow any one to officiate
for you, though for a short time, and on a pressing occasion, to inform
yourself of his general character, and to inspect his Letters of Orders.

But, if you mean to take him for your settled Curate, you must do a
great deal more. You must send him with a _Title_ and _Testimonial_ to
be examined and allowed by me. And then I shall have it in my power,
not only to prevent your being imposed upon by _irregular_ persons,
but to see that you take for your assistants only such as are in all
respects WELL QUALIFIED: including under this term _a competent degree of
knowledge for the service of the Cure to which they are nominated; a good
report of their moral and religious conduct by credible and respectable
witnesses; and a willing conformity to the discipline and doctrine of the
Church of England_.

With these qualifications, it is to be presumed that your Curates will
represent you not unworthily, and will instruct and edify your people
as you yourselves would endeavour to do, if you lived amongst them. And
the rather, as both you and I are concerned _to take care, as much as
possible, that whosoever is admitted to serve any Cure_ DO RESIDE IN THE
PARISH WHERE HE IS TO SERVE: _especially in livings that are able to
support a resident Curate; and, where that cannot be done, that he do
reside at least_ SO NEAR TO THE PLACE, _that he may conveniently perform
all the duties both in the Church and Parish_[30].

Still, it is not enough that an officiating Minister, whether principal
or substitute, be of no ill fame, and under no disability, nay that he
possess the _qualifications_ and the _means_ of discharging his duty.
It is further expected of all who are commissioned to minister in holy
things, and therefore of Curates as well as others, that they execute
their important trusts with fidelity and zeal, that they be EXEMPLARY in
their whole conduct and conversation.

To merit the application of this term to himself, a Clergyman will not
only perform the duties of his Church with becoming seriousness, and
with exact punctuality, but he will be ready at fit seasons to advise
or exhort, to comfort or rebuke, as occasion requires, such of his
parishioners, whether in sickness or health, as may stand in need of his
charitable assistance. He will spend much of his leisure in reading and
meditation, particularly in the study of the sacred Scriptures, that he
may adorn and purify his mind, and qualify himself the better for his
spiritual ministrations. He will even take care that his very amusements
be inoffensive, and not pursued with an eagerness or constancy that may
give occasion for censure or misconstruction. He will be so far from
drawing upon himself the imputation of any gross vice (which it would
be dreadful for a minister of the Gospel to deserve), that he will not
be suspected of levity or dissipation; _but_, as the Canon directs,
_will always be doing the things which shall appertain to honesty, and
endeavouring to profit the Church of God; having always in mind that the
ministers of religion ought to excell all others in purity of life, and
should be examples to the people of good and Christian living_[31].

Such is the conduct which the Church requires of those whom you employ in
the care of your parishes. I hope therefore I shall not be thought too
severe, if I give a particular attention to the appointing and licensing
of Curates, and if I expect of the beneficed Clergy that they chearfully
and heartily concur with me in this necessary circumspection.

To this end, and that the Church may be served with reputable and useful
ministers, I must,

III. Further make it my earnest request (and this is the _last_
particular I have at present to give in charge to you), that you take
especial care _what persons you recommend to me on all occasions_.

It is my duty, and if it were not, it would be my inclination, to rely
much on your advice in all things; much more, to lay the greatest stress
on your opinion and sentiments, when presented to me under your hands in
the solemn way of a Testimonial. No consideration, therefore, I hope will
ever prevail with you, no bias of acquaintance, neighbourhood, civility,
or compassion (for I shall never suspect my brethren of any worse
motive), to give the credit of your testimony to any person whatever that
is unworthy of it, whether for the purpose of obtaining holy Orders, or
my License to a Cure, or Institution to a Benefice. The most scrupulous
good faith must be observed in all these cases; or it will be impossible
for me to prevent those scandals, which an unqualified Clergy will be
sure to give to the world, and the infinite mischiefs they do to Religion.

Whenever you set your hand to a testimonial, consider, I beseech you,
that the honour of the Church is concerned in what you are doing; that
the edification of the people, the integrity of their lives and purity
of their faith, the salvation, in short, of their souls, depends on
your signature. When such momentous interests as these are at stake,
inattention is something worse than _neglect_, and the easiness of
good-nature the greatest _cruelty_.

And now, my reverend brethren, by observing these few plain directions—by
residing on your benefices when you can, and by improving that residence
to its proper uses—or, when you cannot reside yourselves, by employing
only resident and respectable Curates—and, lastly, by a scrupulous use
of your credit with me in recommending none but fit persons for the
several departments of the Ministry.—By complying, I say, with my earnest
request, in these several instances, you will render the government of
this Diocese easy and pleasant to me. I reckon so much on your kindness
to me as to believe that _this_ consideration will be some inducement to
you. But there are _others_ of more importance. For you will consult your
_own_ honour, and that of your _Order_: You will rejoice the hearts of
your _friends_, and stop the mouths of your _enemies_.

I said, _of your enemies_; for enemies you will always have, so long as
there are bad men. And, while we endeavour to lessen the number of these,
it should be our utmost care that none but _such_ be ill-affected towards
us. God forbid that the friends of virtue and religion should have so
much as a pretence to speak or think ill of us! They cannot have this
pretence, but through our own fault. Be we therefore strictly observant
of our duty: Let us be seen, where the world will naturally look for us,
in our proper places, intent on our proper business; and acting in our
proper characters; and we shall infallibly secure the esteem of _good_
men, and till it please God to touch and convert their hearts, we may
defy the malice of _bad_ ones.

The truth is, my reverend brethren, it depends very much on ourselves,
whether the world shall conceive well or ill of us. Licentious and
unbelieving as that world is, a learned and prudent and pious Clergyman
will force respect from it. The more it may be inclined to blame, the
greater must be our diligence and circumspection. And to animate myself
and you to this care, is the whole end and purpose of this friendly
address to you.

It only remains that _I pray_, with the holy Apostle, _that we may abound
in knowledge and in all judgment; that we may approve things that are
excellent; that we may be sincere and without offence till the day of
Christ; being filled with the fruits of righteousness, which are by Him
to the glory and praise of God_[32].

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the
fellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with us all evermore. Amen.




  _The Use and Abuse of Reason in Matters
  of Religion_:

  A

  CHARGE

  OF THE

  BISHOP OF WORCESTER

  TO THE

  CLERGY OF HIS DIOCESE.

  DELIVERED IN THE YEAR 1785.




A CHARGE, &c.


REVEREND BRETHREN,

Without the use of Reason in Religion, we are liable to be imposed upon
by others. With the immoderate or indiscreet use of it, we impose upon
ourselves. Both extremes are to be carefully avoided: but the _latter_,
being that into which we are most in danger of falling in these times,
will possibly deserve your first and principal attention.

Indeed the great Apostle of the Gentiles, foreseeing the mischiefs which
the pride of human reason would produce in the Church of Christ, gave
a timely warning to the Roman converts, _not to be wise in their own
conceits_[33]. And whoever considers the history of the Church from that
time to this, will find that nothing has been so injurious to it as the
affectation of being wise _above_, or _beside_, what is written; I mean,
in opposing our own sense of things to the authority of Scripture, or
(which is the commoner, because something the modester way of the two)
in forcing it out of the sacred text by a licentious interpretation. In
either way, we idolize our own understandings; and are guilty of great
irreverence towards the word of God.

It infinitely concerns the preachers of the Gospel to stand clear of
these imputations; and therefore it may not be unsuitable to the occasion
of our present meeting, if I set before you what I take to be the whole
office of REASON on the subject of revealed Religion; what it has to do,
and what it should forbear to attempt; how far it may and should go, and
where it ought to stop; and lastly, how important it is for a Christian
teacher, and indeed for every Christian man, to confine his curiosity
within those bounds.

I. The first and principal office of Reason on this subject is to see
whether Christianity be a divine Religion; in other words, whether the
Scriptures, especially those of the New Testament, which contain the
religion of Christians, be written by inspiration, or have no higher
authority than the compositions of mere fallible men.

Now, for this purpose, you will collect and examine the numerous proofs,
_external_ and _internal_, which have been alledged as the proper grounds
of assent to the truth of Christianity: The proof EXTERNAL; first, from
_Prophecy_, involving in it an incredible number of probabilities,
some less striking than others, but all of them of some moment in your
deliberation; secondly, from _Miracles_, said to have been purposely
wrought to attest the truth of Christianity; recorded by persons of the
best character, who themselves performed there miracles, or saw them
performed, or had received the accounts of them immediately from the
workers and eye-witnesses of them; and not questioned, as far as we know,
by any persons of that time, or for some ages afterwards. In the next
place, you will consider the INTERNAL PROOF, from the history and genius,
from the claims and views and pretensions of this Religion.

Under this _last_ head, you will particularly attend to the promises said
to have been made by Jesus to his disciples; and to the manner in which
those promises appear to have been made good: the promise of inspiration
to the Apostles, and the evidence they afterwards gave of their being
actually so inspired.

Above all, you will carefully inspect those books which contain the
account of these and other momentous things, as well as the doctrines of
Christianity itself; and you will see whether the _facts_ they relate
be, any of them, contradicted by authentick history, or the _doctrines_
they deliver be repugnant to the first and clearest principles of human
knowledge. You will next inquire whether these books, containing nothing
but what is credibly or supposeably true, were indeed written by the
persons whose names they bear, and not by persons of later times, or by
persons of that time, whose authority is more questionable. You will,
further, consider what _degree_ of inspiration these writings claim
to themselves, and whether their claims have, in any instance, been
discredited and confuted. You will, lastly, take into your account the
_event_ of things, and will reflect how far the success of so great
an undertaking has corresponded to the supposition of its having been
divinely directed; if, in short, you can any way account for what you
know and see to be clear and evident _fact_ on any other supposition.

Such, I think, is the outline of what must be thought the duty of a
reasonable inquirer into the pretensions of Christianity. To fill up
this sketch would require a volume: but you see from these hints that
here is room enough for the exercise of the understanding, for the full
display, indeed, of its best faculties. If Christianity, which invites,
will stand the test of this inquiry, you cannot complain that Reason has
not enough to do, or that your reception of it, as a divine revelation,
is not founded on reason. Only, let me caution you against coming hastily
to a conclusion from a slight or summary view of the particulars here
mentioned. You must have the patience to evolve them all; to weigh the
moment of each taken separately, and to decide at length on the united
force of these arguments, when brought to bear on the _single_ point to
which you apply them, the DIVINE AUTHORITY of your religion.

To grasp all these considerations in one view will require the utmost
effort of the strongest mind: And, when you have done this, you will
remember that very much (so widely extended and so numerous are the
presumptions on this subject) has probably, nay, has certainly, escaped
your best attention.

However, on these grounds, I will now suppose that a serious man, who
would be, and is qualified to be, a believer on conviction, has fully
satisfied himself that Christianity is true, and that the Scriptures, in
which the whole of that religion is contained, are of divine authority.

II. A second and very momentous use of Reason will then be, To scrutinize
these Scriptures themselves, now admitted to be divine; that is, to
investigate their true sense and meaning. For, whatever their authority
be, as they were written for the use of men, they must be studied, and
can only be understood, as other writings are, by applying to them the
usual and approved rules of human criticism.

I have already supposed, that you have seen enough of these Scriptures to
be satisfied of their containing no contradictions to the clear intuitive
principles of human knowledge. For this satisfaction must precede the
general conclusion, that the Scriptures are divinely revealed; all truth
being consistent with itself, and it being impossible that any evidence
for the truth of revelation should be stronger than that of Intuition.
Still, it remains to inquire of doctrines taught in these books, and
apparently, as to the general sense of them, not inadmissible, what is
their precise and accurate interpretation.

And here, besides the use of languages, antiquities, history, and such
other helps as are necessary to the right understanding of all ancient
books, you will have ample scope for the exercise of your sagacity in
studying the character of the sacred writers, the genius and views of
each, with the peculiarities of their style and method; in tracing
the connexion of their ideas, the pertinence and coherence of their
reasonings; in comparing the same writer with himself, or different
writers with each other; in explaining the briefer and darker passages
by what is delivered more at large and more perspicuously elsewhere; in
apprehending the harmony of their general scheme, and the consistency of
what they teach on any particular subject.

In all these ways, and if there be any other, your Reason may be and
should be employed with all the attention of which ye are capable. And
when this task is now performed, and you have settled it in your own
minds what the true genuine doctrines of Christianity are; what our
religion teaches of divine things, and what it prescribes to us in moral
matters; What more remains to be done? Clearly, but this—To BELIEVE, AND
TO LIVE, according to its direction.

But, instead of acquiescing in this natural and just conclusion, the
curiosity of the human mind is ready to engage us in new and endless
labours. “_The wise in their own conceits_ will examine this Religion,
and see if it be REASONABLE: for surely nothing can proceed from Heaven
but the purest and brightest reason.”

Here, _first_, they perplex themselves and others, by the use of an
ambiguous term: for, by _reasonable_ is meant, either what is _not
contrary_ to the clearest principles of reason, or what is _clearly
explicable_, in all respects, by those principles. In the _former_ sense,
it must be maintained that Christianity is a _reasonable_ Religion, and
that no such contrariety to reason is to be found in it. In the _latter_
sense, it may be true that Christianity is _not reasonable_, I mean,
that the reasons on which it is founded are not always apparent to us:
but then this sense of the word is not pertinent to the case in hand;
and we may as well pretend that the constitution of the natural world is
_unreasonable_, as that the system of Revelation is so, because we are
in the same ignorance, for the most part, of the grounds and reasons on
which either fabrick is erected.

In the _next_ place, supposing that, by intense pains, and a greater
sagacity than ordinary, we are enabled to see, or guess at least, in some
instances, on what principles of reason the great scheme of revelation
or some of its doctrines at least are founded, what do we get by the
discovery? Only, the addition of a little speculative knowledge, which
does not make us at all _wiser_ to salvation, than we were before, and
possibly not _so wise_; since _knowledge_, we know, _puffeth up_, and
_God giveth grace to the humble_.

But, _lastly_, how do we arrive at this supposed pre-eminence of wisdom?
Generally, by forcing the word of God to speak _our_ sense of it, and not
his; by taking advantage of some difficult texts, and by wresting many
plain ones; by making every thing bend, in short, to our presumptuous
fancies and preconceived opinions.

You see, then, what my meaning is—“That the EVIDENCE of Christianity, and
not its _rationale_ (which, however justly conceived and ably executed,
cannot extend so far as curious men require, because Reason itself is so
limited); I say then that the _evidence_ of our religion is the proper
object of inquiry;” and “that the _Scriptures_ are to be admitted in that
sense which they obviously bear, on a fair unforced construction of them,
although that sense appear strange to us, or be, perhaps, inexplicable;”
in a word, that the AUTHORITY and RIGHT INTERPRETATION of Scripture
are what we ought to look after, and not the REASONABLENESS of what it
teaches.

THE TRUTH is (for I would now, in conclusion, point out to you the
mischievous _effects_ of this curious theology, which has so much engaged
the minds of Christians), the truth, I say, is, That we know not what we
do, when we take heaven, as it were, to task, and examine a confessedly
divine Revelation by the twilight of our Reason.

1. One effect is (and can there be a more dreadful one?) that this
inquisitive humour, thus leads directly to _Infidelity_, and even
_Atheism_. For _the wise in their own conceits_, not being able to clear
up many parts of the divine dispensations, whether of nature or grace,
to their satisfaction, hastily conclude that there _is_ no fitness
or wisdom, where they _see_ none, and make their inapprehension an
argument for their rejection of both. A perverse conduct, indeed! but so
common, that I doubt whether there be any _other_ so fruitful source of
irreligion. But

2. When the mischief does not proceed to this extreme, still it is no
small evil, that heresies arise, and must for ever arise, among believers
themselves, from this way of subjecting the word of God to the scrutiny
of our reason. For this faculty, being a different thing, under the same
name, in every pretender to it, and, in its most improved state, being
naturally incapable, where the revelation itself is silent or obscure,
of deciding on what is fit and right in the divine counsels, must needs
lead to as many different views and conclusions, as there are capacities
and fancies of curious men. And, as every man’s reason is infallible to
himself, because his _own_ reason, his zeal in the propagation of what
he calls _truth_, will keep pace with his presumption, till all is noise
and dissonance and discord; till peace and charity forsake the world;
till Religion herself disappears; and what is left to usurp her name and
place is only an art, or rather a fit, of disputation. Then consider

3. How immense a sacrifice we make to the indulgence of a wanton
curiosity. The Gospel was given to fix our faith and regulate our
practice; to purify our hearts and lives, and to _fill us with all joy
and peace in believing_. Instead of these substantial fruits, we reap I
know not what phantom of self-applause for our ingenious speculations:
we lose our precious time in reasoning, when we should act, and hardly
ever come to an end of our reasonings: we grope on in these dark and
intricate paths of inquiry, without ever attaining the heart-felt joy of
conviction: we are so intent on _trying_ all things, that we _hold fast_
nothing: we spend a great part of our lives, some of us our whole lives,
in suspense and doubt: and are so long examining what our _faith_ is,
and whether it be reasonable or no, that, with a divine directory in our
hands, we drop into our graves before we come to a resolution of those
questions.

These are the sad effects of this intemperate wisdom, which therefore we
shall do well to exchange for a little modest piety. And such has been
uniformly the advice of the ablest and wisest men, from the foundation
of Christianity down to this day. It would be endless to refer you to
particular instances in their writings. Their sentiments on this subject
are concisely and forcibly expressed in the following passage of as
great a master of reason as hath appeared in the Christian world since
the revival of letters, which I will therefore leave with you, and would
recommend to your most attentive consideration.

“Rationibus humanis scrutari divinæ naturæ (and what he observes of the
_divine nature_, is equally true of the divine councils) cognitionem,
temeritas est: loqui de his, quæ nullis verbis explicari queunt, dementis
est: definire, impietas est.” And again—“Satis est ad consequendam
salutem æternam, ea de Deo credere, quæ palam ipse de se prodidit
in sacris literis, per selectos ad hoc viros, spiritu suo afflatos;
quæque post versans in terris ipse discipulis aperuit: ac demum per
spiritum sanctum iisdem in hoc selectis discipulis patefacere dignatus
est. Hæc simplici fide tenere, Christiana philosophia est: hæc puro
corde venerari, vera Religio est: per hæc tendere ad cœlestis vitæ
meditationem, pietas est: in his perseverare, victoria est: per hæc
vicisse, summa fœlicitatis est. Cæterum HOMINEM ULTRA HÆC HUMANIS
RATIONIBUS DE REBUS DIVINIS VESTIGARE, PERICULOSÆ CUJUSDAM ATQUE IMPIÆ
AUDACIÆ EST[34].”




  A

  CHARGE

  OF THE

  BISHOP OF WORCESTER

  TO THE

  CLERGY OF HIS DIOCESE.

  DELIVERED IN THE YEAR 1790.




A CHARGE, &c.


REVEREND BRETHREN,

It has been observed, that men of sense and parts are not always on the
side of Christianity: And it is asked, how the unbelief of such men can
consist with the honour of that Religion?

We find this topic insisted upon, or insinuated at least, with much
complacency, in all the free writings of these times. And some of them,
however offensive for their impiety, being composed with vivacity, and
delivered in a popular style, gain more credit with unwary readers than
they deserve.

It behoves us to be on our guard against those insinuations, and to
prevent their having an effect upon others. It will not therefore be
unsuitable to the design of our meeting, if I suggest to the younger
part of you (for the elder and more experienced have no need of my
instruction), if I expose in few words the _folly_ of inferring the
falshood of religion from the rejection of it by a few plausible or
learned men. And to give what I have to say the greater weight with
you, I shall deliver my sentiments on the subject in a short comment
on a remarkable text of St. Paul; who has indeed long ago obviated
this prejudice, and fully accounted for the supposed _fact_, without
derogating in any degree from the honour of our divine Religion.

For no sooner was Christianity published to the world, than it was
opposed by all the wisdom of that age, which was, in truth, distinguished
by its wisdom. But then it was _human_ wisdom only, confiding in itself,
and wholly unacquainted with _divine_ wisdom. These were often at
variance, and sometimes irreconcileable with each other. No wonder then,
that _not many wise men after the flesh_, as the Apostle expresseth it,
_were called_, i. e. converted to Christianity, and that the wisdom of
Revelation was deemed _folly_ (as it is in our days, and as it always
will be) by the idolaters of their own _carnal_ wisdom.

This early and popular prejudice, therefore, against the religion of
Jesus, the great Apostle of the Gentiles found it expedient to remove.
And he does it effectually in that oracular sentence delivered by him in
the first Epistle to the Corinthians, in these words;

“_The natural man receiveth not the things of the spirit of God; for they
are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them; because they are
spiritually discerned[35]._”

The meaning of the words is clearly this: “That no man can, by the force
of his natural understanding, however improved, discover the doctrines of
the Gospel; nor even relish them, when they are proposed to him, so long
as he judges of them by the light of his reason only: and that upon this
account, _because_ those doctrines are solely derived from the wisdom of
God, which is superior to our wisdom; and will even seem _foolishness_ to
such a man, _because_ those doctrines are not such as his natural reason,
or wisdom, would suggest to him.”

The text therefore, you see, consists of two distinct _affirmations_,
with a _reason_ assigned for each. 1. That the natural man receiveth not
the things of the spirit of God, _for_ they are foolishness unto him: and
2. that he cannot know them, _because_ they are spiritually discerned.

I begin with the _last_ of these assertions. I. That the natural man
cannot _know_, i. e. discover, the doctrines of the Gospel, is so clear,
that this assertion hardly requires any proof; or, if it do, the reason
given in the text is decisive—_because they are spiritually discerned_—i.
e. because the knowledge of them is derived from the spirit of God. For,
how can man’s understanding penetrate the secrets of divine counsels?
Or, as the Apostle himself manages the argument much better, _What man
knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him? Even
so, the things of God knoweth no man, but the spirit of God._

II. His other assertion—_That the natural man receiveth not the things
of God_, i. e. is indisposed to receive them—is more interesting to us,
and will require a larger illustration. His reason for this assertion is,
_For they are foolishness unto him_. The reason is very general, and
therefore obscure: for you ask how or whence is it, _that those things
are foolishness unto him_?

I answer then, 1. because, _he could not discover them_. It is argument
enough, many times, with the natural man, to reject any doctrine, which
his own sagacity was unable to find out. For, taking for granted the
all-sufficiency of human reason, and that what is knowable of divine
things is within the reach of his own faculties, he concludes at once
that such doctrines as he could not have discovered are therefore false.
If it be only in matters of human science, a discovery, which very
much transcends the abilities of common inquirers, is for that reason
ill-received and slighted by many persons. Much more may we suppose this
prejudice to be entertained against discoveries which no human abilities
whatever could possibly have made.

But 2. a further reason why such things are thought _foolish_ by the
natural man is, because they are widely different from his notions and
apprehensions. He was not only unable to _invent_ them himself; but,
when proposed to him, he cannot see how they should merit his regard,
being so little suited, as they are, to the previous conclusions of his
own understanding. Now this prejudice is of great extent; and is almost
natural to the pride of human reason.

For, supposing a divine Revelation to be given at all, men form to
themselves certain notions of what it must needs be; and finding that it
does not correspond to those notions, _they receive it not_, i. e. they
conclude it to be unreasonable.

Thus, _one_ man imagines that the Gospel could be only a republication
of the law of nature. He finds it is much more; and therefore, without
further search, infers its falshood. _Another_ man admits that the Gospel
might be an extraordinary scheme for the advancement of human virtue and
happiness: but then he presumes that these ends could only, or would
best, be answered by a complete system of moral truths, and by making the
future happiness of man depend upon moral practice only. He understands
that the Gospel proposes to reform mankind by _faith_, and holds out
its rewards only to such as are actuated by that principle. He rejects
then a scheme of religion which so little accords to his expectations. A
_third_ person allows that _faith_ may be the proper object of reward,
but a faith in _God_ only: to his surprize he perceives that this faith
is required to be in Jesus, the son of God indeed, but the son of man
too, and in him _crucified_; that the Gospel supposes mankind to have
been under the curse of mortality, and to be redeemed from it only in
virtue of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. This strange dispensation is
nothing like that which he should have planned himself: it is therefore
disbelieved by him.

Thus it appears how the _natural man_ is disposed to think unfavourably
of the Gospel, because its doctrines are not such as he should previously
have expected. But another and more fatal prejudice misleads him. For

3. The things of the spirit seem _foolishness_ to the natural man,
because on the strictest inquiry he cannot perhaps find out the reasons
of them; and must admit them, many times, upon trust, as we say, or,
in the language of Scripture, on a principle of _faith_ only. This
experienced inability to search the deep things of God hurts his pride
most of all. That the divine counsels are _beyond_ his discovery, may
be true; that they should be _besides_ his first hasty expectations,
may be digested: but that, when discovered and considered, they should
yet elude his grasp, and not submit to be comprehended by his utmost
capacity, this disgrace is insupportable to him. Yet such are the
fundamental doctrines of the Christian Revelation. “The forfeiture of
life and immortality, for all mankind, in consequence of one man’s
disobedience,” implies a degree of rigour in the divine justice, of which
he cannot understand the reason. On the other hand, “The restoration
of that lost inheritance by the transcendent humiliation of the Son of
God,” is an abyss of mercy which he can still less fathom. These two
principles, on which the whole scheme of the Gospel turns, are not to be
scanned by human wisdom, and must be admitted on the authority of the
Revelation only. The natural man finds his reason so much discountenanced
and abased by its fruitless efforts to penetrate these mysteries, that
he has no disposition to _receive_, nay, he thinks the honour of his
understanding concerned in _rejecting_, such doctrines.

4. The _fourth_ and last reason I shall mention (and but in one word)
for the natural man’s unfavourable sentiments of revealed religion,
is, That the wisdom of this scheme, so far as it may be apprehended
by us, can only appear from considering the harmony of its several
parts, or, as St. Paul expresses it, by _comparing spiritual things
with spiritual_[36]; a work of time and labour, which he is by no
means forward to undertake. So that, as, in the former instances, his
indisposition arose from the _pride_ of reason, it here springs from its
_laziness and inapplication_.

I omit other considerations, which indispose men for the reception of the
Gospel; such I mean as arise from the perversity of the human _will_;
because I confine myself at present to those only which respect the
exercise of human _Reason_. Now it has been shewn, that this faculty,
as it is commonly employed by those who pride themselves most in it,
is unpropitious to Revelation—_because_, it cares not to admit what it
could not discover—_because_, it willingly disbelieves what it did not
expect—_because_, it is given to reject what it cannot at all, or cannot,
at least, without much pains, comprehend. So good reason had the Apostle
for asserting, that _the natural man receiveth not the things of the
spirit of God_!

Very much of what his been here observed of _Unbelief_, might be applied
to what is so prevalent in our days, and is termed _Socinianism_: which,
though it do not disown altogether the authority of revealed religion,
yet takes leave to reduce it to a small matter, and to explain away
its peculiar doctrines, by a forced and irreverend interpretation of
Scripture. So that the difference is only this: the _unbeliever_ rejects
revelation in the gross, as wholly inconsistent with _human_ reason; the
_Socinian_ admits so much of it as he can bend, or torture into some
conformity with his _own_ reason.

But I have considered this species of _Unbelief_ on a former occasion.

At present, I conclude, on the authority of the text now explained and
justified, that no abilities whatsoever of the professed unbeliever
bring any the least discredit on Christianity, because we know that the
two inherent defects of the natural man, _pride_ and _indolence_, very
fully account for his unbelief, without supposing any want of evidence or
reasonableness in the Christian Religion.

Let it then be no discredit to the Gospel, that it requires _faith_,
which is but another term for MODESTY, in its professors. With this
amiable, and surely not unreasonable, turn of mind, the sublimest
understanding will not scruple to receive the things of the spirit
of God; without it, the natural man cannot receive them: _for_, as
the Apostle declares, and this whole discourse testifies, _they are
foolishness unto him_.




  A

  CHARGE

  OF THE

  BISHOP OF WORCESTER

  TO THE

  CLERGY OF HIS DIOCESE.

  DELIVERED IN THE YEAR 1796.




A CHARGE, &c.


REVEREND BRETHREN,

The Christian Church has, in no age, been exempt from trials. The
_faith and patience of the Saints_ have been successively exercised by
persecution, by heresies, by schisms, by superstition, by fanaticism, by
disguised or avowed infidelity, and sometimes by downright atheism.

In the midst of these perpetual changes, the duty of US, the Ministers of
the Gospel, is one and the same, TO PREACH THE WORD, _in season and out
of season_, that is, whether the circumstances of the time be favourable
to us or not[37].

Concerning the _evidences_ of the Gospel, or the grounds on which our
belief of it is founded, I say no more at present, than that they have
been accurately considered, and set forth at large, by ancient and modern
writers, and are in themselves abundantly satisfactory.

Taking for granted therefore, as we well may, the divine authority of our
holy Religion, there can be no dispute about the obligation we are under
to PREACH it with diligence. But this may be done in several _ways_:
and it may be of use to consider in WHAT way we shall most effectually
discharge that duty.

The Apostle delivers the whole secret in one word, when he ordains—IF ANY
MAN SPEAK, LET HIM SPEAK AS THE ORACLES OF GOD. And my present business
will be to unfold the meaning of this text, or rather to deduce the
_consequences_ which naturally flow from it.

We are to _speak as the Oracles of God_: that is, as men, who have it in
charge to deliver the will and word of God.

I. It follows then, FIRST, that we are to preach the Gospel SIMPLY AND
PLAINLY; i. e. 1. to deliver Scripture truths, in opposition to merely
human tenets and positions: And 2. cogent and immediate inferences from
those truths, in exclusion of far-fetched and fanciful deductions.

1. Having a _message_ to deliver, our business is to report it with
fidelity, and, as a message coming from _God_, with all imaginable
reverence. Human ingenuity may be employed in other compositions, but
has no place here. Our own fancies, and even persuasions, so far as they
rest on our own discovery, must be kept distinct from revealed truths;
and _the two sorts of learning, philosophy and divinity_ (as the wisest
man[38] of the last age advised), _are on no account to be blended
together_. The reason is, that they stand on different foundations; the
one, on the use of our natural faculties, the other, on supernatural
illumination only. The latter we call _Faith_; the former, _Opinion_, or,
as it may chance, _Knowledge_.

Some regard must be had to this distinction, in discoursing on Christian
_morals_, where Reason can do most. But, as to articles of _faith_, that
is, the sum and substance of Christianity, properly so called, the rule
is to be observed universally and inviolably.

2. It follows also, from our speaking as the _oracles of God_, That
we take great care how we deviate from the sacred text, either in our
conclusions from it, or in our glosses upon it. Our _conclusions_, unless
immediate and direct, and even countenanced by the inspired writers
themselves, may easily mislead us. For the nature of the subject being
not at all, or very obscurely, known, we have but a dim view of the
truths necessarily connected with it. Great caution, then, is in this
respect necessary. It is not less so, in _explaining_ the sacred text. An
oracle of God should be delivered either in its own words, or, at least,
in words clearly, and according to the best rules of interpretation,
explicatory of them. The contrary practice is evidently irreverent,
rash, and even prophane. Had this circumspection in reasoning _from_
revealed truths, and in commenting _upon_ them, been strictly observed,
all those heresies which have corrupted, and still corrupt the faith,
had been prevented; and the Church of Christ had happily enjoyed the
great blessing we daily pray for, _The unity of the spirit in the bond of
peace_.

II. It follows, in the next place, from our being instructed to _speak
as the Oracles of God_, that we preach the truths of the Gospel
AUTHORITATIVELY, in exclusion of doubt or hesitation.

This is a consideration of great weight, and puts a wide difference
between the Christian preacher and the theoretical discourser. When weak
men have no ground to stand upon in their moral or religious enquiries
but their own industry and ingenuity, they may well suspect the soundness
of their conclusions, and had need deliver them with distrust and
caution. But the word of God is unquestionable. What is built upon it is
certainly true. Our modesty therefore suffers nothing from announcing
truths, so derived, with perfect assurance[39].

The advantage of this mode of preaching must be obvious to every body. It
was observed by the Jews in the case of our Lord himself; who, _speaking
as the oracles of God_, and as _God_, astonished his auditory, for that
_he taught them as one having authority, and not as the Scribes_[40]:
as having _authority_, because he uttered nothing but infallible truth,
which he had received from God, and had even a right to deliver in his
own name; and not as the _Scribes_, who might indeed have spoken with
authority, if they had duly respected the Law of Moses, which was the
Law of God; but had forfeited this advantage by the liberty they took
of mixing with it their own glosses and traditions[41]. A perpetual and
awakening admonition to the Christian preacher never to forget or betray
his high privilege of speaking with that tone of authority which becomes
his office, and commands attention[42].

This authoritative mode of preaching requires that we carefully avoid,
in our public discourses, whatever has the air of CONTROVERSY[43]. Our
business is to speak undoubted truths, not to dispute about uncertain
opinions. There are many points, no doubt, relative to the Christian
Religion, besides the evidences of it, that may be properly inquired
into, but not in our Churches. We are to press _there_ only what we
know to be true, and to press it _for that reason_. Let such persons,
then, as are curious to pry into abstruse questions, have recourse to
the _Schools_, where such discussions are in their place; or to _Books_,
where they may be regaled with this sort of entertainment to satiety.
But let them not carry this sceptical humour into that _Chair_, whence
oracles only should proceed.

The preacher will indeed say, his design is to recommend and illustrate
the truth by the use of reason. It may be so: but let him remember, that
_the plainest truths lose much of their weight when they are rarefied
into subtleties_[44]; and that what is readily admitted on the authority
of God’s word, becomes doubtful to the common hearer, when we would prove
it by ingenious argumentation.

To compleat the character of a Christian Preacher, it follows as a

III. Third inference from the Apostle’s rule of _speaking as the oracles
of God_, That he inculcate his doctrine with EARNESTNESS and ZEAL, and
not with that indifference which is usually found, and cannot be much
wondered at, in a teacher of his own inventions.

The Christian preacher should, I say, speak with _earnestness_; that is,
with a solicitous concern to instruct and persuade, such as the known
truth of his doctrine warrants. This earnestness must also be attended
with _zeal_; by which I mean nothing extravagant or fanatical; but such
a fervour of application as must become an Instructor, who, besides the
certainty, knows the _moment_ of what he utters.

These rules, it is true, were not unknown to the ancient masters of
Rhetoric, who told their scholars, That to _convince_, and, much more,
to _persuade_, they were to speak with force and warmth. But to do this,
they were first to be convinced and persuaded _themselves_[45]; which,
in their case, was no easy matter. For the principles they went upon
in their reasoning on moral or religious matters, were frequently such
as they could not confide in; or the end they aimed at, in applying to
the passions, was in no high degree interesting. In spite of the rule,
then, their discourses were often feeble and unimpressive. It is quite
otherwise with the Christian preacher. For we are not recommending a
scheme of notions which we have framed out of our _own heads_, or which
we think in some _small_ degree conducive to the benefit of our hearers.
But we speak that which is _indisputably_ true; and inforce that which,
out of all question, concerns us most, “The salvation of our souls, and
eternal happiness.” The coldest heart must be touched with sure truths,
and cannot impart them without vehemence.

I intimate, rather than express, my meaning to you in few words; both
because the time allows me to do no more, and because I know to whom
these hints are addressed. For your experience in the ministry of the
word must have prevented me in all I have _said_, and will readily supply
what I have _omitted_ to say. I assure myself, therefore, you will come
with me to this short conclusion, “That in our sermons we should execute
our commission with FIDELITY, because it is _a commission_—in the way of
AUTHORITY, because it is a _divine_ commission—and lastly with ZEAL, as
knowing the _end_ of our commission, and the infinite importance of it.”

By this method of instruction (of which there is no want of examples,
or even _models_, in the sermons of our best preachers[46]), by this
Apostolic mode of preaching, I say, we shall do justice at once to our
ministry and ourselves. By speaking as _the oracles of God_, we shall
speak as we ought to speak; and we shall speak with an energy that
can rarely fail of effect. We shall alarm the careless, instruct the
ignorant, confirm the weak, reclaim the perverse, disconcert the wise,
and silence the prophane. We shall do this, and more, in the strength of
him who bade us _teach all nations_. And if we teach them in the _way_
which the Holy Spirit enjoins, we may confidently expect the completion
of that gracious and animating promise—LO, I AM WITH YOU ALWAYS, EVEN TO
THE END OF THE WORLD[47].




  A

  CHARGE

  OF THE

  BISHOP OF WORCESTER

  TO THE

  CLERGY OF HIS DIOCESE.

  DELIVERED IN THE YEAR 1800.




A CHARGE, &c.


REVEREND BRETHREN,

I found it necessary to defer my Visitation of you somewhat longer than
the usual time; and have even now no pressing occasion to trouble you
with many words of advice or pastoral exhortation.

For it is with great satisfaction I observe that, in the present eventful
crisis, the clergy in general, and those in particular committed to my
charge, have zealously performed their duty in those instances, that have
chiefly called for their exertions.

If the unprecedented _expences_ of a just and unavoidable war, against an
enemy the most outrageous that has ever alarmed Christendom, have been
felt by all; you have not only supported your share of them with becoming
alacrity, but have done your utmost to infuse into others the same ready
obedience to the authority of Government, and the same zeal for the
support and maintenance of our invaluable Constitution.

If, again, for the punishment of our sins, and to recall us to a due
sense of sobriety and piety, it has pleased God to visit us with
_inclement seasons_, and with the usual effect of them, an extraordinary
scarcity; you have every where come forth to assist the poor out of your
own, not always affluent, incomes, and to solicit the contributions of
your parishioners with such effect, as demonstrates _their_ Christian
temper, as well as your own watchful care and diligence.

If, lastly, the _portentous libertinism_ of the times hath menaced the
destruction of all civil subordination, and even set at defiance all the
sacred ties of our holy Religion; you have not been wanting, in your
respective spheres, to admonish the people of their duty; to revive in
them that veneration of God’s word and will, which had been their support
and safety in former ages; and, agreeably to your solemn engagements
at your Ordination, _to banish and drive away all erroneous and strange
doctrine_.

Having then so much to approve in your conduct, little remains but to
put you in mind of those standing duties of our ministry, which should
never be omitted, and cannot be too frequently recollected by us. And, of
these, one is so particularly called for in the present moment, that I
shall make it the subject of my address to you.

I mean the duty of _Catechizing_ the children of your respective
parishes. For, since the enemies of all goodness are unwearied in their
endeavours to corrupt the young and unwary, and to eradicate from their
minds, as far as they can, the first principles of religion and virtue,
the Christian minister cannot by any means so effectually counteract
their designs, as by a contrary conduct. In other words, he must labour
incessantly to instruct the rising generation in the first grounds
and elements of Christianity, contained in that excellent summary of
faith and practice, which the Church has enjoined to be taught in its
CATECHISM[48].

Now the uses of discharging this part of the pastoral care with
persevering industry are evidently very great in respect, 1. To the
Catechumens; 2. To the congregation present at these exercises; And, 3.
lastly, To the officiating clergy themselves, the younger part of them
especially.

1. The Catechumens themselves cannot but be greatly benefited by this
regimen. For the intention of the Church is, that, by the care of their
parents, and by means of those little schools which are set up in all
places, young children should be taught, as soon as they are able to
attend to any thing, the Church Catechism. And when, by some practice
in this discipline, they can repeat it well, they are to be sent to the
Minister of the parish, to be by him publicly in the Church, at appointed
seasons, proved and examined before the Congregation. This usage being
continued for some years, not only the responses to the interesting
questions in the Catechism must be deeply infixed in their memories, but
something of the sense and meaning of what they have learned, will be
gradually apprehended by them. So that, by the time they appear before
the Bishop for Confirmation, if their respective masters and teachers
be not wanting to them, they must have acquired a competent knowledge
of those important doctrines and precepts, which are contained in it.
Add to this, that, though at the time of learning their Catechism
their knowledge of it be not considerable, yet it is of the highest
importance that it be learnt, and that they can readily recite it. For,
this foundation being laid, they will, in maturer years, and as their
understandings open, the more easily call to mind the rules of their
duty, and profit the more by any future instructions conveyed to them in
sermons, in the use of the Liturgy, and otherwise.

Such will especially be the case, if the children be accustomed, as they
should be, to make their answers distinctly and deliberately; and, if the
Minister intermix some short hints and observations of his own, tending
to make the sense of those answers easy and familiar to them. So much for
the _Catechumens_; I observe,

2. Further, that the whole _Congregation_ present at these exercises must
be specially edified by them.

The parents and friends of the catechized children will, for obvious
reasons, take a lively interest in this public trial of their
sufficiency. They will listen themselves, more attentively perhaps than
they had ever done before, to the _questions_ and _answers_, and will
enter further into the drift and use of them. Nay, the whole congregation
will be put in mind of those fundamental lessons of piety, which they
had heretofore learnt and repeated themselves, and be now capable of
reflecting more deeply upon them. So that the old will carry away with
them much solid instruction, while the young are training up to smaller
degrees of it.

There is no doubt, then, of the benefit which the Congregation would
derive from this practice of Catechising. But it would rise still higher,
if the Catechizers, besides interrogating the children, and trying their
memories, would further take this opportunity of teaching all present
the momentous truths contained in this breviary: I mean, if, during
the season of Catechizing, they would make the several parts of the
Catechism the subject of their Sermons. And, to induce them the rather to
do this, I add,

3. Lastly, that, by exerting their industry and talents in this way,
the Clergy themselves will derive no small use from this Catechetical
institution.

From the earliest times of Christianity, care has been always taken
to provide _Confessions_, _Creeds_, and _Catechisms_, for the use of
Converts and the newly baptized. These were so contrived as to contain in
few words the fundamental doctrines and commands of our Religion; that
so they night be easily understood and remembered. Of these summaries,
several were drawn up by our Reformers; and, after some changes and
improvements, were reduced at length into our present _Church Catechism_,
the most convenient and useful, because the simplest and shortest, of all
others.

All these, whether of earlier or later date, are well known to the
Clergy, and without doubt are studied by them.

Besides, some of the most eminent of our Divines have applied themselves
particularly to write comments on these Catechisms, to explain their
meaning more fully, and to give the most accurate expositions of them.
These expositors are so numerous, and so well known, that I should scarce
have mentioned the names of any, if two of them, I mean Bishop Pearson
and Dr. Barrow, did not deserve to be specially recommended to the
student in Divinity, for their superlative excellence.

Now then, by the use of our protestant Catechisms, and of the many
learned Commentators upon them, the younger clergy, as well as the more
advanced, will have such abundant materials before them, that they may,
with no great trouble, and with extraordinary benefit to themselves,
draw up a set of Sermons and Lectures to accompany their Catechetical
examinations. I say with extraordinary benefit to _themselves_; because
it is certain that he who takes due pains to teach others, teaches
himself: nor can the least prepared of our brethren be at a loss to
furnish his mind with a competent, indeed a sufficient, degree of
knowledge; so as to instruct his congregation in all the Articles of the
Church Catechism, that is, in all the necessary points of Christian faith
and practice.

In contemplation therefore of these benefits, I recommend this mode of
catechizing, and of expounding the Catechism in occasional concomitant
discourses, to all my brethren very particularly. The children will be
trained up for Confirmation in the knowledge of the first principles of
their religion; those of riper years will be confirmed in what they had
before learnt; and the teachers of both will advance their own skill and
ability by this course of theological study.

We shall be told perhaps by some, that this way of catechizing is the
way to fill the minds of the Catechumens with _prejudices_. And, without
doubt, what is taught them in this way is _pre-judged_ for them. But by
whom? Not by weak, or unskilful, or dishonest persons; but by men, the
ablest, the most learned, and the holiest, that have appeared in the
Christian world. Such doctrines, so derived, and, let me add, clearly
sanctioned by apostolic authority, may surely deserve the name of
_truths_, and not of prejudices.

I am persuaded, therefore, that a Regimen, so reasonable and so salutary,
will recommend itself to your special notice, as the likeliest means of
putting some stop to the licentious principles of the times. I will
not suppose that your zeal to do good can be, at such a juncture, less
operative, than that of others to do mischief. In a word, by adapting a
set of clear, plain, earnest, and scriptural sermons to the authorized
office of catechetical examination, we shall provide, at once, that our
Congregations be _instructed_ in the right way; the way which the wisdom
of the Church prescribes; and that we ourselves be duly qualified to
_impart_ that instruction.

The Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the
fellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with you all. Amen[49].




  APPENDIX:

  CONTAINING

  FOUR OCCASIONAL TRACTS

  ON

  DIFFERENT SUBJECTS AND OCCASIONS.




  OCCASIONAL TRACTS,

  CHIEFLY

  CONTROVERSIAL.




_ADVERTISEMENT._


_The controversial Tracts, which make up this Volume, were written and
published by the Author at different times, as opportunity invited, or
occasion required. Some sharpness of style may be objected to them; in
regard to which he apologizes for himself in the words of the Poet_:

        ——Me quoque pectoris
    Tentavit in dulci juventâ
    Fervor——
        ——nunc ego mitibus
    Mutare quæro tristia.

                                                                     R. W.




  REMARKS

  ON

  MR. WESTON’S “ENQUIRY

  INTO

  THE REJECTION OF THE

  CHRISTIAN MIRACLES

  BY THE HEATHENS.”

  FIRST PRINTED IN 1746.




ADVERTISEMENT

IN 1746.


The following Remarks were drawn up within a few weeks after the
publication of Mr. Weston’s Book; but without any intention of printing
them at that time, when it was conceived not unlikely that some more
elaborate Answer might come out. But nothing of that kind appearing, and
it being now no longer probable that there is in fact any such design,
the Author has been induced to review his papers, and to give them,
with some small additions and alterations, to the Public. How far that
_Public_ will esteem itself obliged to him for having suppressed them
thus long, he presumes not to say; but believes himself well intitled to
the thanks of the learned _Inquirer_, as having _still_ this merit, that
he is the FIRST who has paid his respects to him.




  REMARKS

  ON A LATE BOOK, ENTITLED,

  AN ENQUIRY

  INTO

  THE REJECTION OF THE

  CHRISTIAN MIRACLES

  BY THE HEATHENS.




REMARKS ON A LATE BOOK, &c.


The Writer of the _Inquiry into the Rejection of the Christian Miracles
by the Heathens_[50] having, as he is well assured[51], an undoubted
claim to one of the two reasons for making a work public, _that what
it contains_ SHOULD _be new_, and not willing that so uncommon a merit
should be thrown away upon his reader, is careful to advertise us of this
point himself, and accordingly flourishes upon it with much apparent
alacrity and satisfaction through a great part of his Preface. For, not
content with this bare assertion of his claim, he grows so elate, as to
wonder this important theme should be reserved for him[52], and that no
sagacity of former times had been blessed in the discovery. Nay, lest his
very Patron should neglect him, or as if he suspected my Lord might look
no farther than the Dedication, he scruples not to mention even there
the excellency of his work; and is very frank in declaring his own _good
opinion_ of it[53].

An exordium like this, we know, is generally inauspicious. However,
it may serve to one end, not the least considerable, it may be, in an
author’s views, to engage the public attention. For it is indeed but
natural to inquire into the peculiar merit of a work that could inspire
its writer with such boasts, and fill a place in it, till now sacred to
a real or pretended modesty, with such unusual confidence and triumph.
And this, we are told, consists in _the discovery of a new solution of a
difficulty about miracles[54], which had long perplexed the Inquirer more
than all the rest put together_. For, taking into his consideration the
argument for the divinity of our holy Religion, as arising therefrom,
_he could not help thinking it extremely odd, that such numbers of men,
for so long a time, could reject what to Christians in general, and
himself in particular, seemed to be of so great weight_[55]. And the
embarras he was under from this difficulty put him _upon looking for
some solution of it amongst the variety of authors on this subject, both
ancient and modern_; but to no purpose, it seems, till the felicity of
his own genius had struck out a new route, and led him to seek it _in the
low opinion which the heathens entertained of miracles_.

And now the whole discovery is out; and, to say the truth, is every way
so surprizing, that an author of less modesty than ours had assumed a
still farther merit upon it. For, wherefore else should he rest in the
honour of a new _solution_, when the _objection_ itself is _his_? And
surely at this time of day, when every species of hostility has been
tried, and the whole armoury of the enemy been exhausted in the service,
it must be deemed a higher praise of _invention_ to have furnished new
arms, than to counteract the use of them. Nor do I pay the author too
great a compliment in supposing the objection _his_, since he fairly
owns _it has always been passed over_[56], which, in an age like this,
when every difficulty relating to Revealed Religion has been sedulously
urged, and honestly examined, is in effect saying it was never _started_.
And, indeed, this is so much the case, that, instead of dreaming of any
objection from this quarter, Christian writers have universally agreed
in representing the quick and speedy conversion of the heathen world, as
an undeniable evidence of its divinity. And, for the truth of the fact,
they appeal to the testimony of the heathens themselves complaining of
the enormous growth of the _new sect_; which had spread itself over at
orders and degrees of men, insomuch that their altars were neglected,
and the temples of their gods left in a manner desolate[57]. Nay, the
Christian apologists, we know, braved them to their very face with the
incredible progress of Christianity[58]. And thus, instead of its being
true, as the Inquirer candidly insinuates, _that there was something so
exceedingly perplexed and intricate in the subject itself, or something
so critical and dangerous in the solution of it, that it was always
thought proper to be kept from view_[59], nothing, on the contrary,
can be more evident than that there is no difficulty to be accounted
for at all; or, if some more forward projector should affect to make
one of it, the pretence might easily, and without any danger, admit a
_solution_. So that, upon the whole (if a dealer in novelties were not
too much disgraced by so _stale_ an allusion), one should be apt to
regard the learned writer as having been pushed on to this Inquiry by
much the same spirit as, in an evil hour, led the valorous Knight of
_Manca_ out upon his rambles. For, struck with the conceit of his own
superior prowess, and considering withal the loss the world might sustain
by his not appearing in it, he marched forth into the land of Religious
Disputation, in quest of adventures; where, finding no _real_ objections
to encounter, he was determined however to create _imaginary_ ones, and
so, converting the next innocent thing he came at into a monster, laid
out his whole strength and force in the combat. Where too the success
of the adventurers is not unlike. For the difficulty, if it be one,
is much too hard for the abilities of our Inquirer; as, whatever his
antagonist was, the unlucky Knight had always the worst of it. For, in
examining the other part of the author’s discovery, his answer to the
supposed objection, we shall find that as he set out with a difficulty
without grounds, so he will salve it by a fact without proof. And this,
it will be owned, consistently enough: for, where a phantom only is to
be engaged, the hero but exposes himself that goes against it in _real
armour_.

    ——Frustra _ferro_ diverberet _umbras_.

But let us hear the fact itself. It is maintained then as the basis of
the Inquirer’s whole work, _that the heathens in general had a very low
opinion of miracles; and that this was not put on by them to serve some
particular purposes, but was really a principle that influenced their
actions on the most interesting and trying occasions_[60]. The Inquirer
has more than once[61] expressed his apprehensions that the _novelty_ of
his doctrine would, at least with many of his readers, be a prejudice
against its reception; but not once, that I can find, does he appear
to have entertained any the least distrust or concern about the truth
of it. And yet the public will be apt to think this the fitter object
of his fears. For, allowing the utmost weight and force to the several
testimonies he has put together, the whole amount of their evidence is
this:—_that a few particular persons, many of them under inveterate
prejudices against Christianity, expressed but a low opinion of miracles,
which they knew to be_ FALSE, _or of certain_ REAL _ones, which they
did not believe_. And where is the wonder? Or how has the Inquirer, with
all his sagacity, been able to collect a proof of the _low opinion of
miracles amongst the heathen in general_ from the unavailing evidence of
such witnesses? For, is it strange that the Roman præfects[62] were not
the immediate converts of Jesus and Paul, on account of the wonders said
to have been done by them? If the Inquirer believes such testimonies to
his purpose, I will engage to furnish a long list of them, even as many
as there were unconverted heathens, who had the means and opportunity of
informing themselves of the truth of his history. Is it remarkable that
the miracles of one impostor[63] are not spoken of with _much_ esteem by
writers, who were not delivering the popular opinion concerning them, and
who had plainly too much sense to believe them themselves? Or is it so
much as _true_, either of him, or the others he mentions, that they were
then negligently treated by their professed admirers and encomiasts[64]?
Or, were it _true_, could any thing more be collected from it than that
the miracles imputed to them were too trifling in themselves, or too
weakly supported, to be believed?

But we have not yet done with the writer’s negative testimonies. For he
thinks _that_ of _Marcellinus_ should not be passed over; though the
most he can make of it is, that the historian _dissembles_ a miracle[65]
wrought to the utter confusion of his Master, and _relates an event,
which he was not at liberty to confute_.

What comes next is indeed _positive_, but still less to the writer’s
purpose. We can scarce think him serious, when he would urge the
testimony of Hierocles, Celsus, and Julian, the avowed and virulent
opposers of Christianity[66], as an evidence of a general contempt
of miracles in the heathen world. Nor has he better luck with his
philosophers. For, is the opinion of a few atheistical speculatists[67],
and perhaps one or two more of better fame, of the least weight in
deciding this matter; especially when it is plain, from the very passage
referred to[68], that they saw through the imposture of the heathen
miracles; and rejected them _merely_ on that account? Can his Ægyptian
Gymnosophists, piqued, as they were, at the reputation of the Indian
miracles[69], and yet, in effect, confessing their esteem of them by
pretending to work such themselves, can these witnesses be thought
deserving the least credit? Above all, is the wonder-working _Apollonius_
brought in to disclaim miracles, and that too in a passage intended
only to express his contempt of some fooleries in witchcraft[70]? But
what the _philosophers_ could not do for him, the _law-givers_ he
resolves shall, and therefore brings in a long list of sages[71], all
of them, as he thinks, concurring to establish this point. But how?
Why, in his _negative_ way of witnessing, _in their making no pretence
to miracles_—that is, as every body sees, in their making no pretence
to what they _durst not_ counterfeit, or _did not_ want; and when it
is certain they _did pretend_ to them in the only safe way of a secret
intercourse and communication[72]. But the cause is growing still more
desperate. For, are the Christian Apologists to be charged with this
_evil principle_[73]? and that only for maintaining, in their occasional
disputes with the heathens; what the ablest Divines have ever done, and
still continue to maintain, the insufficiency of miracles _alone_, and
if taken _by themselves_, to establish the divinity of any revelation?
an opinion founded, as it should seem, on the express testimony of Jesus
Christ[74]; or, if _false_, which has not been made appear, excusable
enough in their situation, when _real_ miracles were owned to be in the
power of evil spirits, or when at least the general prevalency of this
persuasion amongst their heathen adversaries might render it expedient
for the Christian writers to argue on the concession of it. But, ill as
this treatment is, the venerable Apologists have no cause of complaint.
They share but the same fate, as ONE much their better. For, the
_dignity_ of the writer’s witnesses, whatever becomes of their _evidence,
is still increasing_[75]; and having made free with the _Fathers_ of the
Church (for I say nothing of his _Jews_, not only because he confesses
them nothing to his purpose[76], but because, if their evidence has
any weight at all, it _determines_ the contrary way[77]), having, as I
said, made free with the _Fathers_ of the Church, he next claims the
sanction of an _Apostle_. Has then the Inquirer one _sure_ and _certain_
retreat? And is his novelty at last, all spent and wearied as it is,
to elude our hopes by finding refuge in the sacred writings[78]? So
indeed he would persuade himself or his readers. And this, it must be
owned, is _no novel practice_. It is ever the last expedient of a sinking
cause, when forsaken of all human help, and fearing the just vengeance
of indignant reason, to strive to support itself by laying hold on the
altar. But the Scriptures are no _sanctuary_ for falshoods. We shall
therefore esteem it no irreverence to approach the holy place, and, as
we are instructed in a like case, to take the _fugitive_ from it. The
case appears to have been this: In the Apostle’s design of breaking
an unchristian faction in the Church of Corinth, which had arose, it
seems, from a vain ostentation of human science, his business was to
discredit their misapplied learning with the people, and to check the
arrogance of these _perverse disputers_ themselves. To this end, he sets
himself to shew that it was not on account of any advantage of skill in
human learning or eloquence that God was pleased to make choice of the
preachers of the Gospel; but that, on the other hand, he rather chose
the _foolish_, i. e. the illiterate and uneducated, the better to expose
the weakness of human wisdom, and to display, with greater force, the
power and excellency of the _Cross of Christ_[79]. And this, he proceeds
to observe, is but agreeable to the general œconomy of God’s providence,
which doth not conform itself to our views of fitness or expediency; but
most commonly by the choice of such instruments and means as to us seem
_unfit_ or _inexpedient_, _destroys the wisdom of the wise, and brings
to nothing the understanding of the prudent_[80]. A remarkable example
of which method of dealing with mankind, continues the Apostle[81], we
have in the dispensation of the Gospel, _introduced_ in such a manner,
and _established_ by such means, as both to _Jew_ and _Gentile_ appear
absurd and unaccountable. _For the Jews ask after a sign_, i. e. look
for an outward ostentatious display of worldly power and pre-eminence
going along with, and attending on the Messiah; and, under the influence
of such prepossession, make that a _sign_ or test of his coming, and
even refuse to acknowledge his Divine mission without it[82]. Whilst the
Greeks, on the contrary, seduced by the charms of a studied eloquence,
or inslaved to the tenets of a conceited philosophy, require the Gospel
to be preached in agreement to their notions and prejudices; and reject a
Redeemer, whose method of salvation is not conformable to the conclusions
of their schools, and whose doctrine is unadorned by the graces of their
learning. Whereas, in fact, proceeds the Apostle, our commission is
to publish, in all plainness, a religion to the world, fundamentally
opposite to the prejudices of both. For its main doctrine, and on which
hangs all the rest, is that of a _crucified Saviour_; which therefore,
as being offensive to the fond hopes and expectations of the Jew, and
not suited to his ideas of the _Divine power_ and greatness, is to him a
_stumbling-block_: And being a method of salvation neither agreeing to
their conceptions of the Divine _wisdom_, nor set off with the colours
of heathen wit, is to the Greeks _foolishness_. Though yet it is to both
these _Jews and Greeks_, when rightly instructed in the ways of God’s
Providence, _both the power of God and the wisdom of God_[83]. Thus we
see, at length, what the writer’s sacred authority is come to; which,
having no foundation but in the groundless comment a mistaken passage is
thus easily overturned and confuted. For from hence it appears, that the
Apostle, far from attesting his whimsy of _the low opinion of miracles
amongst the heathens_, does not so much as of Miracles at all: or, if he
must be made an evidence in the cause, gives judgment against him; as
plainly enough expressing his opinion, that it was not a _contempt of
miracles_, but the _conceit of wisdom_, which made the great difficulty
to converting the Pagan world.

And now having dispersed his _cloud of witnesses_ (which, unlike the
_sacred_ one it would seem to resemble, instead of illustrating and
reflecting a fuller light on the _fact_ it surrounds, serves only to
obscure and conceal it) having shewn, I say, if not the falshood of his
_fact_, at least the insufficiency of his _evidence_ to support it, I
might fairly dismiss the remainder of his book without any confutation;
the following chapters, as he tells us, being intended to account for
this fact, which he presumes to have fully established. But, as he
appears unwilling to rest the whole of his cause on the merit of so
slight an evidence, and has therefore engaged for a further confirmation
of it in the following pages[84], it will be proper to collect in a few
words, what additional evidence may arise from that quarter: And in doing
this, I shall think it sufficient to examine, not his premises, but
conclusion; and so, leaving him in full possession of his _facts_, to
argue with him, in agreement to the design of these slight sheets, on the
weight and force of his deductions. And here,

1. Allowing him to have proved _the vanity of the heathen pretensions
to miracles_, c. iv. v. vi. in the fullest sense he can wish; and
that no _real wonder_ was ever wrought, or _oracle_ delivered, by any
of the numerous pretenders to either, what will the author say is the
proper inference from it?—That therefore the heathens _could_ not but
have a low opinion of miracles? That, indeed, would be to his purpose;
but nothing can be less supported. For were not such miracles and
oracles at least generally believed? Or, if several impostures were
detected, does the author imagine that such detection would utterly
sink the credit of all future miracles[85]? A writer, so skilled in the
workings of superstition, and who appears to have taken much pains to
pry into the dark corners of humanity, ought to know, that the passion
for wonder is a foible too _intimately_ connected with our nature to be
thus easily driven out from it. And the history of mankind gives the
strongest confirmation of this, in relating, as it does, notwithstanding
the presumed effect of such discoveries, the very ready reception,
which Miracles have ever met with. The truth is, the Inquirer might as
well have set himself to prove _the vanity of the Popish pretension
to miracles_, and then have inferred, from the frequent detection of
impostures amongst them, that therefore the Papists cannot but have
_a very low opinion of miracles_. This, I say, had been as logically
inferred; and yet, I believe the first traveller from Rome, or next
account he should look into of Italy, or Spain, would infallibly spoil
the argument, and confute his conclusion. And, to do the author justice,
he seems not unconscious of this, when, after all the learned pains he
had taken to establish this point, he allows, _that though his argument
had shewn, what little reason the heathens had to think, that miracles
had ever been wrought amongst them at all, yet it does not of consequence
follow, that they would certainly make use of the light, that was held
out to them_; but observes, _that whether they did or not, their esteem
of miracles will be but little increased; for if ever they were alarmed
by an appearance, which they could not tell how to account for, or
over-borne by the weight of such testimony, as they could not tell how to
invalidate, the principle of magic was one general recourse_.

2. His strong-hold, then, we see, at last, is Magic. We shall follow
him therefore one step further, and try if we cannot dislodge him
from it. The fact conceded to him is, _that the persuasion was pretty
general in the heathen world, that by means of magic, that is, of certain
superstitious rites, and sacrifices, and by certain words and invocations
of dæmons, many things could be done exceeding the power of man; and that
accordingly many seeming miracles, wrought amongst them, were imputed
to this power of magic_. But then to infer from hence, as the Inquirer
would have us, that therefore the heathens under the persuasion of these
principles, must necessarily entertain a very low opinion of _all_
miracles, is sure concluding too fast. For, though I could admit this
to be a tolerable reason for the rejection of _some Pagan_ miracles,
it does not, we see, at all affect the _Christian_; which _only_ are,
or ought to be, the concern of his book. So that the argument, fairly
stated, confutes itself. For it stands thus: The heathens conceived
many miraculous appearances, produced for some _trifling_ or _noxious_
purpose, to be in the power of certain persons, acting under the power of
_bad dæmons_[86], and by the means of certain _magical, and superstitious
rites_.—THEREFORE they of necessity entertained a low opinion of _all_
miracles, though wrought by pawns, claiming their power and pretensions
from _God_ himself, for purposes the most _momentous_ and _benevolent_,
and without the interposition of _any_ sacrificial or superstitious
rites[87]. But this is not all: We learn from the history of the
propagation of Christianity, that in certain places (and who can doubt
in all where the pretended powers of magic were opposed to the genuine
workings of the Spirit of God?) such methods were used by Christ and his
Apostles, as were sufficient to manifest the difference of their miracles
from those of magicians, and to assert the divinity of their mission, in
the very judgment of the magicians themselves[88]. And this, as it seems,
always with such illustrious evidence, as to render it inexcusable in
those, who had the opportunity of seeing and examining the difference, to
remain unsatisfied of it. For I cannot but think it worthy the Inquirer’s
regard, though no _novelty_, that the Heathen charge of _magic_, was
but in other words the Jewish accusation of _Beelzebub_; either of them
the genuine result of pure unallayed malice, and, concerning which, our
Saviour’s determination is well known. And therefore when the learned
writer contends, that the Heathens had a low opinion of miracles in
general, on account of the supposed power and efficacy of charms, and
magical incantations, he might with equal reason here have taken upon him
to shew, that the Jews also had it low opinion of miracles in general on
account of the supposed power of their diviners, and sorcerers, of which
we likewise bear much amongst them, and from their ascribing, as we know
they did, many miraculous effects and operations to them: an opinion,
which, I presume, the learned writer will not find it to his purpose to
maintain.

3. As to the author’s argument from the _multiplication of the Heathen
Gods_ (which is the only remaining part of his book I think myself
concerned in[89]) if he means to conclude from it, that in consequence
of the multitude of pretended miracles, flowing from such belief,
miracles themselves must of necessity _lose their force, and sink in
their esteem_[90], it is very frivolous, and admits an easy answer. For,
besides its inherent weakness of bad logic, in concluding from a cause
of possible efficiency to a _certain_ effect, it has the misfortune, in
common with his other reasonings on this subject, to be confuted by plain
matter of fact. And, for his satisfaction in this point, I refer him once
more to the case of the Romanists; who, notwithstanding the multiplicity
of their saints, all of them dealers in miracles, and swarming in such
numbers as to equal, if not exceed, the rabble of Pagan divinities,
do not yet appear to have contracted from thence and disrelish, or
disesteem for miracles. The truth is, the whole additional evidence
arising from the main of his book in confirmation of his pretended
fact, _that the Heathens entertained a low opinion of miracles_, is so
very inconsiderable, that, as we now see, it hardly amounts to a bare
probability. For, after all, the reader will perhaps incline to think,
contrary to what the learned writer directs him, that such prevalency
of magic, and multiplicity of gods, is no bad proof of the esteem and
credit, that miracles were in amongst them. At least, ’tis no unfair
presumption, that a people could not be so averse to miracles, as the
author pretends, nor generally be possessed by a thorough contempt of
them, when, notwithstanding the frequent detection of _false_ miracles,
and more than one degrading solution at hand for the _true_, they
should yet be able to maintain their ground, and take such footing in
the popular belief, as to be continually affording fresh occasion to
imposture, and fresh encouragement to the dealers in this traffic to
practise on the wonder and credulity of mankind.

2. And whoever sets out with this surmise, (which is apparently not
ill-founded) will find it greatly strengthened in observing, that of all
the reproaches cast upon the Heathen world, and of all the prejudices
objected to them by the first propagators of Christianity, this of the
contempt of miracles was not so much as once mentioned, there not being
the least hint, or remotest intimation in the sacred writings of their
labouring under any peculiar prepossession of this kind. A circumstance
perfectly unaccountable, if what the Inquirer contends for be true, since
such prepossession could not but greatly obstruct the Apostolic labours,
and make it necessary for them to bend their first care and application
that way.

3. And it raises the wonder still higher to observe, that whilst the
Heathens escape uncensured in this respect, the Jews are severely rebuked
for their incredulity and disregard miracles[91]; where too, by the very
cast and turn of the reproof, the Heathens are to be understood as less
chargeable on this head, than the Jews.

4. But, what has still the worst aspect on the writer’s scheme, is, that
whilst the Apostles are quite silent as to this charge upon the Gentile,
nor appear once to rank it in the list of such impediments, as retarded
the conversion of the Pagan world, they are at the same time very express
in declaring to us, what the chief of those _impediments_ were. They
in part have been already suggested[92], and were, if St. Paul may be
credited, in reality, these: 1. _A conceit of superior wisdom_ amongst
the men of letters and education[93]. And, 2. _The corruptions and gross
idolatries_ of the people at _large_[94].

5. But what! it will after all be asked, Is there then no truth in
what the leaned writer has advanced concerning the Heathen contempt
of miracles; and in particular, is his long detail of principles and
circumstances, concurring, as it should seem, to produce such contempt,
utterly without all force or meaning?

This has no where been said; and the contrary is what I am now ready to
affirm. For, to do the Inquirer justice, it was upon the basis of a good,
old truth, that this wondrous novelty was erected. A fine writer[95]
will tell us what it was. “We may observe,” (says he, in accounting for
the silence of Pagan writers in respect of our Saviour’s history) “that
the ordinary practice of MAGIC in those times, with the many pretended
PRODIGIES, DIVINATIONS, APPARITIONS, and LOCAL MIRACLES amongst the
Heathens, made them less attentive to such news from Judæa, till they had
time to consider the NATURE, the OCCASION, and the END of our Saviour’s
Miracles, and were awakened by many surprizing events to allow them
any consideration at all.” We see here the ground-work of our author’s
performance, and have determined to our hands with great accuracy, how
far his general position is true, and to what extent the particular
circumstances and situation of the Heathens would in _reality_ affect
their opinion of miracles. Had the learned writer confined himself within
these limits, he would, I conceive, have had reason and history on his
side, and, whatever alarm he may be in _from the froward and contentious
spirit of party in religion_, no _enemies_ to oppose him. But then this,
it must be owned, had been saying nothing _new_: The world had lost the
benefit of a discovery, and the author, what of all things he would most
regret, the glory of INVENTION.




  THE

  OPINION

  OF AN

  EMINENT LAWYER, &c.

  FIRST PRINTED IN 1751.




  THE

  OPINION

  OF AN

  EMINENT LAWYER,

  CONCERNING

  THE RIGHT OF APPEAL

  FROM THE VICE-CHANCELLOR OF CAMBRIDGE,
  TO THE SENATE;

  Supported by a short historical Account of
  the JURISDICTION of the UNIVERSITY.

  In Answer to a late Pamphlet, intitled,

  “_An Inquiry into the Right of Appeal from
  the Chancellor or Vice-Chancellor of the
  University of Cambridge_,” &c.

  _Is ne erret, moneo, et desinat lacessere._
  _Habeo alia multa, nunc quæ condonabitur;_
  _Quæ proferentur post, si perget lædere._

  BY A FELLOW OF A COLLEGE.




THE OPINION OF AN EMINENT LAWYER[96], &c.


The dispute _concerning Appeals_, which at present engages the attention
of the University of _Cambridge_, is apparently of such importance to the
peace and welfare of that great body; that it could not but be expected
from any one, who proposed to deliver his thoughts upon it to the world,
that he should at least have taken care to inform himself perfectly of
the merits of the question, before he presumed, in so public a manner, to
concern himself in it.

It must, therefore, surprize the reader of a late _Inquiry into the Right
of Appeal, &c._ to find, that the writer of it, whoever he be (for as
he chuses to conceal name, I shall not take the liberty to conjecture of
it) should adventure to treat a matter of this consequence, without any
distinct knowledge of the state of the case itself, or indeed without
appearing to possess one single qualification, which is required to do
justice to it. For the question, discussed, is of such a nature, that it
cannot be determined, nor indeed tolerably treated by any one, who hath
not a pretty exact knowledge of the _History_, _Customs_, and _Statutes_,
of the University; and who is not, besides, at least competently skilled
in the _Civil and Ecclesiastical Laws_. And yet this writer, as though
nothing else was required of him, besides a confident face, and willing
mind, boldly undertakes to decide upon it, under a perfect incapacity in
all these respects. Instead of an accurate acquaintance with the Practice
and Usages of the University, it appears he had no further knowledge
of them, than what a few hasty and ill-considered extracts from the
Register had supplied him with. So far is he from being conversant in the
Statutes of the University, that he blunders in every attempt to explain
the very easiest of them. And, as to his _Law_, he has only skimmed the
surface of it for a few frothy terms, without giving the least proof of
his being possessed, in any degree, of the sense and substance of it.
This utter inability to discuss a point, he had voluntarily undertaken,
must be thought the more extraordinary in a person, who, throughout the
whole, assumes an air of authority; and though he professes modestly in
his title page to _enquire_, yet, in effect, _prescribes and dictates_
from one end of his _pamphlet_ to the other. The tone of this disputer,
whatever becomes of his reasoning, is all along decisive; and he _does
and must insist_, as if he thought his very word of force enough to bear
down all the reason and argument, that could be opposed to him.

Indeed the superior airs he gives himself, on all occasions, are not
without their use. For persons unacquainted, as the generality of his
readers must needs be, with the question itself, are readily enough
inclined to believe, that a person so _assured_, cannot be so entirely
_ignorant_ of the merits of it, as in fact he is. And they who know
better, cannot but apprehend somewhat from the assumed authority of a
writer, who talks so big; however his total insufficiency might, in other
respects, provoke their contempt. For my own part, I could not help
considering him as a person of eminent dignity in the University; whose
rank in it might give him a right to dictate to the school-boys of the
place; for so he gives us to understand, he conceives of _the Members
of the University Senate_[97]. In pursuing my conjectures further about
him, I was sometimes inclined to think, from the very reverend regard he
every where professeth for the Heads of colleges, that he must, himself,
be one of that illustrious body and was led to excuse the superiority
of his manner from reflecting, that a habit of governing absolutely in
his own college (for so he thinks Heads of colleges have a right to
govern[98]) had insensibly inspired that despotic style and language,
which were so disgustful, and had looked so ungracefully, in any other.
But then, again, my profound respect and esteem of that venerable order,
and my actual knowledge of the great talents, with which these reverend
personages so worthily preside in their high places, would not suffer me
to imagine, that any of their number could be _so_ unqualified to treat
a matter of a merely academical nature, as this writer had shewn himself
to be; and especially, as it immediately concerned their own authority,
which they so assiduously study, and so perfectly understand. On the
whole, I was forced to dismiss this conjecture, as having no reasonable
foundation to rest upon, and, in perfect civility and good manners
towards a set of men, for whom I have so sincere an honour, could only
conclude him, at last, to be some weak and shallow pedant; unknown and
uncountenanced by _them_; whose vanity had done him an ill turn; and
thrust him unadvisedly on a weighty office, which he had no warrant, as
he had no abilities, to discharge.

Under this opinion, both of the writer and his performance, which, as
the reader sees, I took not up upon slight grounds, it was not likely I
should ever think of giving myself the least trouble about either; much
less that I should believe it worth the while to undertake in form, the
examination of a foolish pamphlet, which indeed, I had hardly patience
enough to peruse. The truth is, it had lain for ever unnoticed by me
among the rubbish, which of late hath so oppressed the publick, on the
subject of our academical disputes; or, at least, had been left for
some future ACADEMIC to discourse of, at his leisure; had it not been
for the _Opinions_ of two truly learned and respectable Lawyers; which
the _Inquirer_ had thought fit to intersperse, as a little needful
seasoning, in his insipid performance; and which, indeed, give it all the
real weight and authority, it can possibly carry with it to men of sense.

The _Inquirer_, as supposing these gentlemen to afford some countenance
to the good cause, he is maintaining, thinks fit, on the mention of
their names, to drop his crest a little; and, in a lower tone of voice
than usual, affects to treat them even with some appearance of respect.
Yet this he does in so aukward a manner, as shews it was not usual or
familiar to him, to descend to such submissions; for, as the height of
that civility, which he was willing to express towards them, he chuses
to distinguish them only by the title of the _Gentlemen of the_ LONG
ROBE. What impression the idea of a sweeping train may possibly make on
the phantasy of this writer, I know not; but I, who am more concerned
about the _heads_ than the _tails_ of these learned gentlemen, should
have thought it an apter compliment to have turned our attention the
other way. Unless, perhaps, he was secretly conscious, that by a little
unfair dealing in the proposal of the _Queries_, in relation to which
their opinions were asked, their Answers themselves did no real honour
to the more essential part of a great lawyer, and so far willing to pin
the credit of them intirely on their _gowns_. In plain truth this was
the very case, as will appear from the _Queries_ themselves, and the
_Answers_; together with a few observations, which I shall beg leave to
subjoin to them.

“After stating the _42d_ and _48th_ of Queen _Elizabeth’s_ Statues, some
circumstances of Mr. _A—’s_ behaviour, and that an appeal of the same
nature with his was not quite unprecedented, the two following Queries
were put, [_Inq. p. 28._]

    “Qu. I. Whether, in this case, the Vice-Chancellor and his
    assessors have not acted solely under the _42d_ Statute; _de
    Cancellarii Officio_; and whether any appeal can lie against
    the suspension of _A._ by virtue of that Statute? or whether
    this case must be deemed one of the _causæ forenses_, and
    of consequence subject to an appeal by virtue of the _48th_
    Statute, _de Causis Forensibus_?

    “Qu. II. Whether, if in the case above stated, the said _A—_
    hath a right to appeal from his suspension; the same right
    of appeal will not follow to every delinquent scholar, who
    shall be punished a trifling mulct or piece of exercise by the
    Vice-Chancellor?”

_After stating_, says he, _the 42d_ and _48th Statutes_, &c. Whence it
appears, that no other evidence was laid before the Lawyers, with regard
to the right of appeals, than certain extracts from Q. _Elizabeth’s_
Statutes: Which was not the most certain method of obtaining an accurate
decision. For, though the Queen’s Statutes alone, as we apprehend, afford
_sufficient_ evidence of our right, yet they are by no means, as will
presently be seen, the _whole_ evidence.

But, waving this consideration, let us come directly to the _Queries_
themselves. The _first_ is a master-piece in its kind, and may be of use
to instruct future querists, how to propose their doubts in the most
convenient manner.

For instead of asking the Lawyers, whether the powers, given in the _42d_
Statute, are subject to appeal, the question is put to them, whether in
suspending Mr. _A—_ they had acted under that Statute? Again; instead
of inquiring whether the _jurisdiction_ given in the _two Statutes_ be
the same or different, the Query is (on supposition of a difference) to
which class of tryals Mr. _A—’s_ case belonged? In short, the Lawyers
were made to believe, that this was the main point in dispute, whether
the case before them was of a _criminal_ or (as the _Inquirer_ expresses
it) of a _forensic_ nature.

It would have been hard indeed if a design so well laid, and so artfully
conducted, had failed of success. Accordingly, we find both the Lawyers
expressly declaring, that the case in question belonged to the 42d
_Statute_, and from thence seeming to infer, that an appeal is not to be
allowed.

Answers to the Queries.

    “To Q. I. I am of opinion, the Vice-chancellor’s authority in
    the case above stated is well founded by the 42d Statute, _de
    Cancellarii Officio_, and that the Vice-chancellor and his
    assessors acted under that Statute; and that this case does not
    fall under the 48th Statute. And I am of opinion that an appeal
    does not lie in the present case.

    “To Q. II. This in effect is answered by what I have said upon
    the first Question. And if an appeal might be allowed in the
    present case, it would be of most fatal consequence to all
    discipline in the University; since it would take away all
    distinction between the two Statutes; and every scholar, who
    should fall under any censure or punishment inflicted by the
    Vice-chancellor, might have his appeal; and the 42d Statute
    would be entirely of no effect.

                                     “_Dec. the 12th, 1750. W. N—._”

    “To Q. I. Upon consideration of the two Statutes above recited,
    it seems to me that the first was calculated to give a
    jurisdiction and power to the Chancellor, or, in his absence,
    to the Vice-chancellor, to interpose in criminal matters, _i.
    e._ in matters relating to discipline: the latter gives a
    jurisdiction or cognizance in civil matters, _i. e._ matters of
    controversy concerning civil rights: and therefore the first
    gives power, _contumaces, &c. suspensione graduum, carcere, aut
    alio leviori supplicio judicio suo castigare_: by the latter,
    power is given to determine _causas et lites_, _viz._ _causas
    forenses_, for that is the title of the Statute. As to the
    first, I think that the jurisdiction is final in the first
    instance: for his power is _judicio suo castigare_; and it must
    necessarily be so, for immediate imprisonment seems to be one
    of the punishments which he may inflict against which there
    can be no appeal, for it may be executed before there can be
    any appeal. As to the other, _viz._ the civil jurisdiction,
    there the statute requires speedy determinations; but gives an
    appeal from his sentences in _foro_, and prescribes the manner
    of appealing. Upon these principles, I think that no appeal can
    lie, the suspension of _A—_ being grounded, I think, on the
    Statute _de Cancellarii Officio_; and that this is not _causa
    forensis_ within the latter Statute.

    “To Q. II. If all offences against the Statutes are punishable
    by this Statute, the punishments for the _minora_, as well as
    the _majora delicta_, would be appealable; which I think would
    be absurd.

                         _Linc. Inn, Dec. the 13th, 1750. R. W—._”

It is seen that both these opinions rest on one common foundation, _viz._
that the 42d _Statute_ gives authority in none but _criminal_, the 48th
in none but _civil_ causes. Now if this support shall appear to be
wholly imaginary, all that is built upon it must fall to the ground. Let
us proceed then to examine the Statutes themselves; or rather simply
to represent what is contained in them. We shall have no occasion for
nice distinctions, or remote inferences; the plain literal sense of
the passages to be cited will overthrow at once the principle we are
opposing; will afford such an evidence as cannot be resisted, until a
method of interpreting shall be found out, wholly independent on the
received rules of Criticism and Grammar.

The 42d Statute is entitled _De Cancellarii Officio_, and contains
an enumeration of the various powers conferred on him by the
University. It gives him a right _to hear and decide controversies_;
_to call congregations_; _to give and refuse degrees_; _to punish the
transgressors of the Statutes_; _to see that the University officers do
their duty_; _to inflict censures on some particular sorts of offenders
therein named, in some cases with, in others without, the consent of
the Heads_; _to give or refuse leave to Members of the Senate to go out
of a Congregation before it is ended, and to impose a mulct on those
who depart without leave_; _to require the presence of regents and
non-regents at Congregations and_ Conciones ad clerum, _and to punish
the absent_; and, lastly, _to make new Statutes, with the consent of the
University_.

Now I think I may safely refer it to any reader, whether the single
design of this Statute was to convey authority in _criminal causes_? or,
whether it be not manifestly an enumeration of the various branches of
the Chancellor’s power, intended to give, at once, a general view of the
whole?

If any one shall think that the administration of _civil_ justice is not
here included, I must desire him to read again the very _first_ clause.
_Cancellarius potestatem habebit ad_ OMNES—_controversias—tum audiendas
tum dirimendas_. Nothing sure but the most outrageous zeal for a
desperate cause can make any one affirm that the word _controversias_ is
necessarily confined to the _trials of offenders_. But, if not, then the
Statute gives jurisdiction of both sorts, in civil as well as criminal
causes.

With as little foundation has it been asserted that the jurisdiction
given in the 48th Statute relates only to _civil causes_. The single
ground of this assertion is the title of the Statute, _viz. De Causis
Forensibus_. It happens that a certain set of men, by endeavouring for a
long time to deceive others, have in the end deceived themselves. For I
would, in charity, suppose them to be sincere, when they translate _causæ
forenses_, _causes between party and party_. It is true, no such use of
the words can be found in ancient authors, or, in what might have been
more convincing to them, modern Dictionaries. But what then? Admitting
that a school-boy would have construed these words _trials in court_,
or _public trials_, yet this sure cannot be alledged as a precedent to
grave and wise men: much less can it be expected they should reverence
quotations drawn from heathen writers, who had no idea at all of the ways
of supporting discipline in an University.

But if the _title_ of the 48th _Statute_ will not confine the
jurisdiction it gives, what shall we say to the Statute itself? It
begins with these plain words, never afterwards restrained or limited,
OMNES _causæ et lites, quæ ad Universitatis notionem pertinent, tam
Procancellarii quam Commissarii judicio subjiciantur_. If this clause
be not general, I should be glad to know whether a general clause be
possible? whether any words can be invented of sufficient extent to
include trials of every sort? But it is not indeed to be thought strange
that the same profound critics, who would confine _omnes controversiæ_
to _criminal_ causes, should confine _omnes causæ et lites_ to _civil_
causes only.

After all, I have a good mind to give up this point, for the sake only
of trying the experiment, what advantage can be made of it: Let it,
then, be supposed that the jurisdiction given in the 48th _Statute_, and
the appeals allowed in it, belong only to _civil_ causes; and let it
be further supposed that the 42d Statute relates merely to _criminal_
causes. What will follow? That the Queen’s _Statutes_ allow no appeals,
for _that the omission in this Statute amounts to a prohibition_? Nothing
can be wider from the truth than this conclusion. For, 1st, the powers
given to the Chancellor may not be exercised in an arbitrary manner, but
in strict conformity to the customs and privileges of the University:
If this restriction were not always to be understood, the Chancellor
might confer _degrees_ by his _sole_ power; for no mention is made in
the Statute of the consent of the University. The powers, then, here
given to the Chancellor are to be _limited_ by the known rights of the
_Senate_; and among these rights no possible reason can be given why that
of _appeals_ should not be included: a right (as will presently appear)
of very great antiquity, perhaps not less ancient than the University
itself. 2dly. The very same clause which impowers the Chancellor to
judge _omnes controversias Scholasticorum_, that is (as we are now to
render the words) _all offences committed by Scholars_, requires him to
judge _secundum jus civile et eorum privilegia et consuetudines_; and
consequently to judge not finally, but under an obligation of having his
sentence _re-examined_ on an appeal made to the University.

There is another argument in Mr. _W—’s_ opinion, which seems indeed at
first sight, to be more specious. He observes that the Chancellor is
to punish _contumacy_ and some other _offences judicio suo_, and seems
to think these words might be intended to prevent _appeals_. But the
learned person must excuse my differing from him also upon this head. The
Queen’s Statute _De Off. Cancell._ is copied, with some alterations, from
a Statute upon the same subject in the _first_ collection, she gave the
University; as that was _verbatim_ from one of King _Edward’s_. In this
Statute the Chancellor was empowered to punish _judicio suo et assensu
majoris partis præfectorum collegiorum_; that is, he was appointed
_judge_, they _assessors_. But the latter Statute of Queen _Elizabeth
distinguished_ these punishments into two sorts, regard being had to the
importance of the punishments themselves, and to the rank and condition
of the offender. In causes of less moment, and towards offenders of
inferior rank, the Chancellor was to proceed _judicio suo_; in others,
_non sine consensu præfectorum collegiorum_. These _two_ clauses being
so manifestly _opposed_, we cannot surely mistake, if we interpret the
former _by his sole judgment_, or _by his single authority_; and suppose
that nothing further was intended than to enable him to pass sentence,
_without_[99] the concurrence of the Heads; a circumstance which will
never shew that his decision ought to be _final_.

There is one point more in which I cannot help dissenting from the
gentleman last named. He seems to think there can be no appeal from
a sentence of imprisonment; because such sentence is to be executed
_immediately_. But I need not observe to so good a judge, that an appeal
_apud acta_ may suspend this execution; and he has not favoured us with
his reasons why this manner of appealing may not be allowed (as it always
has been allowed) in the University.

As to the _second Query_, it is a doubt altogether superfluous; and
seems to have been proposed for no other reason than to obtain opinions
concerning the _expediency_ of appeals; which is not surely a point of
_law_. The learned gentleman, who has declared his sentiments on the
question, must therefore pardon us if we do not receive them with the
same deference, as if the subject had fallen within the proper limits of
his profession.

But I think it unnecessary to dwell any longer on these _Queries_, or
the _Answers_ to them; since it is clear that the learned persons were
abused by a partial and unfair representation of the case; of which had
they been fully informed, as they should have been, by laying before
them a just view of the question in debate, and by furnishing them with
the proper materials for decide upon it; there is no reason to doubt
that persons, so eminently qualified to judge of all disputes of this
nature, would have given much more satisfactory opinions about it, and
such as the University might safely admit, as decisive in the present
case. And I think myself authorized to say this the more confidently, as
it luckily happens that the _proper_ Queries concerning this very point
were, some years ago, put more honestly by a very excellent person, at
that time Vice-chancellor of the University; and therefore answered very
_differently_ by the greatest Lawyer[100] of this or any age; from whose
decision though there lies an appeal, yet his sentence never _was_, as
indeed no good man had ever cause to wish it _should_ be, reversed.

These Queries, together with the Answer of this great person to them,
I purpose laying before the Reader, as a full and perfect confutation
of all that has been yet advanced against the _right of appeal to the
University_; and carrying with it more authority than any thing which
the most knowing academical advocate could possibly say for it. But, that
the reader may come the better prepared to judge of the merits of his
determination, and as some further support to it, for the satisfaction of
such as are unacquainted with the state of the case itself, I have judged
it not improper, in the first place, to draw together _a brief historical
account of the jurisdiction of the University_; collected from authentic
monuments, which are well known to such as are versed in academical
matters; and which, if there shall be occasion, will be produced at large
in a more proper place.

The University of _Cambridge_ was possessed of a jurisdiction over its
own members, as _clerici_, many years before _any_ was granted to it by
charter from the Crown. This jurisdiction, being ecclesiastical, seems to
have been originally derived from the Bishop of the diocese. The causes
cognisable by the University were chiefly causes of correction; the rule
of proceeding in the Court was the ecclesiastical law, and Statutes
of their own making, consonant to that law. The censures inflicted
upon offenders were either ecclesiastical, _viz._ _excommunication_,
_suspension_, &c.[101] or such as were appointed by the Statues for
particular crimes; and the names of _places_, _offices_, _pleaders_, the
same as are used in Ecclesiastical Courts to this day.

This jurisdiction was not usually exercised by the University in its
_collective_ capacity. But a particular officer was empowered to exercise
it, under the name of _Chancellor_; who as _official_[102], acted by
an authority derived to him from the University, was accountable to
them for the use of it, and liable to have his acts annulled at their
discretion; every person who thought himself aggrieved by the Chancellor
being at liberty to apply to the Body for redress.

When an _Appeal_ was brought before the University, they usually
authorized Delegates to hear and judge it, as was agreeable to the
practice in other Ecclesiastical Courts.

The jurisdiction here described was not originally independent; for no
academical decision appears to have been _final_. An Appeal always lay
from the judgement of the University by their Delegates to the Bishop of
the diocese, till the University was exempted from his authority, and
their jurisdiction made _final_ by Royal Charters, confirmed by Act of
Parliament.

In the reign of _Henry_ III. attempts were made to carry Appeals
_directly_ from the Chancellor to the Bishop, and so to pass over the
Appeal to the University, which ought to have been an intermediate step.
But _Hugh de Balsam_, Bishop of _Ely_ (the founder of _Peter-House_), by
a rescript, dated Dec. 1264, entirely frustrated all such attempts.

Hitherto, the Appeals to the University had been from _causes of
correction and censure_. The University was not as yet possessed of
jurisdiction in civil causes. Scholars were first allowed to implead
the burgesses and other laics of the town of _Cambridge_, in all kinds
of personal actions, before the Chancellor of the University, _anno_
33 _Ed._ I. From that time, the University began to acquire a civil
jurisdiction, which, by degrees, was inlarged and established by grants
from the Crown in succeeding reigns. And now, in consequence of this
jurisdictions, Appeals were extended from criminal to civil causes.
Accordingly, in a rescript of _Simon de Montacute_, Bishop of _Ely_,
which bears date _16 cal. April, anno 1341_, there is express mention of
Appeals to the University in causes of _both_ kinds. For the design of
this _rescript_ is to commission the University to determine _finally_ in
all _civil_ causes, without a further Appeal to his Court; and to prevent
frivolous and vexatious Appeals from the University to him in _criminal_
causes, by laying the Appellant under the obligation of an oath.

This addition of _civil_ power did by no means abrogate or lessen the
_spiritual_. We find, in the reign of _Hen._ VI. that all sorts of
ecclesiastical authority were adjudged to belong to the University,
by the Prior of _Barnwell_, the Pope’s delegate; and it was then made
appear, that all these branches of power had both been claimed and
exercised time out of mind. It is certain, the _probate of wills_ hath
at all times belonged, and still belongs, to the University. The power
of _excommunication_ was exercised as late as the reign of _Hen._ VIII.
and the power of _absolution_ is exercised at this day. This ceremony is
constantly performed on the concluding day of each term. And here, to
observe it by the way, gentle Reader, a goodly and reverend spectacle it
is, to behold the spiritual Head of our University spreading his paternal
hands, like another Pope, over his erring and misguided flock, who, in
all humility, receive his ghostly absolution on their knees.

It is true, the new objects of litigation, introduced by the royal
charters, occasioned an alteration in the _Law_ of the University. For
the ecclesiastical laws did not suffice for the decision of controversies
about civil rights, particularly contracts between scholars and townsmen,
and breaches of the peace. From the time, therefore, that these new
causes came before the Chancellor, to the reign of _Edward_ VI. his Court
was directed, as our Spiritual Courts are now, by a mixed kind of law,
made up of canon and civil law[103]. Yet this must not be understood
without restriction. For the University, like other corporations, had all
along a power of making _local Statutes_; and not unfrequently particular
_usages_ acquired the force of Statutes, from long continuance.

But whatever changes were made, either by express Statute, or in
consequence of a more extended jurisdiction, the practice of appealing
from the Chancellor to the University still continued; only, as was
observed, with this difference, that it now was allowed in civil, as
before it had been in criminal causes.

The right of appeal which then subsisted received a fresh confirmation
from the Statutes made by the University itself. In these Statutes the
right is not only referred to and presupposed, but directions are given
in regard to the manner of exercising it[104]; which directions, till
cancelled by succeeding Statutes, established the right as effectually
as if it had been originally introduced by Statute. The times when many
of these Statutes were made cannot be fixed; but it is certain they were
collected and transcribed into the Proctors’ books between the year 1490
and 1500.

In the reign of _Edward_ VI. a body of new Statutes was given in a
Visitation under an ecclesiastical commission; which enjoined, among
other things, that the jurisdiction of the University should be directed
by the _Civil Law_; that is, as every one understands, a mixture of the
Civil and Canon Law; or what _Oughten_ calls _Jus Ecclesiastico-Civile_;
the same which prevails in all Ecclesiastical Courts to this day. And,
in the first year of Queen _Elizabeth_, Statutes were again given to the
University in a Visitation under a like commission; which were almost
an exact transcript of those before given in the reign of _Edward_ VI.
The right of appealing from the Chancellor to the University received no
alteration from these Statutes. For there is no change in either of them
by which such Appeals are forbidden or even restrained. Accordingly, the
practice appears to have continued to the time when Queen _Elizabeth_
gave her _second_ body of Statutes (under the broad seal indeed, but not
by Visitors under ecclesiastical commission), which was in the year 1570.
What alterations have been made by these, or by the practice of later
times, remains to be considered.

It is plain from several passages in Queen _Elizabeth’s_ new Statutes,
that many of the ancient Statutes and customs of the University were
designed to be continued; and in Stat. 50 we have a direction given, by
which we may understand what Statutes and customs were to be preserved,
and what not. Those only she declares to be taken away, _quæ Scripturis
Sacris, institutis nostris, istis Statutis adversari videbuntur_; of
which number the practice of appealing from the Chancellor to the
University was not one.

There is, besides, the less reason to imagine this practice was
abolished, because, in Stat. 42, the Queen requires all causes to
be heared and determined _secundum jus civile_; and in her Charter
to the University, confirmed by act of Parliament, _secundum leges
et consuetudines suas, ante tunc usitatas_, which, as appears, were
agreeable to the _Civil Law_. This _law_ allows Appeals in cases of
correction and censure; and therefore it is _certain_ that Appeals were
allowed by Queen _Elizabeth_.

Indeed, nothing but a clear and express prohibition could make us
imagine, that the right of appealing, a right of particular importance,
was designed to be either wholly abolished, or restrained only to civil
causes. And such prohibition, had it been the Queen’s intention to
forbid Appeals in any case, might the rather have been expected, as, in
the 48th Stat. where several directions are given concerning Appeals,
_one_ ancient usage of the University[105] in relation to them is
expressly forbidden: _nec secunda provocatio omnino admittatur_. Yet
she gives not the least hint of restraining Appeals to any particular
sorts of causes; which surely were an unaccountable omission in this
place, had she actually intended to lay them under any such restriction.
And, indeed, it is evident from a _MS._ of unquestioned authority, that
neither the Body of the University, nor the Heads themselves (some of
them supposed to have been concerned in compiling the Statutes), had
the least imagination of such restraint. What I mean is, a _MS._ in _C.
C. C. Library_, containing _some Complaints of several of the Body of
the University, in the year 1572, against Queen_ Elizabeth’s _second
edition of Statutes, and the Answers of the Heads, &c._ One of their
complaints is _the frustrating_ Appellations, by transferring the power
of nominating Delegates from the _Proctors_, in whose hands it was before
lodged, to the _Caput_; and by encreasing _the forfeit of Appeals_, from
a very inconsiderable sum to 20_s._ with an addition of 2_s._ to be paid
to the Proctor; an expence which, as was then urged by the Body, would
prevent _poor scholars injured from the benefit of appealing, having not
so much money_. What, now, is the answer of the Heads to this complaint?
Why, that, _for the stay of the quietness of the University_, it was
necessary to lay Appeals under these restrictions. Not a syllable is said
against the right of appeal itself in any case; though the complainants
had expressly set forth the importance of having Appeals unincumbered
by these limitations, for the _redress of wrongs_ in _general_. Nay,
the wrongs they apprehended are even specified; such as punishments _of
a regent in the regent-house, for modestly asking a question; or of a
disputer, for modestly disputing_; which, if we are to call them _causes_
at all, are surely _causes of correction_.

Nay, so far are these Statutes from _prohibiting_ Appeals, that they have
actually given the strongest sanction to this practice, by admitting the
right in very general terms, and prescribing rules for the exercise of
it. _Stat._ 48.

The subsequent practice till of late years cannot now be known, either
from the neglect or corruption of the University _Registers_, who have
not taken care to record the proceedings before Courts of Delegates.
Only a few loose papers have been accidentally preserved, from which it
appears that Appeals were allowed in _civil_ causes, and there is no
reason to imagine they were discontinued in causes of _correction_,
as no distinction was made by the Statutes on trials between civil and
criminal causes.

But if it were true in fact, that no Appeals had been heared between
1570 and 1725, in causes of correction and censure, yet this would not
affect the right, any more than the want of Appeals from a censure of a
_peculiar_ sort would render that single kind of censure unappealable.
For, a right extending to various particulars will not surely be lessened
from want of opportunity or inclination to exercise it in _every one_ of
them. And such disuse would be the less strange in the instance before
us, because the discipline of the University hath been chiefly supported
by censures inflicted in particular Colleges. Little of this business is
left to the Vice-chancellor; and they who know the University, and wish
well to it, will not, perhaps, desire to see more of it in his hands.

If the supposed disuse of Appeals in criminal causes shall yet be thought
to have abolished the _right_, the opinion now to be produced will at
once remove such suspicion; even though it should not be insisted, as it
may, that this pretended prescription itself is already destroyed, by
_three_ instances of Appeals in _causes of correction_, the first of them
in the year 1725.

But, before I proceed any further, I would beg leave to make one
_general_ observation on what hath been now advanced. It is this: A great
Civilian had expressly affirmed, “_that Appeals are always admitted in
those Courts where the civil and ecclesiastical Laws are in force, where
penance, suspension, deprivation, or any censure is inflicted as the
punishment of a fault_[106].”

To all which the writer of _the Inquiry_ gives his entire assent: _The
observation_, says he, _is undoubtedly just_. Now the capable and
impartial reader is left to judge, whether it be not most evident, from
the _facts_ here offered to his consideration, that the jurisdiction of
the University is, in the properest sense of the word, _Ecclesiastical_;
and further, whether the _Civil_ and _Ecclesiastical Laws_ be not _of
force_ in the University Court. The dispute then is brought to a short
issue. _Appeals are_, by the full consent Of the Inquirer himself, _to be
admitted_.

I come now to the OPINION itself; of which I will only say, further,
that it was not given by the great person hastily or negligently, but
with all the care and deliberation which so important a matter deserved:
as is clear, not only from his diligence in calling for and inspecting
the _Commissary’s Patent_, which, he clearly saw, was of moment to
the determination, but from the time he took to consider it. For the
_Queries_ appear to have been put some time before _Christmas_; and this
Opinion bears date the 18th of _March_ following.

    _Qu._ I. “Whether Appeals to Delegates by the Statute _de
    causis forensibus_ are restrained to _civil causes_, in which
    two parties are litigant?”

    _Ans._ The Statute _de causis forensibus_ is penned in such
    general terms, that I think the Appeal to Delegates thereby
    allowed cannot be restrained to civil causes only, wherein two
    parties are litigant, but doth extend to causes of correction
    and censure; the rather because the Appeal from the Commissary
    to the Vice-chancellor is given in the same clause, and in
    the same manner, with the Appeal from the Vice-chancellor to
    Delegates; and the words of the Commissary’s Patent extend
    as well to causes of correction and censure as to civil
    causes. Now there can be no doubt but that an Appeal lies
    from the Commissary to the Vice-chancellor in all cases.
    The entry in Mr. _Tabor’s_ Register imports that, even in
    causes of correction, an Appeal lies from the sentence of the
    Vice-chancellor, when he doth not act jointly with the major
    part of the Heads of houses.

    _Qu._ II. “Whether by the Statute _de Cancellarii officio_,
    which binds the Vice-chancellor to proceed _secundum jus
    civile_, an Appeal to Delegates can now lie in a criminal cause
    against a prescription of 200 years to the contrary, excepting
    only the case of _Campbell_, _anno_ 1725?”

    _Answ._ There can be no prescription in this case, because the
    question depends on Statutes, given within such a space of
    time, as the Law calls, _time of memory_.

    _Qu._ III. “In case the Delegates should receive an Appeal,
    from the Vice-chancellor’s court in a cause of this kind,
    and cite the Vice-chancellor to appear before them, what the
    Vice-chancellor should do? Whether appear before them, and
    appeal from the sentence of the Delegates to his Majesty in
    council; or not appear, but apply immediately to his Majesty
    by petition; praying a prohibition, to stop the proceedings of
    the Delegates?”

    _Answ._ Supposing that there is a right of appealing to
    Delegates, from the sentence of the Vice-chancellor, in a cause
    of correction or censure, no authority can be interposed to
    stay the Delegates from proceeding. But if the Delegates should
    not have a jurisdiction, his Majesty in council cannot grant
    a prohibition to them: and if upon an incident of this kind,
    the Vice-chancellor should think fit to bring the point to a
    judicial determination; the only proper method, is by applying
    to some of the courts at _Westminster_, for a prohibition to
    the Delegates proceeding.

                                                    _18 March 1730._

The reader sees, by this determination, that the question turns entirely
upon this point; whether, supposing there had been no Appeals in cases of
discipline from the year 1570 to 1725, as is asserted, but without proof,
the intermission of the exercise of this right for so long a space, could
amount to a legal abolition of it. To which the great Lawyer, whose
Opinion has been recited, replies expressly, NO. If any should then
ask, what evidence there is of such a _right_ subsisting at that time?
Besides the Statutes themselves, insisted on in the Opinion, I can now
refer him to the brief hints which compose the preceding account of the
jurisdiction of the University; and which the reader may be assured, are
advanced on the best grounds. Much more might, indeed, have been said;
for what I have thought fit to deliver at present on the subject, is but
a small part of that evidence, which can and will be produced, if it be
found expedient to do it. In the mean while, I may well excuse myself
from this trouble. For to talk further on these matters to a person,
who appears so wholly ignorant of the History of the University, as the
_Inquirer_, were a vain waste of time; and to take the pains of confuting
particular objections, founded on that ignorance, a still vainer. Only
I will condescend to put him in mind of one essential defect in his
argument which runs through his whole pamphlet. It is, that he all along
goes on the supposition, that the _express_ authority of Statute, is
required to make good the claim to Appeals. And he therefore very idly
lays out his whole strength, in attempting to prove, that no such express
authority is to be found, either in the _old_ or _new_ Statutes. I own,
I could not but smile, at first, to observe the Inquirer addressing
himself, with so much importance, to this task. But, when afterwards I
came to consider, the labour and difficulty, with which he was forced to
make his way, for this wise purpose, through the _discouraging_ δυσνόητα
(for so I presently saw, he found them to be) of the _old Statutes_, I
could not, upon second thoughts, but pity his unnecessary sufferings
about them; and was even tempted in my own mind, to blame the waggery
of _the Fellow of a College_, whose request had drawn him into all this
trouble, and who, to divert himself with him, had plainly put him on
so wrong a scent. The truth is, I could not think this usage fair in
his _good friend, to request him to draw out his sentiments, on such a
point_; especially, as he tells us, his time was _so precious_, and that
he had so little of it to spare, amidst _the variety of his necessary
avocations_[107]. It had, surely, been more kind to inform him at
once, as I shall have the goodness to do, that no body, who understood
the matter in debate, ever pretended to found the right of Appeal on
_express_ Statute; it being well known, that the _right_ stands entirely
on the nature of our _jurisdiction_; in consequence of which, there has
been a continued immemorial practice of appealing in the University;
supposed indeed, and admitted in both the _old_ and _new_ Statutes, and
authorized by the prescription of various rules, for the exercise of it;
but neither expressly commanded, nor prohibited in either.

And now, having done this act of charity towards the _Inquirer_, which
may prevent his future pains, in puzzling and perplexing himself with the
study of the old Statutes; I shall have reason to expect, in return, his
good leave to expostulate with him pretty freely on the use, he proceeds
to make of this unhappy blunder. For, plumed with the vain conceit of
the University’s resting their claim on the sole express authority of
Statute, he goes on, to insult so considerable a body of men, in the
most opprobrious manner; as guilty of the most absurd and irreverent
behaviour, as well towards our illustrious Chancellor himself, as the
Vice-Chancellor, and his brethren, the Heads of Colleges. What I mean, is
in relation to the _Grace_, which the assertors of the right of appeal
thought fit to propose, in order to refer the decision of this point to
the arbitration of the Senate. He harangues, for several pages, on what
he calls, the irregularity and indecency of this proceeding; and affects
besides, to cavil at the substance of what was proposed in it. But, good
Sir, where was the _irregularity_ of the Senate’s presuming to confirm,
by their own authority, a _right_, essential to their constitution,
authorized by immemorial prescription; and which no single Statute, they
act under, in any degree contradicts? Or, where was the _indecency_ of
opposing the exercise of that power in the Vice-Chancellor, which is
inconsistent with the very nature of our jurisdiction; for which, he can
plead the sanction of _no_ Statute; and of which he was never rightfully
possessed?

As to the _Grace_ itself, the substance of what it proposed, was to
this effect: “That the right of appeal, from the sentence of the
Vice-Chancellor to the University in all cases, should be confirmed to
every member of the _University_; but that this _right_, with regard
to persons in _statu pupillari_, should be exercised only by the
tutor of each person, interposing in his name.” This, it seems, gives
great offence to the _Inquirer_; who, in his tender concern for the
authority of the supreme magistrate, is perfectly shocked, to think of
the consequences of such a right being acknowledged; and is prophet
enough to foresee, that it would bring the lowest disgrace upon his
office, by _warranting the arraignment of him_, as he puts it, _before
Delegates, upon no very important occasions_[108]. But his fears are
as groundless, as the insinuation, which he labours to convey under
them, is impudent and unjust. For, though an appeal be claimed _ab omni
gravamine utcunque illato_ (which sure is nothing but reasonable, as the
Statutes make no distinction, and the practice, as well as _Law_ of the
University, equally authorizes Appeals in every case) yet, why should
he throw himself into this unseasonable panic, when all _frivolous and
vexatious Appeals_ are expressly provided against, by a considerable
pecuniary caution, and when the Delegates themselves are, in effect, of
the supreme magistrate’s own appointment[109]? Would the members of the
Senate, does he think, appeal from any judicial sentence, though ever
so just and statutable, _on no very important occasion_, when a certain
expence is necessarily incurred, and when there could not be the least
hopes of redress? Or, would any tutor can he imagine, who has a character
to maintain, and who is not less concerned to support good order and
discipline, than the supreme magistrate himself, interpose his claim of
Appeal for his pupil, without, at least, some fair and reasonable grounds?

But the insinuation, as I observed, is still more impudent, than his
apprehensions are groundless. For what he would covertly signify under
this impertinent sollicitude for the honour of the supreme magistrate,
is, that the Delegates, who are the representatives of the collective
body of the University, are unworthy to take cognizance in any case of
the acts of their _officer_[110]: Nay, that the members of the Senate
itself are a company of factious, disorderly, licentious boys; who are
impatient of any authority themselves, and would be sure to concur in
all cases to countenance the irregularities of one another, or of the
youth of the place; by setting them loose from all restraint, which
the Statutes and discipline of the University have provided against
them. There is something so outrageously insolent in this abuse of the
body of the University; a body consisting of _three or four hundred
persons_; the youngest of which is of the degree of _Master of Arts_;
almost all of them _clergymen_; and the greater part of _equal age_,
and it may therefore be presumed of _equal prudence_, as many of the
Heads themselves; that I should be cautious of charging it upon him, if
he had not expressed himself in terms too clear to be mistaken. For he
has the assurance to advance in so many words, that “_if the person who
apprehends himself to be aggrieved_, may happen to be a member of the
Senate, and, _as such_, may possibly _bear with indignation the thought
of having any part of his conduct judicially animadverted upon_; if it
be further considered, that his _particular friends and acquaintance_
may possibly think the same in his case, and that _all the advocates
for, and the warm assertors of independency_ will be sure to think so in
every case, I do and must say, _&c._” And, again, in the words of the
very provident Mr. _Tabor_, a little doting registrary of the University,
a century or two ago; whose mumpings this writer has the confidence
to oppose, to the united sense of the University, at this day: “What
dangerous cure does that state hazard, when for the sullen distemperature
of one active member, the ruling head must bleed, that suffereth enough
otherwise; and all the discontented parts of the body must sit in
judgment on it; nay when _Sense_ must disapprove or disallow the _acts
of Reason_? If this Appeal be suffered and countenanced to pass current,
farewell the power of Chancellor and Vice-chancellor; _my young masters
of the regent house_ will and must judge, examine, and rule all; yea,
_their_ censures or judgments must stand or be disallowed at their will
and pleasure. Good Sir! by all means labour to smother this _Hydra_; it
will have more heads than we shall overcome, and breed a greater mischief
than we are aware, in these times of liberty and discontent[111].”

Such are the sentiments of this forward Inquirer of the Senate of the
University of _Cambridge_: sentiments, which must needs create in the
breast of any man of sense, who is a mere stranger to us, the strongest
resentment; and for his public declaration of which, were the author
known and considerable enough, he would judge him to deserve the severest
censure, the University has it in its power to inflict. But what must
those think, who have an opportunity of knowing the _characters_ of
the men, whom he thus vilely traduces? Almost all of them fellows of
colleges, many of them tutors, whose sobriety and good behaviour have
recommended them to places of trust and profit in their respective
colleges: Men, who are under the obligation of oaths, to maintain and
promote statutable discipline, and regularity; who are trained in the
habit of restraining and correcting academical disorders of all kinds;
and whose situations and interests require them to be as watchful
to support just authority and good order, at least, as the Heads of
Colleges, or the officers of the University themselves. And the censure
is the more grievous at this time of day, when, by the confession of the
partizans of the Heads themselves[112], extorted by the very evidence of
fact and truth, there never was a time in which the elder part of the
University were more sober, temperate, and regular; when fewer excesses
of any kind were chargeable on the fellows of colleges; or, indeed,
when they were more prudent and exemplary, in their behaviour, in all
respects. But the charge is not only unjust, but has a direct tendency to
discredit and destroy that reasonable authority in the University, which
this prater, if he means any thing by his talk, would seem ambitious to
support. For how is the great affair of education and good government
in this place to be carried on, but by means of those very persons,
whom he would represent in so ignominious a light? For, certainly, how
much soever the University may owe to the Heads of Colleges, in their
capacity of _legislators_, yet, for the _execution_ of those laws which
it seemeth good to their wisdoms to enact, they must still depend on
the concurrence, I had almost said, on the sole authority of their
_inferiors_. And how shall such authority be kept up, when they are
thus upbraided, as abettors of every act of licence; and represented to
the younger part of the University, as patronizers of that ungoverned
independent spirit, which it is their office to restrain? Nor can I think
so ill of the policy of these great lawgivers, as to believe that they
will chuse to concur with this officious _Inquirer_, in representing them
in such a light. For what will become of that balmy ease and quiet, in
which these sovereign guides of youth so delight to wrap themselves, if
the care of government must, after all, devolve on their shoulders; when
a course of injurious calumnies shall have disabled their subordinate
ministers from taking their place, and bearing, as at present they most
commonly do, the full weight of it?

But to return to the _Grace_ itself, from which this reviler’s treatment
of the whole body of the University has a little diverted me. He labours
much, as I observed, to impress on the reader’s mind the opinion of
the frightful consequences with which a right of Appeal in all cases
would be attended; and to give a sanction to these fears, he alledges
the authority of _the learned gentlemen of the long robe_, who, it
seems, have pointed out the absurdity of such a practice, and the
pernicious effects of it[113]. But what is all this tragical declamation
to the purpose? Where is the sense, as I before asked, in supposing
the University Senate would concur in every attempt of its idle and
disorderly members to get themselves relieved from a deserved and
statutable censure? Or, how should those _learned gentlemen_, whose robe
he still hangs upon, be better able to judge of the expediency of this
practice than the Senate of the University itself? Indeed he thinks the
absurdity of this right of calling the supreme officer of the University
to account for his judicial determinations the more glaring, in as
much as, even in private colleges, _no act of discipline of the Head_,
he fancies, _was ever liable to be reversed by any of the subordinate
members_: nay, he is persuaded that his good friend, the Fellow of a
College, for whose instruction all this is designed, _were he even
authorized to new model the Statutes of his own College, would not chuse
to vest in his brethren the Fellows such a power of controuling the acts
of the Master_[114]. What the Colleges are which are here glanced at, and
which leave the Master full power to exercise every act of discipline
without controul, the _Inquirer_ himself best knows. For my part, I have
always understood that _acts of censure_ in all private societies, such
acts I mean as are of consequence to the reputation and interests of
their members, are not left to the caprice of the Master, but are passed
by the joint authority and concurrence of the Society itself; unless,
perhaps, I am to except one _little_ College, in which, it is said, the
Master claims to himself this sovereign and uncontroulable authority.
But, then, this is no fair precedent. For the members of the College have
nothing to apprehend from a licentious and wanton abuse of _such power_;
as well on account of the known candour, equity, and moderation of the
worthy president of that society, as for that a few exertions of it would
leave him no subjects to preside over.

But, whatever may be the case of this _one_ foundation, the despotic
form is not, I believe, statutable in any other. Nay, the authority of
the fellows to controul the acts of their Head in some Colleges, I have
been told, goes so far, that they are even impowered, in case of an
_utter inability_ (such as may arise from extreme folly, dotage, or the
like) _to govern prudently_, to remove him forthwith from his place. And
surely this must be deemed a wise and sober institution; at least, were I
_authorized to new model the Statutes of any College which wanted it, it
is such an one as I should certainly chuse to vest in it_.

But there is one circumstance in the _Grace_ which, it seems, provokes
his more _especial dislike_. And, unluckily, it is one which any other,
who considered the tenor of it, would be likely enough more especially
to approve; as shewing the singular moderation and good temper of the
persons who proposed the _Grace_, and as studiously contrived to prevent
all imaginable abuses of it. It is, that _the right of undergraduates
to appeal should be exercised no otherwise than by the interposition
of their tutors_[115]. A provision of great prudence; and which the
proposers of the _Grace_, in their concern to support authority and
just government, purposely made to obviate the only abuses that could
be possibly apprehended from it. For, if the wanton exercise of the
_right to appeal_ were to be feared from any quarter, it certainly must
be from the inferior members; whose youth and inexperience might make
them forward to appeal from any censure, however reasonable, and of
which, therefore, the _tutor_ of the person censured, who is under all
the ties of interest and duty to act discreetly and warily, is left to
judge. Yet this provision, wise and moderate as it is, _appears to the
Inquirer extremely strange; because, by means of such a limitation, a
tutor might prevent his pupil from appealing in any case, though the
supreme Magistrate of the University would be empowered to prevent it
in none_. As if the judge who passed the sentence, and was therefore
concerned to support it, were as fit to determine, whether the party
aggrieved should have the liberty to appeal from it, as an indifferent
person who had no concern at all in it. Nay, the tutor, as was observed,
would be obliged, by a regard to his own authority and character, and
(I would add, but that the _Inquirer_ is pleased to make no account of
that _obligation_[116]) by the _religion of an oath_, to proceed with all
imaginable caution in advising him to such a step.

In every view, then, this objection to the _Grace_ must appear very
unaccountable. And the rather, when the reader understands that this
clause was, with the greater readiness and pleasure, inserted into it,
as this Vice-chancellor himself, whose goodness and candour require no
encomiums of mine, had intimated, and even declared, that a provision
of this kind was all the restriction upon _the liberty of appealing_
which he wished to see made to it. For this excellent person was so much
convinced of the propriety and expediency of this claim in general, that
he very frankly professed his approbation of it, and only wanted to
secure his authority, where indeed the only danger lay, from a _torrent
of Appeals, which, as he apprehended, might pour in upon him from the
younger sort_. So that, I think, we shall hear no more of this objection;
and I am even not without the fond hopes, that, after this information,
the _Inquirer_ himself, whatever _displeasure_ he might conceive at this
part of the _Grace_ before, will now grow into good humour with it.

After all, one cannot but suspect, that the _Inquirer_ must have some
better reason for his strong antipathy to this _Grace_ than any that has
yet appeared. The violent heat it puts him into, whenever he touches upon
it, demonstrates, there must still be something at the bottom of this
matter, which is the object of just offence. In looking narrowly for
it, I found it at last, half smothered under a very shrewd and indirect
insinuation, which I shall bring to light, after having presented the
reader with his own words:

    “I see not how a Grace of this kind could be offered,
    consistently with the Resolution said to have been taken at one
    of your first meetings, to assert the right of Appeal in such
    a manner as was warranted by the Statutes of the University:
    Nor am I less able to reconcile it with those professions of
    deference and respect, which at the same time were thought
    proper to be made for our great and illustrious Chancellor. No
    person would receive a greater pleasure than myself from seeing
    all the members of the University, however divided in other
    points, agreed in entertaining the highest sentiments of regard
    and veneration for him; but I confess, that this is a pleasure
    I am not very likely to have; till one set of men shall be
    pleased to give clearer and less questionable testimonies of
    this, than by opposing every useful regulation he recommended,
    and endeavouring to lessen and curtail an authority, which is
    only vested in the Vice-chancellor as his representative and
    locum-tenens[117].”

Here, then, we have all the venom of his heart injected into one
malignant paragraph; which, under the gilding of a compliment, is to do
its office without offence. And yet, it is plain enough what he would
insinuate. It is neither more nor less than that the advocates for this
right of Appeal are an unquiet, factious set of persons, bent on opposing
all measures that tend to promote the good of the University; and, to say
all in one word, listed in a vile cabal to dishonour, revile, and abuse
their Chancellor himself. The gentlemen against whom all this is levelled
must, I am persuaded, hold such senseless and licentious calumnies in
such contempt, that I should not merit their thanks for attempting
seriously to confute them. And yet I cannot help saying for them, that
the _Resolution_ hinted at in this place was drawn up with so respectful
a regard to the authority of the Statues, and to the honour and dignity
of our great Chancellor, as, one should think, might stop the mouth of
Malice itself. Yet all this can be overlooked by our candid Inquirer. And
on what pretence? Why, because some of those persons, who came to such
a _Resolution_, had different sentiments, it seems, of the expediency
of the late regulations from this writer; and because this claim of
Appeals tends to lessen the authority of the Vice-chancellor. For this he
modestly calls _opposing the Chancellor, and curtailing his power_.

Well, then, the crime is now out; and, to say the truth, if it be a
crime, the University is deeply involved in it. For, when the late
_regulations_ were first proposed to the consideration of the Senate, a
considerable majority were clearly of the same opinion as these culprits:
and, with regard to the present claim, the University may be almost said
to be _unanimous_ in supporting it. But what in the mean time must be
this scribbler’s sentiments of that most noble and illustrious person,
for whose honour he here professes himself concerned; and of whom, it
seems, he can think so unworthily, as to believe, that a liberty in
judging concerning the expediency of some academical laws, which he had
the goodness to propose to them, should give offence to one who has no
other aim than to serve the University in a manner the most agreeable
to their best judgments; and which, I am satisfied, they used the
more freely, on a full persuasion that such liberty could not be taken
as an instance of disrespect to him. This I should not doubt to call,
of itself, a sufficient confutation of the idle calumny. But it comes
with the worst grace imaginable from a declared enemy to _the right of
Appeals_; who must know, if he be at all acquainted with what passed at
that time, that the principal reason, which induced the University to
oppose the _regulations_, was the just apprehension they were under, of
an encroachment on this _very right_; not indeed from the Chancellor,
who had no such intention, nor even any knowledge of it, but from
certain forward directors in that affair, who gave the _clearest and
least questionable_ proofs of their designing to make the _new laws_ the
instruments of their own tyranny in this respect. So that, if any offence
_was_ given by the University on that occasion, the blame of it should
fall elsewhere, and not on those on whom it is here so invidiously cast;
persons, who on every occasion have testified the sincerest honour for
their Chancellor, who venerate him as the protector and patron of the
University, and would humbly co-operate with him to the attainment of
those good ends, which it is his sole endeavour to promote.

But what follows, if possible, is still worse. A _second charge_
against the University is, that they are _endeavouring to lessen and
curtail an authority, which is only vested in the Vice-chancellor, as
his representative and locum tenens_. What the collective body would
return to this accusation, I pretend not to say; I have no commission to
answer in their name. But, for myself, and those whose thoughts I have
the opportunity of knowing on this matter, I answer boldly thus: That
we are not in the least apprehensive of giving offence to this great
person, who is more solicitous for the maintenance of the just rights
of the University than any other member of it, by any respectful and
moderate endeavours to assert our own reasonable privileges; that we are
well assured, he approves, and is ready to countenance, all such honest
endeavours; and that, lastly and _chiefly_, we are _therefore_ earnest in
our endeavours to lessen an authority (if that must be called _lessening_
which is but preventing its being usurped), because it _is_ vested in,
and must be constantly exercised _by his representative_. For, whatever
liberties he may presume to take with the assertors of this claim, I
will venture to assure him, that, were unappealable power itself to
be exercised only by our Chancellor, who is too high in rank, and too
noble in nature, to be under any temptations of abusing it, though we
might still think the authority unreasonable and dangerous in itself, we
should esteem ourselves in perfect security under him, and could safely
trust the administration of it to his care. But, as the person who by
our Constitution is vested with it, is and must be a very imperfect
_representative_ of the Chancellor, in this as well as other respects, we
hope to be forgiven by every equitable judge, if we are not forward to
_compliment_ ourselves out of our privileges; and have little inclination
to lodge our liberties in less worthy hands.

After all, one would be glad to know a little more explicitly of this
writer, since he professes himself so little satisfied with the conduct
of the University, what those _clearer and less questionable testimonies_
of their regard for the Chancellor are which he so loudly calls for,
and the want of which, it seems, hath made his life so distasteful and
uneasy to him. And, I think, I durst almost take upon me to guess at
them. No doubt, they are such as these: “That the University Senate
would be pleased to make no distinction in any case between the supreme
Magistrate and his representative, nay, and his representative’s
_representatives_”—“That they would courteously give that honour to his
_locum tenens_ or _locum tenentes_, without perhaps one single merit to
justify such a claim, which the illustrious rank and dignity of their
Chancellor himself, his eminent virtues, and services to the University,
all conspire to challenge and demand from them:”—In a word, “that the
University would offer themselves as willing instruments to carry into
execution every paltry project, every low and selfish design, which
little men in office are apt to form for themselves; and all this under
the notion of its being a tribute of respect to the supreme Magistrate,
and an instance of their veneration for him.”

Such as these, I can readily believe, are the _testimonies_ of respect
the _Inquirer_ wishes to see paid to the Chancellor, and which, no doubt,
would administer that sincere pleasure, which at present he divines
(and, I trust, truly) _he is not very likely to have_. But does he think
the Chancellor is to be abused by this thin pretence of respect? that
true greatness is to be taken by this mere outside of an officious and
false compliment? On the other hand, I dare be confident that nothing is
more disgusting to him than such sycophancy; and that he is so far from
allowing this conduct in the _Inquirer_, that he even disdains to have
his cause and dignity so defended. “For, though (to use my Lord _Bacon’s_
words on a like occasion) I observe in his book many glosses, whereby
the man would insinuate himself into his favour, yet I find it to be
ordinary, that many pressing and fawning persons do misconjecture of the
humour of men in authority; and many times seek to gratify them with that
which they most dislike.”

But the virulence of these malignant calumnies hath held me on a very
unnecessary argument too long: I return again to the _Inquirer_, to whom
I have but one word or two more to say, and shall then take my final
leave of him.

You have talked, Sir, very importantly of the pernicious consequences
of a right of Appeal in the University. The reasons on which you would
ground these so anxious fears have been examined, and exposed, as they
deserve. But, granting that some slight, nay, that some considerable
inconveniencies might arise from it; were this any good argument, think
you, against the subsistence of such a right? What would become of all
the liberties which just government leaves us, nay, of the blessings and
privileges which indulgent nature bestows upon us, if the accidental and
occasional abuse of them were thought a reason sufficient to extort them
out of our hands? Should you not have considered that a _right of Appeal_
is one of the most important and valuable rights which mankind enjoy in
society, and which, indeed, is almost essential to the very being of
it? And would you have this sacred claim, _patronam illam et vindicem
libertatis_, as a great ancient calls it, rudely and inhumanly wrested
from us, on the frivolous pretence of some possible or even probable
abuse? Had you been as conversant in the civil law as an _Inquirer_
into such a question should have been, you might have found cause to
entertain very different opinions of it. For the great masters in that
science were as well aware as you can be, that such a right was liable to
some abuse; but which of them ever thought this consideration of force
enough to decry or abolish it? On the other hand, they _acknowledge the
inconvenience_, yet assert and vindicate the _use_. Give me leave to
refer you to one passage (you will find _L._ 1. _D. De Appell._), very
express to this purpose. “Appellandi usus quam sit frequens quamque
NECESSARIUS, nemo est qui nesciat: quippe cum iniquitatem judicantium
vel imperitiam re corrigat; _licet nonnunquam bene latas sententias in
pejus reformet_, neque enim utique melius pronuntiat, qui novissimus
sententiam laturus est.” What will you say, now, to this? That _Ulpian_,
who affirmed it, was a factious, turbulent boy? one of those whom you
disgrace under the name of the _warm, assertors of independency_, and
_who bear with indignation the thought of having any part of their
conduct judicially animadverted upon_? I presume to think you would
hardly venture on this assertion. Nay, I please myself with hoping, that,
when you have well considered this so sage and venerable sentence of an
ancient Lawyer, you will even be disposed to abate of your vehemence in
declaiming against such as go on _his_ principles at this day.

Seriously, Sir, it is a bad cause you have engaged in; and, in mere
kindness to you, I would wish you to relinquish it with all speed. The
claim itself of _Appeals_, as I have had the honour to shew you, is of
long and ancient date; indeed as _ancient_ as the Constitution of the
_English_ government itself. Of what consequence you may chance to be
in your political capacity, it is impossible for me to say; if you are
of any, and should proceed in these _Inquiries_, I should go near to
apprehend that the _House of Commons_ itself might take umbrage at them;
for the rise of that great part of our Constitution is not usually,
I think, carried higher than the point from which the right of Appeal
hath here been deduced. Or, do you think you may safely make free with
the Constitution of an University, though it were dangerous meddling
with that of the State itself? This may be true, indeed; but where is
your generosity in the mean time? Why should the thoughts of impunity
encourage you to such an attack on the rights and privileges of a body
of men, who, though unable to punish such offences against themselves as
they deserve, have yet been generally secured from all outrage, by the
very regard and reverence which the public hath ever paid to them? In a
word (for I would not hold you longer from your _necessary avocations_),
it may be worth your _inquiry_, when you shall think fit to sally forth
on another adventure, what the Learned of _Great Britain_ have done,
that they should have their liberties written and inveighed against in
so outrageous a manner; and, amidst the securest enjoyment of every
civil right, under the justest and most equal Government in the world,
what peculiar circumstances of offence have so inflamed the guilt of the
scholars of this land, that they, of _all_ his Majesty’s good subjects,
should deserve to be the only slaves.


FINIS.




  ON THE

  DELICACY

  OF

  FRIENDSHIP

  FIRST PRINTED IN 1755.




  ON THE

  DELICACY

  OF

  FRIENDSHIP.

  A SEVENTH DISSERTATION.

  ADDRESSED

  TO THE AUTHOR OF THE SIXTH.

  Si bene te novi, metues, liberrime Lolli,
  Scurrantis speciem præbere, professus Amicum.
                                           HOR.

  Nunc te _marmoreum_ pro tempore fecimus: at tu,
  Si fœtura gregem suppleverit, AUREUS esto.
                                            VIRG.




AN ADDRESS TO THE REV. DR. JORTIN.


REV. SIR,

As great an admirer as I must profess myself of your writings, I little
expected that any of them would give me the pleasure that I have just now
received from the last of your SIX DISSERTATIONS ON DIFFERENT SUBJECTS.

The other FIVE have doubtless their distinct merits. But in this,
methinks, I see an assemblage, a very constellation, as it were, of all
your virtues, all that can recommend the scholar or endear the friend.
This last, give me leave to say, is so unusual a part of a learned mind’s
character, and appears with so peculiar a lustre in this discourse,
that the public will not be displeased to have it set before them in
full view, and recommended to general imitation, with a frankness,
which though it may somewhat disgust your own delicacy, seems but very
necessary on such an occasion and in such times.

I leave it to others therefore to celebrate the happiness of your
invention, the urbanity of your wit, the regularity of your plan, the
address with which you conceal the point you aim at in this Dissertation,
and yet the pains you take in seeming obliquely to make your way to it.
These and many other beauties which your long study of the ancients hath
enabled you to bring into modern composition, have been generally taken
notice of in your other writings, and will find encomiasts enough among
the common herd of your readers. The honour I propose to do you by this
address is of another kind; and as it lies a little remote from vulgar
apprehension, I shall have some merit with you for displaying it as it
deserves.

To come to a point then, next to the total _want_ of FRIENDSHIP which
one has too much reason to observe and lament in the great scholars of
every age, nothing hath at any time disgusted me so much as the gross
indelicacy with which they are usually seen to conduct themselves in
their _expression_ of this virtue.

I have by me a large collection of the civil things which these lettered
friends have been pleased to say of one another, and it would amaze you
to see with what an energy and force of language they are delivered. One
thing I thought very remarkable, that the greater the parts and the more
unquestioned the learning and abilities of the encomiast, just so much
the stronger, that is to say, according to the usual acceptation, just so
much the more _friendly_ are his encomiums.

I have a great example in my eye. A man, for instance, hath a bosom
FRIEND, whom he takes for a person of the purest and most benevolent
virtue, presently he sets him down for such, and publisheth him to all
the world.—Or he hath an intimacy with an eminent POET: and no regard
to decency restrains him from calling him a great genius, as Horace,
you know, did his friend Virgil, almost to his face.—Or, he is loved
and honoured by a great LAWYER or two; and then be sure all the fine
things that have been said of your CICEROS, your SCÆVOLAS on your
HYDES, are squandered away upon them.—Or, he hath perchance the honour
of being well with a great CHURCHMAN, much famed for his political and
religious services; down he goes at once for a lover of his country, and
the scourge of infidels and freethinkers, with as little reserve as if
he had a JEROM or a father PAUL to celebrate.—Or, once or twice in his
life it hath been his fortune to be distinguished by great MINISTERS.
Such occasions are rare. And therefore a little gratitude, we will
say, is allowable. But can any thing be said for abominable formal
_dedications_?—Or, lastly, he thinks he sees some sparks of virtue even
in his ordinary acquaintance, and these, as fast as he observes them he
gathers up, and sticks, on the first occasion, in some or other of his
immortal volumes.

O Doctor Jortin! if you did but see half the extravagancies I have
collected of this sort in the single instance of one man, you would stand
aghast at this degree of corruption in the learned world, and would begin
to apprehend something of your great merit in this seasonable endeavour
to put a stop to its progress.

And what above all grieves me is that this is no _novel_ invention; for
then it might well have ranked with the other arguments of degeneracy so
justly chargeable on the present times; but the all-accomplished ancients
themselves have, to own the truth, set the example.

I took notice just now of the INGENIUM INGENS of Horace. The other poets
of that time abound in these fulsome encomiums. But I am even shocked to
think that such men as CICERO and PLINY, men so perfect, as they were, in
the commerce of the world, and from their rank and station, so practised
in all the decencies of conversation, were far gone in the folly. And yet
there are, in truth, more instances of this weakness in their writings
than in those of any modern I can readily call to mind.

Something I know hath been said in excuse of this _illiberal manner_,
from the VIEWS and CHARACTERS and NECESSITIES of those that use it. And
my unfeigned regard for the professors of learning makes me willing that
any thing they have to offer for themselves should be fairly heard.

They say then, and with some appearance of truth, that as all the benefit
they propose to themselves by their labours is for the most part nothing
more than a little _fame_ (which whether good or bad, as the poet
observes,

                              ——begins and ends
    In the small circle of our foes or friends.)

they think it hard to be denied this slender recompence, which each
expects in his turn, and should therefore be not unwilling to pay to
others.

They, further, alledge, that as they are generally _plain men_, much
given to speak their mind, and quite unpractised in the arts of that
chaste reserve and delicate self-denial, to which some few of their order
have happily habituated themselves, they hope to be forgiven so natural
an infirmity, to which the circumstances of their situation and character
fatally expose them.

But, lastly, they say, this practice is in a manner forced upon them by
the _malignity of the times_. Let a learned man deserve ever so well of
the public, none but those who are known to be of his acquaintance think
themselves at all concerned to take notice of his services. Especially
this is observed to be the constant humour of our countrymen, who rarely
speak well of any but their friends, as our polite neighbours rarely
speak ill of any but their enemies. Now this malevolent disposition
of the learned makes it necessary, they pretend, that such of them as
are connected by any bond of friendship should be indulged the greater
liberty of commending one another. Unless you will utterly exclude all
intercourse of praise and panegyric from human society, which they humbly
conceive may be attended with some few inconveniencies. To strengthen
this last observation they even add, that the public is usually more shy
in bestowing its praises on writers of eminent and superior merit than on
others. As well knowing, I suppose, that posterity will make them ample
amends for any mortification they may meet with at present; and that in
the mean time they are more than sufficiently honoured by the constant
railings and invectives of the dunces. Lastly, they observe, that in
the more frivolous and easy kinds of learning, such for instance as are
conversant about the collation of MSS, the rectification of POINTS, and
the correction of LETTERS, the general and approved custom is for all
professors of this class, whether friends or enemies, to cry up each
other as much as they please, and that it is even reckoned a piece of
incivility not to preface a citation from ever so insignificant a dealer
in verbal criticism with some superlative appellation. And why, say they,
should these nibblers of old books, “_These word-catchers that live on
syllables_,” be indulged in this amplitude of expression to one another,
when they who furnish the materials on which the spawn of these vermin
are to feed in after-ages, are denied the little satisfaction of a more
sizeable, as well as a more deserved praise?

I have not been afraid, you see, to set the arguments of these unhappy
advocates for themselves in as strong a light as they will well bear,
because I can easily trust your sagacity to find out a full and decisive
answer to them.

In the _first_ place, you will refer these idolaters of FAME, for their
better information, to that curious discourse on this subject, which
makes the _fourth_ in the present collection. Next you will tell them
that you by no means intend to deprive them of their just praise, but
that they must not set up for judges in their own case, and presume to
think how much of it they have reason to look for from their friends.
You will further signify to them that the truest office of friendship is
to be sparing of commendation, lest it awaken the envy of a malicious
world; that there is a kind of fascination in praise which wise men have
been justly suspicious of in all ages; and that a grain or two from those
who are not used to be prodigal of this incense, is an offering of no
small value. But chiefly and lastly, you will give them to understand
that true honour is seated not in the mouths but in hearts of men; and
that, for any thing they know, one may be forced to entertain the highest
possible esteem of their virtues, though, for their sakes, and for other
wise reasons, one has that virtuous command of one’s tongue and pen as
not to acquaint them with it.

Then, as to the _plainness_ and _openness of mind_ which is said to make
a part in the composition of a man of letters, you will tell them that
this is the very foible you most lament, and most wish them to correct:
that it exposes them to much censure and many other inconveniencies; that
this frankness of disposition makes them bestow their praises on those
whom the world has no such esteem for, or whom it would rather see left
in obscurity and oblivion; that they often disgust their betters by this
proceeding, who have their reasons for desiring that a cloud may remain
on the characters of certain obnoxious and dangerous writers; that by
such warm and unmanaged commendations they become partners, as it were,
of their ill deserts; that they even make themselves answerable for their
future conduct; which is a matter of so very nice a consideration, that
the great master of life, though he had not the virtue always to act
up to his own maxim, delivers it for a precept of special use in the
commerce of the world,

    QUALEM COMMENDES ETIAM ATQUE ETIAM ADSPICE.

For it signifies nothing in the case before us, whether the
recommendation be to a patron or the public.

For all these reasons you will assure them that this ill habit of
speaking their mind on all occasions, just as nature and blind friendship
dictate, is that which more than any thing else exposes them to the
contempt of knowing and considerate men.

_Lastly_, with regard to that other frivolous plea taken from the
_malignity of mankind_ and even those of their own family and profession,
you will convince them that this is totally a mistake, that the world
is ready enough to take notice of superior eminence in letters, that
it is even apt to grow extravagant in its admiration, and that this
humour of the public is itself a reason for that reserve with which their
friends, if they truly merit that name, ought to conduct themselves
towards them: that this splendour of reputation, which is so generally
the consequence of distinguished learning, requires to be allayed and
softened by the discrete management of those who wish them well, lest it
not only grow offensive to weak eyes, but dazzle their own with too fond
an imagination of their own importance, and so relax the ardour of their
pursuits, or betray them into some unseemly ostentation of their just
merits. You will farther suggest, that great atchievements in letters
are sufficiently recompenced by the silent complacency of self-esteem
and of a good conscience; while lesser services demand to be brought out
and magnified to public eye, for the due encouragement and consolation
of those who would otherwise have but small reason to be satisfied with
themselves. You might even observe, that silence itself is often a full
acknowledgment of superior desert, especially when personal obligations,
as well as other reasons, might provoke them to break through it. In such
cases it is to be understood, that, if a friend be sparing of his good
word, it is in violence to his inclination, and that nothing but the
tender apprehension of pushing an acknowledged merit too far, withholds
him from giving a public testimony to it. But, in conclusion, you will
not omit to set them right with regard to one material mistake in this
matter; that whereas they complain of the superior estimation in which
the professors of verbal criticism are held amongst us, whom with a
strange malignity they affect to represent as the very lowest retainers
to science, you, and all true scholars, on the other hand, maintain that
the _study_ of words is the most useful and creditable of all others; and
that this genuine class of learned men have reason to pride themselves in
their objected, but truly glorious character of VERBAL CRITICS.

And now, Sir, having seen how little can be said in justification of that
offensive custom which the learned have somehow taken up, of directly
applauding one another, I come to the more immediate purpose of this
address, which was to shew how singularly happy you have been in avoiding
this great vice, and to take occasion from the example you have now set
us to recommend the contrary virtue to the imitation of others.

I am sensible there are some difficulties to be encountered at setting
out. A generous mind will probably feel some reluctance, at first, to the
scheme of suppressing his natural feelings, and of withholding from his
friend that just tribute of praise which many others perhaps are but too
willing should be withheld from him. But all scruples of this sort will
be got over when the full merit of your example hath been considered; I
mean, when the inducements you had to give into the common weakness on
this occasion come to be fairly drawn out; by which it will be clearly
seen that you have the glory of setting a precedent of the most heroic
magnanimity and self-denial, and that nothing can possibly be urged in
the _case_ of any other, which you have not triumphantly gotten the
better of in your own.

I observe it to your honour, Sir, you have ventured on the same ground
in this famous Dissertation, which hath been trodden by the most noted,
at least, of our present writers. But this is not enough. It will be
of moment to consider a little more particularly the _character_ of
the person whom you chuse to follow, or rather nobly emulate, in this
route. And lest you should think I have any design to lessen the merit
of your conduct towards him by giving it in my cool way, take it from
one of those _warm_ friends who never balk their humour in this sort of
commendations. Upon asking him what he thought of the learned person’s
character, and telling him the use I might perhaps make of his opinion in
this address to you, he began in a very solemn way.

“The author of the D. L.” says he, “is a writer whose genius and learning
have so far subdued envy itself (though it never rose fiercer against any
man, or in more various and grotesque shapes), that every man of sense
now esteems him the ornament, and every good man the blessing, of these
times.”

Hold, said I, my good friend, I did not mean to put your eloquence to
the stretch for this panegyric on his _intellectual_ endowments, which
I am very ready to take upon trust, and, to say the truth, have never
heard violently run down by any but very prejudiced or very dull men. His
_moral_ qualities are those I am most concerned for.

“His _moral_,” resumed he hastily, “shine forth as strongly from all
his _writings_ as the other, and are those which I have ever reverenced
most. Of these, his love of letters and of virtue, his veneration of
great and good men, his delicacy of honour in not assuming to himself, or
depressing, the merit of others, his readiness to give their due to all
men of real desert whose principles he opposes, even to the fastidious,
scoffing Lord SHAFTESBURY and the licentious BAYLE, but above all, his
zeal for religion and for truth, these are qualities which, as often as
I look into his volumes, attract my admiration and esteem. Nor is this
enumeration, though it be far from complete, made at random. I could
illustrate each of these virtues by various instances, taken from his
works, were it not that the person you mean to address is more conversant
in them, and more ready, I may presume, to do him justice on any fitting
occasion than myself. The liberty indeed he takes of dissenting from many
great names is considerable, as well as of speaking his free thoughts of
the writers for whom he hath no esteem. But the _one_ he doth with that
respect and deference, and the _other_ with that reason and justice, and
_both_ with that ingenuous openness and candour, the characteristics of a
truly great mind, that they, whom he opposes, cannot be angry, and they
whom he censures are not misused. I mention this the rather on account of
the clamour which has so frequently been raised against the freedom and
severity of his pen. But there is no mystery in the case. No dead writer
is so bad but he has some advocates, and no living one so contemptible
but he has some friends. And the misfortune is, that, while the present
generation is too much prejudiced to do him right, posterity, to whom
the appeal of course lies, are not likely to have it in their power to
re-judge the cause: the names and writings, he most undervalues, being
such as are hastening, it seems, to that oblivion which is prepared for
such things.

“These,” continued he, “are some of the obvious qualities of the WRITER;
and for the personal virtues of the MAN—But here I may well refer you
to Dr. JORTIN himself, who will take a pleasure to assure you, that his
private character is not less respectable than his public; or, rather,
if the one demands our veneration, that the other must secure our love.
And, yet, why rest the credit of ONE, when ALL of his acquaintance agree
in this, that he is the easiest in his conversation, the frankest and
most communicative, the readiest to do all good offices, in short the
friendliest and most generous of men.”

Thus far our zealous friend. And, though I know how much you agree with
him in your sentiments, I dare say you cannot but smile at so egregious
a specimen of the high _complimentary manner_. But, though one is not
to expect an encomiast of this class will be very sensible of any
defects in the person he celebrates, yet it cannot be disowned that this
magnified man hath his foibles as well as another. I will be so fair as
to enumerate some of them.

As he is conscious of _intending_ well, and even greatly, in his learned
labours, he is rather disposed to think himself injured by malicious
slanders and gross misrepresentations. And then, as he hath abundantly
too much wit, especially for a great divine, he is apt to say such things
as, though dull men do not well comprehend, they see reason enough to
take offence at. Besides, he doth not sufficiently consult his ease or
his interest by the observance of those forms and practices which are in
use amongst the prudent part of his own order. This, no doubt, begets a
reasonable disgust. And even his friends, I observe, can hardly restrain
their censure of so great a singularity. “He is so much in his study,
they say, that he hardly allows himself time to make his appearance at
a levee. Not considering that _illud unum ad laudem cum labore directum
iter qui probaverunt prope jam soli in_ SCHOLIS _sunt relicti_.” These
infirmities, it must be owned, are very notorious in him; to which it
might be added, that he is very indiscreet, sometimes, in the topics and
turn of his conversation. His zeal for his FRIEND is so immoderate, that
he takes fire even at the most distant reflection he hears cast upon him.
And I doubt no consideration could withhold him from contradicting any
man, let his quality and station be what it would, that should hazard a
joke or an argument, in his company, against RELIGION.

I thought it but just to take notice of these weaknesses; and there may,
perhaps, be some others, which I do not now recollect. Yet, on the whole,
I will not deny that he may fairly pass for an able, a friendly, and even
amiable man.

This person then, such as he is, such, at least, as the zealots represent
and you esteem him, you have the pleasure to call your FRIEND. Report
says, too, that he has more than a common right to this _title_: that
he has won it by many real services done to yourself. How doth the
consciousness of all this fire you! and what pains do I see you take to
restrain that impatient gratitude, which would relieve itself by breaking
forth in the praises of such a friend!

And yet—in spite of all these incitements from _esteem_, from
_friendship_, and from _gratitude_, which might prompt you to some
extravagance of commendation, such is the command you have of yourself,
and so nicely do you understand what belongs to this intercourse of
learned friends, that, in the instance before us, you do not, I think,
appear to have exceeded the modest proportion even of a temperate and
chaste praise.

I assure you, Sir, I am so charmed with the beauty of this conduct, that,
though it may give your modesty some pain, I cannot help uniting the
several parts of it, and presenting the entire image to you in one piece.

I meddle not with the argument of your elaborate dissertation. It is
enough that your readers know it to be the same with that of another
famous one in the D. L. They will know, then, that, among the various
parts of that work, none was so likely as this to extort your applause.
For it is universally, I suppose, agreed that, for a point in classical
criticism, there is not the man living who hath a keener relish for it
than yourself. And the general opinion is, that your honoured friend hath
a sort of talent for this kind of writing. Some persons, I know, have
talked at a strange rate. One or two I once met with were for setting
him much above the modern, and on a level, at least, with the best of
the old, critics. But this was going too far, as may appear to any that
hath but attentively read and understood what the judicious Mr. UPTON and
the learned Mr. EDWARDS have, in their various books and pamphlets, well
and solidly, and with great delight to many discerning persons, written
on this subject. Yet still I must needs think him considerably above
MINELLIUS and FARNABY, and almost equal to old SERVIUS himself, except
that, perhaps, one doth not find in him the singular _ingenuity_[118] you
admire in the last of these critics.

But be this as it will, it seems pretty well agreed, that the learned
person, though so great a divine, is a very competent judge, and no mean
proficient in classical criticism. There are many specimens of his
talents in this way dispersed through the large and miscellaneous work of
the D. L. But the greatest effort of his genius, they say, is seen in the
explanation of the Sixth Book of the Ænëis. And, with all its defects,
I can easily perceive you were so struck with it, that it was with
the utmost reluctance you found yourself obliged, by the regard which
every honest critic owes to truth, and by the superior delicacy of your
purpose, to censure and expose it.

Another man, I can easily imagine, would have said to himself before
he had entered on this task, “This fine commentary, which sets the
most finished part of the Ænëis, and indeed the whole poem, in so new
and so advantageous a light, though not an essential in it, is yet a
considerable ornament of a justly admired work. The author, too, is my
particular friend; a man, the farthest of all others from any disposition
to lessen the reputation of those he loves. The subject hath been well
nigh exhausted by him; and the remarks I have to offer on his scheme are
not, in truth, of that consequence as to make it a point of duty for
me to lay aside the usual regards of friendship on their account: and,
though HE hath greatness of mind enough not to resent this liberty, his
impatient and ill-judging friends will be likely to take offence at it.
The public itself, as little biassed as it seems to be in his favour, may
be even scandalized at an attempt of this nature, to which no important
interest of religion or learning seem to oblige me.”

After this manner, I say, would a common man have been apt to reason with
himself. But you, Sir, understand the _rights_ of literary freedom, and
the _offices_ of sacred friendship, at another rate. The _one_ authorize
us to deliver our sentiments on any point of literature without reserve.
And the _other_ will not suffer you to dishonour the man you love, or
require you to sully the purity of your own virtue, by a vicious and
vulgar complaisance.

Or, to give the account of the whole matter in your own memorable words:

The Sixth Book of the Ænëis, you observe, though the most finished part
of the twelve, is certainly obscure. “Here then is a field open for
criticism, and all of us, who attempt to explain and illustrate Virgil,
have reason to HOPE that we may make some _discoveries_, and to FEAR
that we may fall into some _mistakes_; and this should induce us to
conjecture with _freedom_, to propose with _diffidence_, and to dissent
with _civility_. Ἀγαθὴ δ’ ἔρις ἥδε βροτοῖσι, quoth old Hesiod[119].”

Which shall I most admire, the dignity, the candour, or the prudence,
that shine forth in this curious paragraph, which stands as a sort of
preface to the refutation, as no doubt you designed it, of your friend’s
work? “_You have reason to hope that_, after the unsuccessful efforts
of the author of the D. L., _you may make some discoveries_.” In this
declaration some may esteem you too sanguine. But I see nothing in it
but a confidence very becoming a man of your talent at a _discovery_,
and of your importance in the literary world. You add, indeed, as it
were to temper this boldness, that “_you have reason to fear too that
you may fall into some mistakes_.” This was rather too modest; only it
would serve, at the same time, to intimate to your friend what he had to
expect from the following detection of his errors. But you lead us to the
consequence of these principles. “_They should induce us_, you say ”TO
CONJECTURE WITH FREEDOM.” Doubtless. And the dignity of your character
is seen in taking it. For, shall the authority or friendship of any man
stand in the way of my conjectures?

                        ——scilicet, ut non
    Sit mihi prima fides; et verè quod placet, ut non
    Acriter elatrem!

—“TO PROPOSE WITH DIFFIDENCE.” Certainly very _prudent_, especially for
one sort of _free-conjecturers_; and, by the way, no bad hint to the
person you glance at, whose vice it is thought to be, above that of most
other writers, never to trouble himself with composing a book on any
question, of whose truth he is not previously and firmly convinced——“AND
TO DISSENT WITH CIVILITY.” A _candid_ insinuation, which amounts to this,
“That, when a writer hath done his best to shew his learning or his wit,
the man at whose expence it is, especially if he be a friend, is, in
consideration of such services, not to take it amiss.”

I have been the freer to open the meaning of this introductory paragraph,
because it lets us into the spirit with which you mean to carry yourself
in this learned contention. For a _contention_ it is to be, and to good
purpose too, if old Hesiod be any authority. Ἀγαθὴ δ’ ἔρις ἥδε βροτοῖσι,
quoth old Hesiod. Though to make the application quite pat the maxim
should have run thus, Ἀγαθὴ δ’ ἔρις ἥδε φιλοῖσι, which I do not find in
old Hesiod.

However the reason of the thing extends to both. And as _friends_ after
all are but _men_, and sometimes none of the best neither, what need for
standing on this distinction?

Yet still the question returns, “Why so cool in the entrance of this
friendly debate? Where had been the hurt of a little amicable parlying
before daggers-drawing? If a man, in the true spirit of ancient chivalry,
will needs break a lance with his friend, he might give him good words
at least and shake hands with him before the onset. Something of this
sort might have been expected, were it only to save the reputation of
_dissenting with civility_.”

Now in answer to this question, which comes indeed to the point, and
which I hear asked in all companies, I reply with much confidence,
_first_, that the very foundation of it is laid in certain high fantastic
notions about the duties of friendship, and in that vicious habit of
civility that hath so long been prevalent among learned friends; both
which props and pillars of the cause I may presume with great modesty to
have entirely overturned.

But _secondly_ and chiefly I say that the whole is an arrant
misrepresentation; for that you have indeed proceeded in this affair,
with all that civility and even friendliness that could in reason be
expected from you: I mean so far as the sobriety and _Retenuë_, as the
French term it (it is plain the virtue hath not been very common amongst
us from our having no name to call it by) of a true critical friendship
will allow.

Now there are several ways by which a writer’s civility to his friend may
appear without giving into the formal way of _address_: just as there are
several ways of expressing his devotion to his patron, without observing
the ordinary forms of _dedication_; of which, to note it by the way,
the latest and best instances I have met with, are, “A certain thing
prefatory to a learned work, entitled, _The Elements of Civil Law_,” and
“Those curious two little paragraphs prefixed to _The Six Dissertations
on different Subjects_.”

You see the delicacy of the learned is improving in our days in more
respects than one. And take my word for it, you have contributed your
share to this good work. For as you began, so you conclude your volume
with a master stroke of address, which will deserve the acknowledgment
and imitation of all your brethren, as I now proceed distinctly and with
great exactness of method to unfold.

THE FIRST way of distinguishing a learned friend, without incurring the
guilt of downright compliment, is by _writing on the same subject with
him_. This is an obvious method of paying one’s court to a great writer.
For it is in effect telling him that the public attention is raised
to the argument he hath been debating; and that his credit hath even
brought it into such vogue that any prate on the same subject is sure
of a favourable reception. This I can readily suppose to have been your
first motive for engaging in this controversy. And the practice is very
frequent. So when a certain edition of SHAKESPEAR appeared, though it had
been but the amusement of the learned editor, every body went to work, in
good earnest, on the great poet, and the public was presently over-run
with editions and criticisms and illustrations of him. Thus too it fared
with the several subjects treated in the D. L. Few were competent judges
of the main argument, or disposed to give it a candid interpretation.
But every smatterer had something to say to this or that occasional
disquisition. Thus SYKES, and STEBBING grew immortal, and, as the poet
says truly, _in their own despite_. And what but some faint glimmering
of this _bright reversion_, which we will charitably hope may be still
kept in reserve for them, could put it into the heads of such men as
WORTHINGTON, H. G. C.[120] and PETERS, to turn critics and commentators
on the book of JOB?

SECONDLY, Though I acknowledge the full merit of this way of treating
a learned friend, I am rather more taken with another, which is that
_of writing against him_. For this demonstrates the esteem one hath of
the author’s work, not only as it may seem to imply a little generous
rivalry or indeed envy, from which infirmity a truly learned spirit is
seldom quite free, but as it shews the answerer thought it worth _writing
against_; which, let me assure you, is no vulgar compliment; as many
living writers can testify, who to this hour are sadly lamenting that
their ill fortune hath never permitted them to rise to this distinction.
Now, in this view of the matter, I must take leave to think that
you have done a very substantial honour to the author of the famous
_Discourse on the_ VIth _book of Virgil_, in levelling so long and so
elaborate a disputation against him. And HE, of all other men, ought to
be of my mind, who to my certain knowledge hath never done thus much
for one in a hundred of those learned persons whose principal end in
commencing writers against him was to provoke him to this civility.

But then, THIRDLY, this compliment of _writing against_ a great author
may be conveyed with that address, that he shall not appear, I mean to
any but the more sagacious and discerning, to be _written against_ at
all. This curious feat of _leger-de-main_ is performed _by glancing
at his arguments without so much as naming the person or referring to
him_. This I account the most delicate and flattering of all the arts
of literary address, as it expresseth all the respect, I have taken
notice of under the preceding article, heightened with a certain awe
and fear of offence, which to a liberal mind, I should think, must
be perfectly irresistible. It is with much pleasure I observe many
examples of this kind in your truly candid dissertation, where without
the least reference, or under the slight cover of—_some friends of
Virgil say_[121]—_some commentators have thought_[122]—_Virgil’s friends
suppose_[123]—and the like, you have dexterously and happily slid in
a censure of some of your friend’s principal reasonings. But, to be
impartial, though you manage this matter with admirable grace, the secret
is in many hands. And whatever be the cause, hath been more frequently
employed in the case of the author of the D. L. than any other. I could
mention, at least, a dozen famous writers, who, like the flatterers of
Augustus, don’t chuse to look him full in the face, but artfully intimate
their reverence of him by indirect glances. If I single out one of
these from all the rest it is only to gratify the admirers of a certain
eminent PROFESSOR[124] who, as an Oxford friend writes me word, hath many
delightful instances of this sort in his very edifying discourses on the
HEBREW POETRY.

FOURTHLY, Another contrivance of near affinity to this, is, when you
oppose his principles indeed, _but let his arguments quite alone_. Of
this management a wary reader will discover many traces in your obliging
discourse. And can any thing be more generous than to ease a man of the
shame of seeing his own reasonings confuted, or even produced when the
writer’s purpose requires him to pay no regard to them? Such tenderness,
I think, though it is pretended to by others, can, of right, belong only
to the true friend. But your kindness knows no bounds. For,

FIFTHLY, Though you find yourself sometimes obliged to produce and
confute his reasonings, _you take care to furnish him with better of
your own_. The delicacy of this conduct lies in the good opinion, which
is insinuated of the writer’s conclusion, and in the readiness which you
shew to support it even in spite of himself. There is a choice instance
in that part of your discourse, where agreeing with your friend that the
punishments of _Tartarus_ are properly _eternal_, you reject his reason
for that conclusion, but supply him with many others in its stead.

“This alone will not prove the eternity of punishments for, _&c._—BUT
if to this you add the Platonic doctrine, that very wicked spirits were
never released from _Tartarus_, AND the silence of _Virgil_ as to any
dismission from that jail, AND the censure of the _Epicureans_, who
objected to religious systems the eternity of punishments,

    _Æternas quoniam pœnas in morte timendum_;

AND the general doctrine of the mythologists, AND the opinion of SERVIUS,
that VIRGIL was to be taken in this sense, we may conclude that the
punishments in his Tartarus were probably eternal[125].”

Never let men talk after this of the niggardliness of your friendship,
when, though you take from him with one hand, you restore him five-fold
with the other.

After such an overflow of goodness, nothing I can now advance will seem
incredible. I take upon me to affirm therefore,

SIXTHLY, That it is a mere calumny to say that you have contented
yourself, though you very well might, with mere _negative_ encomiums.
You can venture on occasion to _quote from your friend in form_, and,
as it should seem, with some _apparent approbation_. An instance is
now before me. You cite what the author of the D. L. says of “_the
transformation of the ships into sea deities_, by which, says he, VIRGIL
would insinuate, I suppose, the great advantage of cultivating a naval
power, such as extended commerce and the dominion of the ocean: which in
poetical language is becoming _deities of the sea_.”

To which you add, “In _favour_ of this opinion it may be further
observed, that AUGUSTUS owed his empire in a great measure to his naval
victories[126].”

Now can any thing be civiler than this, or more expressive of that
amiable turn of mind, which disposes a man to help forward a lame
argument of his friend, and give it the needful support of his authority?
For it hath been delivered as a maxim by the nice observers of decorum,
that wherever you would compliment another on his opinion, you should
always endeavour to add something of your own that may insinuate at
least some little defect in it. This management takes of the appearance
of _flattery_, a vice which the Latin writers, alluding to this
frequency of unqualified assent, have properly enough expressed by the
word ASSENTATIO. But catch you tripping in this way if one can. It is
plain you went on this just principle in the instance before us, which
otherwise, let me tell you, I should have taken for something like an
attempt towards downright adulation. As here qualified, I set it down for
another instance of just compliment, more direct indeed than the other
_five_, yet still with that graceful obliquity which they who know the
world, expect in this sort of commerce. And I may further observe, that
you are not singular in the use of this mode of celebration. Many even of
the enemies of this author have obligingly enough employed it when they
wanted to confirm their own notions by his, or rather to shew their parts
in first catching a hint from him, and then, as they believe, improving
upon it—Still I have greater things in view. For,

SEVENTHLY, You not only with the highest address insinuate a compliment
in the way of citation, but you once or twice _express it in full
form_, and with all the circumstance of panegyrical approbation. Having
mentioned the case of the infants in Virgil’s purgatory, which hath
so much perplexed his learned commentators, you rise at once into the
following encomium. “It is an _ingenious_ conjecture proposed in the D.
L. that the poet might design to discountenance the cursed practice of
exposing and murdering infants.”

This was very liberal, and I began to think you had forgotten yourself
a little in so explicit a declaration. But the next paragraph relieved
me. “It might be added, that Virgil had perhaps _also_ in view to please
Augustus, who was desirous of encouraging matrimony and the education
of children, and extremely intent upon repeopling Italy which had been
exhausted by the civil wars[127].” It is plain you have still in your eye
that sage rule which the men of manners lay down, of _qualifying_ your
civilities. So that I let this pass without farther observation. Only I
take leave to warn you against the too frequent use of this artifice,
which but barely satisfies for calling your friend’s notion “_an
ingenious conjecture_.”

Not but are there others who see this contrivance in another light, and
treat it as an art of _damning with faint praise_; a censure which one
of the zealot friends presumes to cast, with much injustice and little
knowledge of the world, on the very leader and pride of our party.
Whereas I deliver it for a most certain truth, that the fainter and
feebler our praise of any man is, just so much the better will it be
received by all companies, even by the generality of those who call
themselves his best friends. And so apprehensive indeed am I of this nice
humour in mankind, that I am not sure if the very slight things I am
forced to say of yourself, though merely to carry on the purpose of this
address, will not by certain persons, inwardly at least, be ill taken.
And with this needful apology for myself I proceed to celebrate,

EIGHTHLY, The last and highest instance of your civilities to your
admired friend, which yet I hope to vindicate from any reasonable
suspicion of flattery; I presumed to say in the foregoing article that
you had _once or twice_ hazarded even a direct compliment on the person
whose system you oppose. I expressed myself with accuracy. There is
_one other_ place in your dissertation, where you make this sacrifice
to friendship or to custom. The passage is even wrought up into a
resemblance of that unqualified adulation, which I condemn so much, and
from which, in general, your writings are perfectly free. I could almost
wish for your credit to suppress this one obnoxious paragraph. But it
runs thus,

“That the subterraneous adventures of Æneas were intended by Virgil to
represent the _initiation_ of his heroe, is an _elegant_ conjecture,
which hath been laid before the public, and set forth to the best
advantage _by a learned friend_[128].”

I confess to you I did not know at first sight what to do with the
two high-flown epithets, _elegant_ and _learned_, which stand so near
together in one sentence. Such accumulated praises had well-nigh overset
my system. And I began with much solicitude to consider how I should be
able to reconcile this escape of your pen with your general practice.
But taking a little time to look about me, I presently spied a way of
extricating both of us from this difficulty. For hang it, thought I,
if this notion of the heroe’s adventures in the infernal regions be
_elegant_, it is but a conjecture; and so poor a matter as this were
hardly worth pursuing, as the author of the D. L. hath done, through
almost a fourth part of a very sizeable volume.

And then as to the term _elegant_, to be sure it hath a good sound; but
more than a _third_ part of this choice volume of yours, I observed,
is employed in making appear that the conjecture, whatever it be, hath
not the least feature of _truth_ in it. And _elegance_, altogether
devoid of truth, was, I concluded, a very pitiful thing, and indeed no
very intelligible encomium. Well, but let there be as little truth as
you will, in this conjecture, still it _hath been set forth to the best
advantage_, and to crown all _by a learned friend_. Here a swarm of fresh
difficulties attacked me. _Sed nil desperandum te duce._ For why talk of
_advantage_, when the conjecture after all would not bear the handling?
It was but mighty little (your friendship would not let you do more)
which you had brought against it. And the conjecture I saw, was shrunk to
nothing, and is never likely to rise again into any shape or substance.
So that when you added _by a learned friend_, I could not for my life,
help laughing. Surely, thought I, the reverend person tends on this
occasion to be pleasant.——Indeed you often are so with a very good grace,
but I happened not to expect it just at this moment.—For what _learning_
worth speaking of could there be in the support of a notion, which was so
easily overturned without any?

You may be sure I mean no reflection in these words. Nobody questions
your erudition. But it was not your fortune or your choice to make a shew
of it in this discourse. The propriety of the epithet _learned_, then,
did not evidently and immediately appear.

However, as I knew there was in truth no small quantity of learning in
the piece referred to, and that the author of the D. L. whatever BATE,
and PETERS, and JACKSON, may say or insinuate, is unquestionably, and to
a very competent degree, learned, I began to take the matter a little
more seriously. And, upon looking attentively at the words a second
time, I thought a very natural account might be given of them upon other
principles. For, as to the substantive _friend_, why might not that
for once be put in for your own sake as well as his? The advantages of
friendship are reciprocal. And though it be very clear to other people
which is the gainer by this intercourse, who knows but Dr. JORTIN, in his
great modesty, might suppose the odds to lie on his own side?

And then for _learned_, which had embarrassed me so much, I bethought
myself at last there was not much in that, this attribute having been
long prostituted on every man who pretends, in any degree, to the
profession of letters.

So that, on the whole, though I must still reckon this for an instance,
amongst others, of that due measure of respect with which your politeness
teaches you to treat your friends, yet I see no reason for charging it
with any excess of civility.

And now, Sir, having been at all this pains to justify you from the two
contrary censures of having done _too little_ and _too much_, let us see
how the account stands. Malice itself, I think, must confess that you
have not been lavish of your encomiums. You have even dispensed them
with a reserve, which, though I admire extremely, will almost expose you
to the imputation of _parsimony_. And yet, on the other hand, when we
compute the number and estimate the value of your applauses, we shalt
see cause to correct this censure. For, from the EIGHT articles I have
so carefully set down, and considered, it appears at length that you
have done all due honour to your friend, and in ways the most adapted
to do him honour. That is to say, _You have adopted his subject—You
have written against him—You have glanced at him—You have spared his
arguments—You have lent him some of your own—You have quoted him—You have
called his conjecture ingenious—Nay elegant—And you have called himself
learned_, and, what is more, _your friend_.

And if all this will not satisfy him, or rather his friends (for I hope,
and partly believe, he himself thinks nothing of this whole matter),
I know not for my part what will. I am sure (and that should be your
satisfaction, as it is mine) that you have gone as far as was consistent
with the _delicacy_ of friendship (which may reasonably imply in it a
little jealousy), and with the virtuous consciousness of that importance
which writers of your class ought to be of to themselves. And I hope
never to see the day when you shall be induced by any considerations to
compliment any man breathing at the expence of these two virtues.

And here, on a view of this whole matter, let me profess the pleasure
I take in observing that you (and I have remarked it in some others),
who have so constantly those soft words of _candour_, _goodness_, and
_charity_ in your mouth, and whose soul, one would think, was ready to
melt itself into all the weaknesses of this character, should yet have
force enough not to relent at the warmest influences of _friendship_.
Men may see by this instance that _charity_ is not that unmanly
enfeebling virtue which some would represent it, when, though ready on
fit occasions to resolve and open itself to a _general_ candour, it shuts
up the heart close and compact, and impregnable to any _particular_ and
personal attachment.

I take much delight in this pleasing contemplation. Yet, as our best
virtues, when pushed to a certain degree, are on the very point of
becoming vices, you are not to wonder that every one hath not the
discernment or the justice to do you right. And to see, in truth, the
malignity of human nature, and the necessity there was for you to
inculcate in your _third_ Discourse, _The duty of judging candidly and
favourably of others_, I will not conceal from you, at parting, what
hath been suggested to me by many persons to whom I communicated the
design of this address. “They said,” besides other things which I have
occasionally obviated in the course of this letter, “that the excellent
person whom you have allowed yourself to treat with so much indignity
and disrespect (I need not take notice that I use the very terms of the
objectors), in this poor and disingenuous criticism upon him, had set
you an example of a very different sort, which you ought in common
equity, and even decency, to have followed.” They observe that his own
pen never expatiates more freely, and with more pleasure, than when it
finds or takes an occasion to celebrate the virtues of some deserving
friend. They own the natural warmth and benevolence of his temper is even
liable to some excess on these inviting occasions. And for an instance
they referred me to a paragraph in the notes on _Julian_, which, though
I know you do not forget, I shall here set down as it stands in the last
edition. He had just been touching a piece of ecclesiastical history.
“But this,” says he, “I leave with Julian’s adventures to my learned
friend Mr. JORTIN, who, I hope, will soon oblige the public with his
curious Dissertations on Ecclesiastical Antiquity, composed like his
Life, not in the spirit of _controversy_, nor, what is worse, of _party_,
but of _truth_ and _candour_[129].”

Here, said they insultingly, is a specimen of that truly liberal spirit
with which one learned friend should exert himself when he would do
honour to another. Will all the volumes which the profound ecclesiastical
remarker hath published, or ever will publish, do him half the credit
with posterity as this single stroke, by which his name and virtues are
here adorned and ushered into the acquaintance of the public? And will
you still pretend to vindicate him from the scorn which every honest man
must have for him, after seeing how unworthily he requites this service
by his famous SIXTH DISSERTATION in this new volume?

This, and a great deal more to the same purpose, was said by them in
their tragical way. I need not hint to you, after the clear exposition
I have given of my own sentiments, how little weight their rhetoric had
on me, and how easily I turned aside this impotent, though invenomed,
invective from falling on your fame and memory. For the _compliment_
they affect to magnify so much, let every candid reader judge of it for
himself. But, as much had been said in this debate concerning FRIENDSHIP,
and the persons with whom it was most proper to contract it, I found
myself something struck with the concluding observation of one of these
rhetorical declaimers. As it was delivered in a language you love, and
is, besides, a passage not much blown upon by the dealers in such scraps,
I have thought it might, perhaps, afford you some amusement. He did not
say where he found it, and you would not like it the better if he had,
but, as I remember, it was delivered in these words: Ἐμοὶ πρὸς φιλοσόφους
ἐστὶ φιλία· πρὸς μέν τοι ΣΟΦΙΣΤΑΣ, ἢ ΓΡΑΜΜΑΤΙΣΤΑΣ, ἢ τοιοῦτο γένος ἕτερον
ΑΝΘΡΩΠΩΝ ΚΑΚΟΔΑΙΜΟΝΩΝ, ὄυτε ΝΥΝ ΕΣΤΙ ΦΙΛΙΑ ΜΗΤΕ ΥΣΤΕΡΟΝ ΠΟΤΕ ΓΕΝΟΙΤΟ.

_Lincoln’s-Inn, Nov. 25, 1755._




  A

  LETTER

  TO

  THE REV. DR. LELAND.

  FIRST PRINTED IN 1764.




  A

  LETTER

  TO THE

  REV. DR. THOMAS LELAND,

  FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN:

  IN WHICH

  HIS LATE DISSERTATION

  ON THE PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN ELOQUENCE

  IS CRITICISED;

  AND

  THE BISHOP OF GLOUCESTER’S

  _Idea of the Nature and Character of an
  inspired Language_, as delivered in his
  Lordship’s _Doctrine of Grace_,

  IS VINDICATED

  From ALL the Objections of the learned Author
  of the DISSERTATION.




A LETTER TO THE REV. DR. LELAND.


REV. SIR,

I have read your DISSERTATION _on the principles of human Eloquence_, and
shall very readily, I dare say, be indulged in the liberty, I am going
to take, of giving you my free thoughts upon it. I shall do it, with all
the regard that is due from one scholar to another; and even with all the
civility which may be required ONE, who hath his reasons for addressing
you, in this public manner, without a name.

You entitle your work _A Dissertation on the principles of Eloquence_:
but the real subject of it, is an _Opinion_, or _Paradox_, as you
chuse to term it, delivered by the Bishop of _Gloucester_ in his late
discourse _on Grace_. This opinion, indeed, concerns, or rather, in
your ideas, subverts, _the very principles_ of Eloquence, which your
office, it seems, in a learned society obliged you to maintain: so
that you cannot be blamed for giving some attention to the ingenious
Prelate’s paradox, which so incommodiously came in your way. Only the
more intelligent of your hearers might possibly think it strange that,
in a set of rhetorical lectures, addressed to them, the _Controversial_
part should so much take the lead of the _Didactic_: or rather, that the
_Didactic_ part should stand quite still, while the _Controversial_ keeps
pacing it, with much alacrity, from one end of your Dissertation to the
other.

Yet neither, on second thoughts, can you be blamed for this conduct,
which one way or other might serve to the instruction of your young
auditory; if not in _the principles of Rhetoric_, yet in a better thing,
_the principles of Logic_. It might, further, serve to another purpose,
not unworthy the regard of a rhetoric lecturer. The subject of Eloquence
has been so exhausted in the fine writings of antiquity, and, what is
worse, has been so hackneyed in modern compilations from them, that your
discourse wanted to be enlivened by the poignant controversial air, you
have given to it, and to be made important, by bringing an illustrious
character into the scene.

All this I am ready to say in your vindication, if your conduct may be
thought to require any. Having, therefore, nothing to object to the
_general design_, or _mode_ of your dissertation, I shall confine myself
entirely to the MATTER of it, after acquainting the reader, in few words,
with the occasion and subject Of this debate.

The Bishop of _Gloucester_, in late theological treatise on _the
doctrine of Grace_, which required him to speak fully to the subject of
_inspiration_, found it necessary to obviate an objection to what he
conceived to be the right notion of _inspired scripture_, which had been
supported by some ingenious men, and very lately by Dr. MIDDLETON. The
objection is delivered by the learned Doctor, in these words.

“If we allow the gift [of inspired languages] to be lasting, we must
conclude that some at least of the books of scripture were in this
inspired Greek. But we should naturally expect to find an inspired
language to be such as is worthy of God; that is, pure, clear, noble and
affecting, even beyond the force of common speech; since nothing can come
from God but what is perfect in its kind. In short, the purity of PLATO,
and the eloquence of CICERO. Now, if we try the apostolic language by
this rule, we shall be so far from ascribing it to God, that we shall
scarcely think it worthy of man, that is, of the liberal and polite; it
being utterly rude and barbarous, and abounding with every fault that can
possibly deform a language. And though some writers, prompted by a false
zeal, have attempted to defend the purity of the Scripture-Greek, their
labour has been idly employed[130].” Thus far the learned DOCTOR.

‘These triumphant observations,’ says the Bishop, ‘are founded on two
propositions, both of which he takes for granted, and yet neither of them
is true:

‘The one, That an inspired language must needs be a language of perfect
eloquence;

‘The other, That eloquence is something congenial and essential to human
speech[131].’

The BISHOP then undertakes to shew the falshood of these two
propositions. YOU, Sir, contend for the truth of the _latter_: and
controvert the principles on which the Bishop would confute the _former_.
That the reader may be enabled to judge for himself between you, I shall
quote his Lordship’s own words, paragraph by paragraph, so far as any
thing said by him is controverted by you; and shall then endeavour,
with all care, to pick up the loose ends of your argument, as I find
them any where _come up_ in the several chapters of your Dissertation;
intermixing, as I go along, such reflexions of my own, as the occasion
may suggest.

‘With regard to the FIRST proposition (resumes the Bishop) I will be bold
to affirm, that were the STYLE of the New Testament exactly such as his
[Dr. MIDDLETON’S] very exaggerated account of if would persuade us to
believe, namely that it is _utterly rude and barbarous, and abounding
with every fault that can possibly deform a language_, this is so far
from proving such language not divinely inspired, that it is one certain
mark of this original[132].’

By the manner, in which the learned Bishop introduces this _affirmation_,
one sees that he foresaw very clearly it would be esteemed a _bold_
one. Nay, in another place[133], he even takes to himself the shame,
with which some readers, he well knew, would be forward enough to cover
him, and in one word confesses his general notion of eloquence to be a
PARADOX: _which yet_, says he, _like so many others, I have had the odd
fortune to advance, will be seen to be only another name, for_ TRUTH.
After this concession, it had been more generous in you to have omitted
some invidious passages; such as that where you say, _the Bishop in his
reply to this objection_ [of Dr. MIDDLETON] _seems to have displayed
that_ BOLD OPPOSITION TO THE GENERAL OPINIONS OF MANKIND, _by which his
learned labours are distinguished_; Intr. p. ii. And again in p. vii.
where you speak of his principles as _paradoxical_, and implying AN HARDY
OPPOSITION TO THE GENERAL SENSE OF MANKIND.

But let the _boldness_ of the Bishop’s principles be what it will, there
is small hurt done, provided they turn out, what he seems persuaded they
will, only _truths_. Let us attend his Lordship, then, in the proof of
his FIRST Paradox.

‘I will not pretend, says he, to point out which books of the N. T. were,
or were not, composed by those who had the Greek tongue thus miraculously
infused into them; but this I will venture to say, that the style of a
writer so inspired, who had not (as these writers had not) afterwards
cultivated his knowledge of the language on the principles of Grecian
eloquence, would be precisely such as we find it in the books of the New
Testament.

‘For, if this only be allowed, which no one, I think, will contest with
me, that a strange language acquired by illiterate men, in the ordinary
way, would be full of the idioms of their native tongue, just as the
Scripture-Greek is observed to be full of Syriasms, and Hebraisms;
how can it be pretended, by those who reflect upon the nature of
language, that a strange tongue divinely infused into illiterate men,
like that at the day of Pentecost, could have any other properties and
conditions[134]?’

Here, the features of this bold paradox begin to soften a little. We are
something reconciled to it, 1. by being told, what the _rudeness and
barbarity_ is, which is affirmed to be _one certain mark_ of an inspired
language, namely, _its being full of the idioms of the native tongue_ of
the inspired writer: And 2. by being told, that these idioms are equally
to be expected whether the new language be infused by divine inspiration,
or acquired by illiterate men in the ordinary way. In the _latter_
case, it is presumed, and surely with reason enough (because experience
uniformly attests the fact), that a strange language, so learnt, would
abound in the native idioms of the learner: All that remains is to shew,
that the event would be the same, in the _former_. The Bishop then
applies himself, in order, to this task.

‘Let us weigh these cases impartially. Every language consists of two
distinct parts; the single terms, and the phrases and idioms. The
first, as far as concerns appellatives especially, is of mere arbitrary
imposition, though on artificial principles common to all men: The second
arises insensibly, but constantly, from the manners, customs, and tempers
of those to whom the language is vernacular; and so becomes, though
much less arbitrary (as what the Grammarians call _congruity_ is more
concerned in this part than in the other), yet various and different
as the several tribes and nations of mankind. The first therefore is
unrelated to every thing but to the genius of language in general;
the second hath an intimate connexion with the fashions, notions, and
opinions of that people only, to whom the language is native.

‘Let us consider then the constant way which illiterate men take to
acquire the knowledge of a foreign tongue. Do they not make it their
principal, and, at first, their only study, to treasure up in their
memory the signification of the terms? Hence, when they come to talk or
write in the speech thus acquired, their language is found to be full of
their own native idioms. And thus it will continue, till by long use of
the strange tongue, and especially by long acquaintance with the owners
of it, they have imbibed the particular genius of the language.

‘Suppose then this foreign tongue, instead of being thus gradually
introduced into the minds of these illiterate men, was instantaneously
infused into them; the operation (though not the very mode of operating)
being the same, must not the effect be the same, let the cause be never
so different? Without question. The divine impression must be made
either by fixing the terms or single words only and their signification
in the memory; as for instance, Greek terms corresponding to the Syriac
or Hebrew; or else, together with that simple impression, another must
be made, to inrich the mind with all the ideas which go towards the
composing the phrases and idioms of the language so inspired: But this
latter impression seems to require, or rather indeed implies, a previous
one, of the tempers, fashions, and opinions of the people to whom the
language is native, upon the minds of them to whom the language is thus
imparted; because the phrase and idiom arises from, and is dependent on,
those manners: and therefore the force of expression can be understood
only in proportion to the knowledge of the manners: and understood they
were to be; the Recipients of this spiritual gift being not organical
canals, but rational Dispensers. So that this would be a waste of
miracles without a sufficient cause; the Syriac or Hebrew idiom, to
which the Disciples were enabled of themselves to adapt the words of the
Greek, or any other language, abundantly serving every useful purpose,
all which centered in giving CLEAR INTELLIGENCE. We conclude, therefore,
that what was thus inspired was the TERMS, together with that grammatic
congruity, which is dependant thereon. In a word, to suppose such kind
of inspired knowledge of _strange tongues_ as includes all the native
peculiarities, which, if you will, you may call their _elegancies_; (for
the more a language is coloured by the character and manners of the
native users, the more elegant it is esteemed) to suppose this, is, as I
have said, an ignorant fancy, and repugnant to reason and experience.

‘Now, from what has been observed, it follows, that if the style of the
N. T. were indeed derived from a language divinely infused as on the
day of Pentecost, it must be just such, with regard to its style, as,
in fact, we find it to be; that is to say, Greek words very frequently
delivered in Syriac and Hebrew idiom.

‘The conclusion from the whole is this, that _nominal_ or _local_
barbarity of style (for that this attribute, when applied to style, is no
more than nominal or local, will be clearly shewn under our next head) is
so far from being an objection to its miraculous acquisition, that it is
one mark of such extraordinary original[135].’

I have given this long quotation together, that the reader may comprehend
at one view the drift and coherence of the Bishop’s argument: which is so
clearly explained that what force it hath, can receive no addition from
any comment of mine upon it.

It is true, this force appears to you no mighty matter—“We are told, you
say, that, in order to convey clear intelligence to a foreigner, nothing
more is necessary, than to use the _words_ of his language adapted to the
_idiom_ of our own. But shall we always find correspondent words in his
language[136]?”

Shall _we always find correspondent words_?—Not always, _perfectly_
correspondent. Where does the Bishop say, we shall? Or, how was it to
his purpose to say it? He does indeed speak of _such a correspondency of
terms_, and chiefly _of such an adaption of the terms of one language
to the idiom of another_, as shall abundantly serve to give _clear
intelligence_. And this is all he had occasion to say.

Well, but an exact correspondency of terms is material. To what? To give
_clear intelligence_? But if this be true, no clear intelligence can
possibly be given in any translation from one language into another;
for, in all translations whatever, it is necessary to render some words
by others, that are not perfectly correspondent. You will scarcely deny
that our English translation of the Gospels conveys, in general, _clear
intelligence_ to the English reader, though many terms are used in it,
and were of necessity to be used, that do not perfectly and adequately
correspond to the Greek terms, employed by the sacred writers. Without
doubt it was your purpose to convey _clear intelligence_ to your
English reader in the elegant translations, they say, you have made of
DEMOSTHENES: and yet doubtless you will acknowledge that many words of
the Athenian orator are not perfectly correspondent to those employed by
you in your version of them.

What follows from this? Why, either that all translations must be
exploded and set aside as insufficient to give clear intelligence, or
that we must accept them, with all their unavoidable imperfections, as,
in general, sufficiently representative of the sense of their originals,
though in some particulars that sense be inadequately conveyed to us.

But how then, you will say, shall we gain a clear and perfect
intelligence of such particulars? Why in the way, which common sense
suggests; by inquiring, if we are able, what the precise meaning is of
those terms of the original language, to which the translated terms are
thus imperfectly correspondent. And if this be an inconvenience, ’tis an
inconvenience necessarily attending every translation in the world, in
which a writer would express the mixed modes denoted by the words of any
other. For supposing the Greek tongue, infused by divine inspiration into
the sacred writers, to have been that of PLATO or DEMOSTHENES himself,
you will hardly pretend that it could have furnished them with Greek
terms perfectly expressive of such compound ideas as certain Syriac or
Hebrew terms expressed, and of which their subject obliged them to give,
as far as the nature of the case would permit, _clear intelligence_. So
that I cannot for my life comprehend the drift of that short question,
_Shall we always find correspondent terms in a foreign language?_ or,
the pertinence of your learned comment on the text of CICERO’S letter to
SERVIUS.

I am sensible indeed, that, if the _terms_ only of the new language
were divinely infused, _these_, whether perfectly correspondent or not,
would be insufficient of themselves to give clear intelligence. But the
Bishop supposes more than this to be infused; for, _what was inspired,
he tells us, was the terms_, TOGETHER _with that grammatic congruity
which is dependent thereon_. Now this knowledge of the _grammatic
congruity_ of any tongue, superadded to a knowledge of its _terms_, would
methinks enable a writer to express himself in it, for the most part,
_intelligibly_.

I confess, the Bishop speaks—_of fixing the terms or single words_ ONLY,
_and their signification, in the memory_—But then he does not mean to
exclude the _grammatic congruity_ in the use of them, which, as we have
seen, he expressly requires in the very same paragraph, but merely to
expose the notion of the _phrases and idioms_ being required, too. His
Lordship speaks of the _terms, or single words_ ONLY, in opposition to
_phrases and idioms_: you seem to speak of _terms, or single words_ ONLY,
in opposition to _systematic congruity_.

I say, you _seem_ so to speak: for, otherwise, I know not what to make
of all you say concerning the insufficiency of the _terms only_ of any
language to give intelligence. And yet, in what follows, you _seem_ to
do justice to the Bishop, and to admit that, besides the _terms_, a
_grammatic congruity in the use of them_ was divinely inspired. For you
go on to observe, “That the real purport of almost every sentence, in
every language, is not to be learned from the signification of detached
words, _and their grammatical congruity_, even where their signification
may be expressed by correspondent words in another language[137].”

And here, Sir, your learning expatiates through several pages: the
purpose of all which is to shew, that, if the _terms_ of one language,
though _congruously used_, be strictly adapted to the _idiom_ of another,
still they would give no intelligence, or at least a very obscure
one; as you endeavour to prove by a _decent_ instance taken from your
countryman, SWIFT, in his dotages; and another, given by yourself in a
literal version of a long passage of a sacred writer. It is true, in this
last instance, you do not confine yourself to the strict observance of
_grammatic congruity_. If you had done this, it would have appeared, from
your own instance, that _intelligence_ might have been given, and with
tolerable _clearness_ too, even in a literal version.

But be it allowed, that, if the terms of one language, even though a
congruous construction be observed, be constantly and strictly adapted
to the _idioms_ of another, the expression will still, many times, be
very dark and obscure: how is this _obscurity_ to be prevented? Take what
language you will for the conveyance instruction, it will be necessary
for the reader or hearer to gain a competent knowledge of its idioms
and phraseology, before he can receive the full benefit of it. So that,
unless there had been a language in the world, native to all nations, and
in the strictest sense of the word _universal_, I see not how inspiration
itself could remedy this inconvenience. Suppose, as I said before, that
the inspired language in which the Apostles wrote had been the purest
Greek, still its _idiomatic phraseology_ had been as strange and obscure
to all such to whom that language was not native, as the Syriac or Hebrew
idioms, by which the Apostolic Greek is now supposed to be so much
darkened.

I conclude upon the whole, that nothing you have said overturns, or so
much as affects, the learned Prelate’s notion of divine inspiration, _as
conveying only the terms and single words of one language, corresponding
to those of another, together with that grammatic congruity in the use
of them which is dependant thereon_. This _first and grand principle_,
as you call it, of the Bishop’s new theory, _is such_, you say, _as no
critic or grammarian can admit_[138]. On the contrary, I must presume
to think, because I have now shewn, that no critic or grammarian, who
deserves the name, can reasonably object to this _principle_, as it
allows all that is necessary to be supposed of an inspired language, its
sufficiency to give clear intelligence: so _clear_, that, had the idioms
of the new language been inspired too, it could not, in the general view
of Providence, who intended this intelligence for the use of all people
and languages, have been clearer.

But your unfavourable sentiment of the Bishop’s principle arises
from your misconception of the _circumstances_, _abilities_, and
_qualifications_ of the Apostles, when they addressed themselves to the
work of their ministry, and especially to the work of composing books
for the instruction of the faithful in this originally inspired language.

When the Greek language was first infused, it would, no doubt, be full of
their native phrases, or rather it would be wholly and entirely adapted
to the Hebrew or Syriac idioms. This would render their expression
somewhat dark and obscure to their Grecian hearers. But then it would be
intelligible enough to those to whom they first and principally addressed
themselves, the _Hellenistic Jews_, who, though they understood Greek
best, were generally no strangers to the Hebrew idiom.

Further still, though this Hebrew-Greek language was all that was
originally infused into the Apostles, nothing hinders but that they
might, in the ordinary way, improve themselves in the Greek tongue,
and superadd to their inspired knowledge whatever they could acquire,
besides, by their conversation with the native Greeks, and the study of
their language. For, though it can hardly be imagined, as the Bishop
says, _that the inspired writers had cultivated their knowledge of the
language on the principles of the Grecian eloquence_[139], that is, had
formed and perfected their style by an anxious and critical attention to
the rules and practice of the Greek rhetors, yet we need not conclude
that they wholly neglected to improve themselves in the knowledge and use
of this new language. So that, by the time they turned themselves to the
Gentiles, and still more by the time they applied themselves to pen the
books of the N. T. they might be tolerable masters even of the peculiar
phraseology of the Greek tongue, and might be able to adapt it, in good
measure, to the Greek idioms.

All this, I say, is very _supposeable_; because their turning to the
Gentiles was not till near TEN years after the descent of the Holy Ghost
upon the Apostles and the date of their earliest writings, penned for
the edification of the Church, was not till near TWENTY years after that
period: In all which time, they had full leisure and opportunity to
acquire a competent knowledge of the native idiomatic Greek, abundantly
sufficient to answer all ends of clearness and instruction.

But I go further, and say, It is not only very _supposeable_, and
perfectly consistent with all the Bishop has advanced on the subject of
inspiration, that the sacred writers _might_ thus improve themselves,
but it is, likewise, very _clear_ and _certain_ that they DID. How else
are we to account for that difference of style observable in the sacred
writers, whose expression is more or less coloured by their native Hebrew
idioms, according as their acquaintance with the Greek tongue was more or
less perfect? There were still, no doubt, very many of their own native
idioms interspersed in their most improved Greek: As must ever be the
case of writers who compose in a foreign tongue, whether acquired in the
ordinary way, or supernaturally infused into them: But these barbarisms,
as they are called, I mean these Syriasms or Hebraisms, are not so
constant and perpetual as to prevent their writings from giving _clear
intelligence_. In short, the style of the inspired writers is JUST that
which we should naturally expect it to be, on this supposition of its
being somewhat improved by use and exercise, and which the learned Bishop
_accurately_ (and in perfect _consistency_ with his main principle, _of
the terms only being inspired, with the congruous use of them_) defines
it to be, “_Greek words_ VERY FREQUENTLY _delivered in Syriac and Hebrew
idiom_[140].”

Thus, in every view, the Bishop’s _grand_ principle may be safely
admitted. All that we _need_ suppose, and therefore all that is
_reasonable_ to be supposed, is, _That the terms of the Greek language,
and a grammatical congruity in the use of them_, was miraculously
infused: The rest would be competently and sufficiently obtained by the
application of ordinary means, without a miracle.

After saying so little, or rather after saying indeed _nothing_,
that affects the Bishop’s principle, I cannot but think it is with
an ill grace you turn yourself to cavil at the _following incidental
observation_ of his Lordship, which yet will be found as true and as just
as any other he has made on this subject.

To those who might expect _that, besides the simple impression of the
Greek terms only, and their signification_ on the minds of the inspired
linguists, _another should have been made to inrich the mind with all
the ideas which go towards the composing the phrases and idioms of the
language so inspired_ (all which had been necessary, if the inspired
language had been intended for a perfect model of Grecian eloquence),
the Bishop replies—‘This latter impression seems to require, or rather
indeed implies, a previous one of the tempers, fashions, and opinions, of
the people to whom the language is native, upon the minds of them to whom
the language is thus imparted; because the phrase and idiom arises from,
and is dependent on those manners[141].’ But such an impression as this,
he goes on to shew, was not to be expected.

It is clear from this passage, that the Bishop is speaking of _an
impression_ necessary to be made on the minds of the Apostles, if the
inspired language had been so complete as to extend to all its native
phrases and idioms. If the Apostles were instantly to possess the
inspired Greek in this perfection, it is necessary to suppose that this
_last_ impression must, as well as that of the terms, be made upon them.
Can any thing, be more certain and undeniable than this _affirmation?_
Yet, in p. 86. of your book, you have this strange passage.

After having shewn, as you suppose, that the Bishop’s grand principle, of
the inspiration of the TERMS only, stands on a very insecure foundation,
“Perhaps,” you say, “it is no less HAZARDOUS to affirm, that a knowledge
of the idiom or phraseology of any language, _always_ implies a previous
knowledge of the customs and manners of those to whom it is vernacular.”

You intended, no doubt, in your censure of this hazardous position, to
oppose something which the Bishop had affirmed. Be pleased now to cast
your eye on the passage you criticize, and tell me where the Bishop
asserts, _that a_ KNOWLEDGE _of the idiom or phraseology of any language_
ALWAYS _implies a previous knowledge of the customs and manners of
those to whom it is vernacular_. What the Bishop asserts is, _That an_
IMPRESSION _of the phrases and idioms of an inspired language implies
a previous_ IMPRESSION _of the tempers, fashions, and opinions of the
people to whom the language is native, upon the minds of them to who
the language is_ THUS _imparted_: that is, if a knowledge of the idioms
had been _impressed_, a knowledge of the customs and manners from which
those idioms arise, and without a knowledge of which they could not be
understood (as they were to be, by the recipients of this spiritual
gift), must have been _impressed_ likewise. No, you say: a _knowledge_ of
the idiom of a language does not _always_ imply a previous _knowledge_
of the manners. Who says, it does? We may come to _know_ the idioms of
languages, without a _divine impression_: and without such impression,
for any thing appears to the contrary, the Bishop might suppose the
sacred writers came by their knowledge, so far as they possessed it,
of the Greek idioms. But the _impression_ of such idioms could only
come from another and _previous impression_ of the customs and manners:
because in this case, without a previous impression of the _customs and
manners_, the _idioms_ themselves, when impressed, could not have been
understood, nor consequently put to use, by the persons on whom this
impression was made. They had no time to recur to Lexicons, Grammars, and
Commentaries to know the meaning of the impressed idioms. How then were
they, on the instant, to know their meaning at all, but by a _previous
impression_ of the manners, from which they arose, and which would put
them into a capacity of understanding these impressed idioms?

In a word, the Bishop is speaking of SUPERNATURAL IMPRESSION: you, of
NATURAL KNOWLEDGE. No wonder, then, your reasoning and your learning,
in the concluding pages of this chapter, should look entirely _beside_
the matter in hand, or, at best, should look so _askew_ on the Bishop’s
_hazardous_ position. It is certain, you are far enough out of all danger
of encountering it, when you entrench yourself, at length, behind this
distant and secure conclusion—“that the knowledge of idiom is so far from
requiring, or implying a previous one of tempers, manners, _&c._ that the
very CONVERSE of this seems to be the safer principle; and that tempers
and manners are not to be learned, without some degree of previous
acquaintance with the peculiarities of a language[142]:” a proposition,
which though exceptionable enough, as you put it, and even suggesting
some pleasant ideas, I am in no humour, at present, to contest with you.

This, SIR, IS THE WHOLE of what I find advanced by you, that hath any
shew or appearance of being intended as a Confutation of the argument
by which the Bishop supports his FIRST PARADOX; in opposition to Dr.
MIDDLETON’S opinion, _That an inspired language must needs be a language
of perfect eloquence_. The Bishop has told us in very accurate terms what
he conceives the character of an inspired language must needs be: and I
have at least shewn, that the character he gives of it may be a just
one, notwithstanding any thing you have objected to it in your learned
Dissertation.

I now proceed to the Bishop’s SECOND PARADOX; which opposes Dr.
MIDDLETON’S _second Proposition, That eloquence is something congenial
and essential to human speech, and inherent in the constitution of
things_.

‘This supposes, says the Bishop, ‘that there is some certain ARCHETYPE
in nature, to which that quality refers, and on which it is formed and
modelled. And, indeed, admitting this to be the case, one should be
apt enough to conclude, that when the Author of nature condescended to
inspire one of these plastic performances of human art, he would make it
by the exactest pattern of the _Archetype_.

‘But the proposition is fanciful and false. Eloquence is not congenial
or essential to human speech, nor is there any Archetype in nature to
which that quality refers. It is accidental and arbitrary, and depends
on custom and fashion: it is a mode of human communication which changes
with the changing climates of the Earth; and is as various and unstable
as the genius, temper, and manners of its diversified inhabitants.
For what is PURITY but the use of such terms, with their multiplied
combinations, as the interest, the complexion, or the caprice of a writer
or speaker of authority hath preferred to its equals? What is ELEGANCE
but such a turn of idiom as a fashionable fancy hath brought into repute?
And what is SUBLIMITY but the application of such images, as arbitrary or
casual connexions, rather than their own native grandeur, have dignified
and ennobled? Now ELOQUENCE is a compound of these three qualities of
speech, and consequently must be as nominal and unsubstantial as its
constituent parts. So that, that mode of composition, which is a model of
_perfect eloquence_ to one nation or people, must appear extravagant or
mean to another. And thus in fact it was. Indian and Asiatic eloquence
were esteemed hyperbolic, unnatural, abrupt and puerile to the more
phlegmatic inhabitants of _Rome_ and _Athens_. And the Western eloquence,
in its turn, appeared nerveless and effeminate, frigid or insipid, to
the hardy and inflamed imaginations of the East. Nay, what is more,
each species, even of the most approved genus, changed its nature with
the change of clime and language; and the same expression, which, in
one place, had the utmost _simplicity_, had, in another, the utmost
_sublime_[143].’

The Bishop then proceeds to illustrate this last observation by a
famous instance, taken from the first chapter of _Genesis_, and then
recapitulates and enforces his general argument in the following manner.

‘Apply all this to the books of the N. T. an authorized collection,
professedly designed for the rule and direction of mankind. Now such a
rule demanded that it should be inspired of God. But inspired writing,
the objectors say, implies the most _perfect eloquence_. What human
model then was the Holy Ghost to follow? And a human model, of arbitrary
construction, it must needs be, because there was no other: Or, if there
were another, it would never suit the purpose, which was to make an
impression on the minds and affections; and this impression, such an
eloquence only as that which had gained the popular ear, could effect.
Should therefore the _Eastern_ eloquence be employed? But this would be
too inflated and gigantic for the _West_. Should it be the _Western_?
But this would be too cold and torpid for the _East_. Or, suppose the
_generic_ eloquence of the more polished nations was to be preferred,
which _species_ of it was to be employed? The rich exuberance of the
Asiatic Greeks, or the dry conciseness of the Spartans? The pure and
poignant ease and flowing sweetness of the Attic modulation, or the
strength and grave severity of the Roman tone? Or should all give way
to that African torrent, which arose from the fermented mixture of the
dregs of _Greece_ and _Italy_, and soon after overflowed the Church
with theological conceits in a sparkling luxuriancy of thought, and a
sombrous rankness of expression? Thus various were the species’s! all
as much decried by a different genus, and each as much disliked by a
different species, as the eloquence of the remotest East and West, by one
another[144].’

Thus far the learned Bishop, _with the spirit and energy_, as you well
observe, _of an ancient orator_[145]; and, let me add, with a justness
and force of reasoning, which would have done honour to the best
ancient Philosopher. But here we separate again. You maintain, with Dr.
MIDDLETON, _that eloquence is something congenial and essential to
human speech_: While _I_, convinced by the Bishop’s reasoning in these
paragraphs, maintain that it assuredly is not.

The subject, indeed, affords great scope to your rhetorical faculties;
and the cause, you maintain, being that, as you conceive, of the antient
orators, and even of eloquence itself, you suffer your enthusiasm to bear
you away, without controul; and, as is the natural effect of enthusiasm,
with so little method and precision of argument, that a cool examiner of
your work hardly knows how to follow you, or where to take aim at you,
in your aery and uncertain flight. However, I shall do my best to reduce
your Rhetoric to Reason; I mean, to represent the substance of what you
seem to intend by way of argument against the Bishop’s principle, leaving
your eloquence to make what impression on the gentle reader it may.

And, FIRST, in opposition, as you suppose, to the Bishop’s tenet, “_That
eloquence is_ NOT _something congenial and essential to human speech_,”
you apply yourself to shew, through several chapters, that tropes,
metaphors, allegories, and universally what are called by Rhetoricians
_figures of speech_, are natural and necessary expressions of the
passions, and have their birth in the very reason and constitution of
things. To make out this important point is the sole drift of your I, II,
III, and IVᵗʰ Chapters; in which you seem to me to be contending for that
which nobody denies, and to be disputing without an opponent. At least,
you can hardly believe that the Bishop of _Gloucester_ is to be told,
that metaphors, allegories, and similitudes are the offspring of nature
and necessity, HE, who has, _with the utmost justness and elegance of
reasoning_, as you well observe[146], explained this very point, himself,
in the DIVINE LEGATION.

What then are we to conclude from these elaborate chapters? Why, that by
some unlucky mistake or other, let us call it only by the softer name, of
_inattention_, you have entirely misrepresented the scope and purpose of
all the Bishop has said on the subject of eloquence. And that this is no
hasty or groundless charge, but the very truth of the case, will clearly
be seen from a brief examination of the Bishop’s theory, compared with
your reasonings upon it.

The position, _that eloquence is something congenial and essential to
human speech, supposes_, says the Bishop, _that there is some certain
Archetype in nature, to which that quality refers, and on which it is to
be formed and modelled_.

The Bishop, you see, requires an _Archetype_ to be pointed out to him of
that consummate eloquence, which is said to be _congenial and essential
to human speech_. The demand is surely reasonable; and not difficult
to be complied with, if such an Archetype do, in fact, subsist. But do
you know of any such? Do you refer him to any such? Do you specify that
_composition_? or do you so much as delineate that _sort_ of composition,
which will pass upon all men under the idea of an Archetype? Nothing of
all this. Permit us then to attend to the Bishop’s reasoning, by which he
undertakes to prove that no such Archetype does or can exist.

‘The proposition [that asserts, there is such an Archetype] is fanciful
and false. Eloquence is not congenial or essential to human speech, nor
is there any Archetype in nature to which that quality refers. It is
accidental and arbitrary, and depends on custom and fashion: It is a mode
of human communication which changes with the changing climates of the
earth; and is as various and unstable as the genius, temper, and manners
of its diversified inhabitants[147].’

The Bishop asserts _there is no Archetype_, because eloquence is a
variable thing, depending on custom and fashion; is nothing absolute
in itself; but relative to the fancies and prejudices of men, and
changeable, as the different climes they inhabit. This _general_ reason
seems convincing: it appeals to fact, to experience, to the evidence of
sense. But the learned Prelate goes further. He analyzes the complex
idea of eloquence: he examines the qualities of speech, of which it is
made up; and he shews that they are nominal and unsubstantial. Hence
it follows, again, That there is no Archetype in nature of perfect
eloquence; its very constituent parts, as they are deemed, having no
substance or reality in them.

But why should the Bishop condescend to this analysis, when his _general
argument_ seemed decisive of the question? For a good reason. When the
Bishop asked for an ARCHETYPE, though you are shy of producing any, he
well knew that the masters of Eloquence, those I mean who are accounted
such in these parts of the world, had pretended to give one. He knew
the authority of these masters of human speech with the sort of men, he
had to deal with: he therefore takes the Archetype, they have given, and
shews, upon their own ideas of eloquence, it is a mere phantom.

It is not to be supposed that the Bishop, in touching incidentally the
question of Eloquence in a theological treatise, should follow the Greek
and Latin rhetors through all the niceties and distinctions of their Art,
or should amuse himself or us with a minute detail of all the particulars
which go to the making up of this mighty compound, their ARCHETYPAL IDEA
of human eloquence. If he had been so pleased, and had had no better
business on his hands, it is likely he could have told us _news_, as you
have done, out of ARISTOTLE, LONGINUS, and CICERO. But his manner is
to say no more on a subject, than the occasion makes necessary; which,
in the present case, was no more than to acquaint his reader, in very
general terms, with the constituent parts of eloquence; which he resolves
into these three, PURITY, ELEGANCE, and SUBLIMITY.

But this you call _a most illogical division of Eloquence; for that the
Bishop hath not only enumerated the constituent parts imperfectly; but,
of the three qualities which he hath exhibited, the first is included in
the second, and the third is not necessarily and universally a part of
eloquence_[148].

The _enumeration_, you say, _is imperfect_. Yet _Purity_, I think,
denotes whatever comes under the idea of PROPRIETY, that is, of approved
custom, as well as grammatical use, in any language: _Elegance_,
expresses all those embellishments of composition, which are the effect
of ART: and I know no fitter term than _Sublimity_, to stand for those
qualities of eloquence, which are derived from the efforts of Genius,
or NATURAL PARTS. Now what else can be required to complete the idea of
Eloquence, and what defect of logic can there be in comprehending the
various properties of human speech under these three generic names? The
division is surely so natural and so intelligible, that few readers, I
believe, will be disposed to object with you, _that the first of the
three qualities is included in the second, and that the third is not
necessarily and universally a part of eloquence_.

But let the Bishop’s enumeration be ever so _logical_, you further
quarrel with his _idea_ of these three constituent parts of eloquence,
and his reasoning upon them.

‘What; says his Lordship, is PURITY but the use of such terms with their
multiplied combinations, as the interest, the complexion, or the caprice
of a writer or speaker of authority hath preferred to its equals?’

This idea of purity in language you think strange; and yet in the very
chapter in which you set yourself to contemplate and to reprobate this
_strange idea_, you cannot help resolving _purity_, into _usage and
custom_, that is, with QUINTILIAN, into _consensum_ (_eruditorum_); which
surely is but saying in other words with the Bishop, that it consists
_in the use of such terms, with their multiplied combinations, as the
interest, the complexion, or the caprice of a writer or speaker of
Authority hath preferred to its equals_—for _equals_ they undoubtedly
were, till that usage or custom took place. When this _consent of the
learned_ is once established, every writer or speaker, who pretends to
_purity_ of expression, must doubtless conform to it: but previously
to such consent, _purity_ is a thing arbitrary enough to justify the
Bishop’s conclusion, that this quality _is not congenial and essential to
human speech_.

Next, the Bishop asks, ‘What is ELEGANCE but such a turn of idiom as a
fashionable fancy hath brought into repute?’

Here, again, you grow very nice in your inquiries into the idea of
_fancy_, the idea of _fashion_, and I know not what of that sort. In
a word, you go on _defining_, and _distinguishing_ to the end of the
chapter, in a way that without doubt would be very edifying to your young
scholars in _Trinity College_, but, as levelled against the Bishop, is
certainly unseasonable and out of place. For define _elegance_ that you
will, it finally resolves into something that _is not of the essence
of human speech_, but factitious and arbitrary; as depending much on
the taste, the fancy, the caprice (call it what you please) of such
writers or speakers, as have obtained the popular vogue for this species
of eloquence, and so had the fortune to bring the turn of idiom and
expression, which they preferred and cultivated, into general repute.

‘Lastly,’ the Bishop asks, ‘What is SUBLIMITY but the application of such
images, as arbitrary or casual connexions, rather than their own native
grandeur, have dignified and ennobled?’

To this question you reply by asking another, _Whether sublimity doth
necessarily consist in the application of images?_ But, _first_, if
what is _called_ Sublimity, _generally_ consists in the application of
images, it is abundantly sufficient to the Bishop’s purpose: _Next_,
I presume to say, that the sublime of eloquence, or the impression
which a genius makes upon us by his expression, consists necessarily
and universally in the application of _images_, that is, of bright and
vivid ideas, which is the true, that is, the received sense of the word,
_images_, (however rhetoricians may have distinguished different kinds
of them, and expressed them by different names) in all rhetorical and
critical works. _Lastly_, I maintain that these bright and vivid ideas
are rendered _interesting_ to the reader or hearer from the influence of
ASSOCIATION, rather than _of their own native dignity and grandeur_: of
which I could give so many instances, that, for this reason, I will only
give your _own_, which you lay so much stress upon, of _the famous oath,
by the souls of those who fought at_ Marathon _and_ Platæa[149]: where
the peculiar ideas of _interest_, _glory_, and _veneration_, associated
to the _image_ or idea of the battle of _Marathon_ and _Platæa_, gave a
sublime and energy to this oath of DEMOSTHENES, _by the souls of those
that fought there_, in the conceptions of his countrymen, which no other
people could have felt from it, and of which you, Sir, with all your
admiration of it, have certainly a very faint conception at this time.

I should here have dispatched this article of _Sublimity_, but that you
will expect me to take some notice of your objection to what the Bishop
observes, ‘That this species of eloquence changed its nature, with
the change of clime and language; and that the same expression, which
in one place had the utmost _simplicity_, had, in another, the utmost
_sublime_[150]:’ An observation, which he illustrates and confirms by the
various fortune of the famous passage in _Genesis, God said, Let there be
light, and there was light; so sublime_, in the apprehension of LONGINUS
and BOILEAU, and so _simple_, in that of HUETIUS and LE CLERC.

To this pertinent illustration, most ingeniously explained and enforced
by the learned Prelate, you reply with much ease, “That this might well
be, and even in the same place,” and then proceed to _inform_ him of I
know not what union between _simplicity_ and _sublimity_; though you
_civilly_ add, “That it is a point known to every SMATTERER in criticism,
that these two qualities are so far from being inconsistent with each
other, that they are frequently united by a natural and inseparable
union[151].”

“Simplicity and _sublimity_ may be found together.” I think the
proposition false, in your sense of it, at least. But be it true, that
these qualities in expression may be found together. What then? The
question is of a passage, where these qualities, in the apprehension of
great critics, are found separately; the one side maintaining that it is
merely _simple_, the other, that it is merely _sublime_. _Simplicity_
is, here, plainly opposed to _sublimity_, and implies the absence of
it: BOILEAU, after LONGINUS, affirming that the expression _is_, and
his adversaries affirming that it is _not_, _sublime_. Can any thing
shew more clearly, that the _sublime_ of eloquent expression depends on
_casual associations_, and not on the nature of things?

But the Bishop goes further and tells us, what the _associations_ were
that occasioned these different judgments of the passage in question.
The ideas suggested in it were _familiar_, to the sacred writer: they
were _new_ and admirable, to the Pagan Critic. Hence the expression would
be of the greatest _simplicity_ in MOSES, though it would be naturally
esteemed by LONGINUS, infinitely _sublime_.

Here you cavil a little about the Effect of _familiarity_: but, as
conscious of the weakness of this part of your answer, _Not to insist_,
you say, _upon this, How comes it then that_ BOILEAU _and many other
Christian readers, to whom the ideas of creation were as familiar as to_
MOSES _himself, were yet affected by the sublime of this passage_? You
ask, How this comes to pass? How? Why in the way, in which so many other
strange things come to pass, by _the influence of authority_. LONGINUS
had said, the expression of this passage was _sublime_. And when he had
said this, the wonder is to find two men, such as HUETIUS and LE CLERC,
who durst, after that, honestly declare their own feelings, and profess
that, to them, the expression was _not_ sublime.

But more on this head of _Authority_ presently.

You see, Sir, I pass over these chapters _on the qualities of Eloquence_,
though they make so large a part of your _Dissertation_, very rapidly:
and I do it, not to escape from any force I apprehend there to be in your
argument or observations, but because I am persuaded that every man,
who knows what language is, and how it is formed, is so convinced that
those qualities of it by which it comes to be denominated _pure_, and
_elegant_, and _interesting_, are the effects of _custom_, _fashion_,
and _association_, that he would not thank me for employing many words
on so plain a point. Only, as you conclude this part of your work with
_an appeal_, which you think sufficiently _warranted, against the most
positive decisions of fashion, custom, or prejudice, to certain general
and established principles of rational criticism_, subversive, as you
think, of the Bishop’s whole theory, I shall be bold to tell you, as I
just now promised, what my opinion is, _of these established rules of_
RATIONAL CRITICISM: by which you will understand how little I conceive
the Bishop’s system to be affected by this confident appeal to _such
principles_.

I hold then, that what you solemnly call _the established principles
of rational criticism_ are only such principles as criticism hath seen
good to establish _on the practice of the Greek and Roman speakers
and writers_; the European eloquence being ultimately the mere product
and result of such practice; and European criticism being no further
_rational_ than as it accords to it. This is the way, in which ancient
and modern critics have gone to work in forming their systems: and their
systems deserve to be called _rational_, because they deliver such rules
as experience has found most conducive to attain the ends of eloquence in
these parts of the world. Had you attended to this obvious consideration,
it is impossible you should have alarmed yourself so much, as you seem to
have done, at the Bishop’s bold Paradox, as if it threatened the downfall
of Eloquence itself: which, you now see, stands exactly as it did, and
is just as secure in all its established rights and privileges on the
Bishop’s system of _there being no Archetype of Eloquence in nature_, as
upon your’s, _that there is one_. The rules of criticism are just the
same on either supposition, and will continue the same so long as we take
the Greek and Roman writers for our masters and models; nay, so long as
the influence of their authority, now confirmed and strengthened by the
practice of ages, and struck deep into the European notions and manners,
shall subsist.

You need, therefore, be in no pain for the interests of Eloquence, which
are so dear to you; nor for the dignity of your _Rhetorical office_ in
the University of _Dublin_; which is surely of importance enough, if you
teach your _young hearers_ how to become eloquent in that scene where
their employment of it is likely to fall; without pretending to engage
them in certain chimerical projects how they may attain an essential
universal eloquence, or such as will pass for eloquence in all ages and
countries of the world.

You see, Sir, if this opinion of mine be a truth, that it overturns
at once the whole structure of your book. We, no doubt, who have been
lectured in Greek and Roman eloquence, think it preferable to any
other; and we think so, because it conforms to certain rules which our
criticism has established, without considering that those rules are
only established on the successful practice of European writers and
speakers, and are therefore no rules at all in such times and places
where a different, perhaps a contrary, practice is followed with the
same success. Let a Spartan, an Asiatic, an African, a Chinese system
of rhetoric be given: Each of these shall differ from other, yet each
shall be best and most _rational_, as relative to the people for
whom it is formed. Nay, to see how groundless all your fancies of
a _rational essential eloquence are_, do but reflect that even the
European eloquence, though founded on the same general principles, is
yet different in different places in many respects. I could tell you of
a country, and that at no great distance, where that which is thought
supremely _elegant_ passes in another country, not less conversant in the
_established principles of rational criticism_, for FINICAL; while what,
in this country, is accepted under the idea of _sublimity_, is derided,
in that other, as no better than BOMBAST.

What follows, now, from this appeal to _experience_, against your
appeal to the _established rules of criticism_? Plainly this: That all
the rhetors of antiquity put together are no authority against what
the Bishop of _Gloucester_ asserts concerning the nature of eloquence;
since THEY only tell us (and we will take their word for it) what will
_please or affect_ under _certain_ circumstances, while the BISHOP only
questions whether the same rules, under ALL circumstances, will enable a
writer or speaker to _please and affect_. Strange! that you should not
see the inconsequence of your own reasoning. The Bishop says, The rules
of eloquence are for the most part, local and arbitrary: No, you say,
The rules are not local and arbitrary, FOR they were held reasonable
ones at _Athens_ and _Rome_. Your very answer shews that they were local
and arbitrary. You see, then, why I make so slight on this occasion
of all your multiplied citations from the ancient writers, which, how
respectable soever, are no decisive authority, indeed no authority at
all, in the present case.

Hitherto, the Bishop had been considering eloquence ONLY SO FAR as it
is founded in arbitrary principles and local prejudices. For, though
his expression had been general, he knew very well that his thesis
admitted some limitation; having directly affirmed of _the various modes
of eloquence_, not that they were altogether and in all respects, but
MOSTLY, _fantastical_ (p. 67), which, though you are pleased to charge
it upon him as an _inconsistency_[152], the reader sees is only a
necessary qualification of his general thesis, such as might be expected
in so exact a writer as the learned Bishop. He now then attends to this
limitation, and considers what effect it would have on his main theory.

‘It will be said, _Are there not some more substantial principles of
eloquence, common to all_ the various species that have obtained in the
world?—Without doubt, there are.—Why then should not these have been
employed, to do credit to the Apostolic inspiration? For good reasons:
respecting both the speaker and the hearers. For, what _is_ eloquence
but a persuasive turn given to the elocution to supply that inward, that
conscious persuasion of the speaker, so necessary to gain a fair hearing?
But the first preachers of the Gospel did not need a succedaneum to that
inward conscious persuasion. And what is the _end_ of eloquence, even
when it extends no further than to those more general principles, but to
stifle reason and inflame the passions? But the propagation of Christian
truths indispensably requires the aid of reason, and requires no other
human aid[153].’

Here, again, you are quite scandalized at the Bishop’s paradoxical
assertions concerning the _nature_ and _end_ of eloquence; and you differ
as widely from him now he argues on the supposition of there being _some
more substantial principles of eloquence_, as you did before, when he
contended that _most_ of those we call principles were arbitrary and
capricious things. You even go so far as to insult him with a string
of questions, addressed _ad hominem_: for, having quoted some passages
from his book, truly eloquent and rhetorical, you think you have him at
advantage, and can now confute him out of his own mouth.

“Can any thing,” you ask, “be more brilliant, more enlivened, more truly
rhetorical, than these passages? What then are we to think of the writer
and his intentions? Is he really sincere in his reasoning? or are these
eloquent forms of speech so many marks of falshood? Were they assumed as
_a succedaneum to conscious persuasion_? And is the end and design of
them to _stifle reason and inflame the passions_[154]?”

To blunt the edge of these sharp and pressing interrogatories, give
me leave to observe that the main question agitated by the Bishop is,
whether divine inspiration can be reasonably expected to extend so
far as to infuse a perfect model of eloquence, and to over-rule the
inspired Apostles in such sort, as that all they write or speak should be
according to the rules of the most consummate rhetoric. He resolves this
question in the _negative_: _first_, by shewing that there is no such
thing as what would be deemed a perfect model of eloquence subsisting in
nature; a great part of what is called eloquence in all nations being
arbitrary and chimerical; and, _secondly_, by shewing that even those
principles, which may be justly thought more substantial, were, for
certain reasons, not deserving the solicitous and over-ruling care of a
divine inspirer. His reasons are these: _First_, that eloquence, when
most genuine, _is but a persuasive turn given to the elocution to supply
that inward, that conscious persuasion of the speaker, so necessary to
gain a fair hearing, and which the first preachers of the Gospel had
already_, by the influence and impression of the holy Spirit upon their
minds: And, _next, that the end of eloquence, even when it extends no
further than to those more general principles, is but to stifle reason
and inflame the passions_; an _end_ of a suspicious sort, and which
the propagation of Christian truths, the proper business of the sacred
writers or speakers, did not require.

You see these _reasons_, in whatever defective, are both of them founded
in _one common_ principle, which the Bishop every where goes upon, and
the best philosophy warrants, That, when the Deity interposes in human
affairs, he interposes no further than is _necessary_ to the end in
view, and leaves every thing else to the intervention and operation of
second causes. The Apostles wanted NO succedaneum to an inward conscious
persuasion, which the observance of the general principles of eloquence
supplies; they were not, therefore, supernaturally instructed in them.
They wanted NO assistance from a power that tends _to stifle reason and
inflame the passions_: it was not, therefore, miraculously imparted to
them. Every thing here is rational, and closely argued. What was not
necessary was not done. Not a word about the inconvenience and inutility,
in all cases, of recurring to the rules and practice of a chaste
eloquence: not a word to shew that, where eloquence is employed, there is
nothing but fraud and _falshood_, no inward persuasion, no consciousness
of truth: not a word to insinuate that either you or the Bishop should
be restrained from being as eloquent on occasion as you might have it
in your power to be, or might think fit: nay, not a word against the
Apostles themselves having recourse to the aids of human eloquence, if
they had access to them, and found them expedient; only these aids were
not REQUIRED, that is, were not to be claimed or expected from divine
inspiration.

Thus stands the Bishop’s reasoning, perfectly clear and just. The only
room for debate is, whether his ideas of the _nature_ and _end_ of
eloquence be just, too. _Eloquence_, he says, _is but a persuasive turn
given to the elocution, to supply that inward, that conscious persuasion
of the speaker, so necessary to gain a fair hearing_. The general
affirmation you do not, indeed cannot, reject or controvert; for, the
great master of eloquence himself confirms it in express words—_Tum
optimè dicit orator, cum_ VIDETUR _vera dicere_. QUINCTIL. l. iv. c. 2.
And, again, _Semper ita dicat_, TANQUAM _de causâ optimè sentiat_. l.
v. c. 13; that is, an inward conscious persuasion is to be supplied by
the speaker’s art. The Bishop’s idea then of the _nature_ of eloquence
is, as far as I can see, the very same idea which QUINCTILIAN had of it.
Both agree, that eloquence is _such a turn of the elocution as supplies
that inward conscious persuasion so necessary to the speaker’s success_.
The Bishop adds, that this _supply_ the inspired writers did not want.
But you will say, perhaps, that merely human writers may have this
_inward conscious persuasion_, as well as the inspired. What then? if
human writers can do without this succedaneum, which human eloquence
supplies to inward persuasion, who obliges them to have recourse to
it? Yes, but they cannot do _so well_ without it. Who then forbids
them to have recourse to it? For, neither are the inspired writers
barred of this privilege: only, as being simply UNNECESSARY, it was not
præternaturally supplied. Your perplexity on this subject arises from
not distinguishing between what is _absolutely necessary_, and what is
_sometimes expedient_: Divine inspiration provides only for the _first_;
the _latter_ consideration belongs to human prudence.

But it would be, further, a mistake to say, _that merely human writers
have their inward conscious persuasion as well as the divine_. They may
have it, indeed, from the conclusions of their own reason, but have they
it in the same degree of strength and vivacity, have they the same _full
assurance of faith_, as those who have truth immediately impressed upon
them by the hand of God? I suppose, not.

But the Bishop’s idea of the END of eloquence revolts you as much as
his idea of its _nature_. _What_, says he, _is the_ END _of eloquence,
even when it extends no further than to those more general principles,
but to stifle reason and inflame the passions_? And what other end, I
pray you, can it have? You will say, To adorn, recommend, and enforce
truth. It may be so, sometimes: this, we will say, is its more legitimate
end. But even this end is not accomplished but by _stifling reason
and inflaming the passions_: that is, eloquence prevents reason from
adverting _simply_ to the truth of things, and to the force of evidence;
and it does this by agitating and disturbing the natural and calm
state of the mind with rhetorical _diminutions or amplifications_. VIS
_oratoris_ OMNIS, says QUINCTILIAN, _in_ AUGENDO MINUENDOQUE _consistit_.
[l. viii. c. 3. sub fin.] Now what is this but _stifling reason_? But
it goes further: it _inflames the passions_, the ultimate end it has in
view from _stifling reason_, or putting it of its guard. And for this,
again, we have the authority of QUINCTILIAN, _affectibus perturbandus
et ab intentione auferendus orator. Non enim solum oratoris est docere,
sed plus eloquentia_ CIRCA MOVENDUM _valet_. l. iv. c. 5. Or, would
you see a passage from the great master of rhetoric, where his _idea_
of this double end of eloquence is given, at once; it follows in these
words—_Ubi_ ANIMIS _judicum_ VIS _afferenda est, et_ AB IPSA VERI
CONTEMPLATIONE _abducenda mens_, IBI PROPRIUM ORATORIS OPUS EST. l.
vi. c. 2. That is, where the _passions are to be inflamed, and reason
stifled, there is the proper use and employment of the rhetorical art_.
So exactly has the Bishop traced the footsteps of the great master, when
he gave us his idea of the END of eloquence!

Well, but this _end_, you say, is IMMORAL. So much the worse for
your system; for such is the undoubted end of eloquence, even by the
confession of its greatest patrons and advocates themselves. But what?
Is this end immoral in all cases? And have you never then heared, _that
the passions_, as wicked things as they are, _may be set on the side of
truth_? In short, Eloquence, like Ridicule, which is, indeed, no mean
part of it, may be either well or ill employed; and though it cannot be
truly said that the end of either is simply _immoral_, yet it cannot be
denied that what these _modes of address_ propose to themselves in ALL
cases is, _to stifle reason and inflame the passions_.

The Bishop’s idea, then, of the end of eloquence, I presume, is fairly
and fully justified. But your complaint now is, that the Bishop does not
himself abide by this idea. For you find a contradiction between what his
Lordship says here—_that the_ END _of eloquence, even when it extends
no further than to those more general principles, is but to style
reason and inflame the passions_, and what he says elsewhere—_that the_
PRINCIPAL _end of eloquence_, AS IT IS EMPLOYED IN HUMAN AFFAIRS, _is to
mislead reason and to cajole the fancy and affections_[155]. But these
propositions are perfectly consistent; nor was the _latter_ introduced
so much as for the purpose of _qualifying and palliating_ any thing
that might be deemed offensive in the _former_. For though eloquence,
chastely employed, goes no further than to _stifle reason and inflame the
passions_ (and the chastest eloquence, if it deserves the name, goes thus
far), yet _the principal end of eloquence, as it is employed in human
affairs_, is to _mislead_ reason, which is something more than _stifling_
it; and to _cajole_, which is much worse than to _inflame_, the passions.
Reason may be STIFLED, and the passions INFLAMED, when the speaker’s
purpose is to inculcate _right and truth_: Reason is only in danger of
being MISLED, and the fancy and affections of being CAJOLED, when wrong
and error are enforced by him. So very inaccurate was your conception of
the Bishop’s expression! which I should not have explained so minutely,
but to shew you that, when you undertook to expose such a writer, as
the Bishop, you should have studied his expression with more care, and
should have understood the force of words at another rate, than you seem
to have done in this instance.

Still you will ask, if the _end_ be so legitimate, why should not the
inspired writers be trusted with this powerful engine of human eloquence?
The Bishop gives several reasons: It is a _suspicious instrument_, p.
57. It was an _improper_ instrument for heaven-directed men, whose
strength was not to be derived from _the wisdom of men_, but from _the
power of God_, p. 59. But the direct and immediate answer is contained,
as I observed, in these words—_The propagation of Christian truths
indispensably requires the aid of reason, and requires no other aid_.
1. Christianity, which is _a reasonable service_, was of necessity to
be propagated by force of reason; in the Bishop’s better expression, IT
INDISPENSABLY REQUIRED THE AID OF REASON; but _Reason_, he tells us in
the next words, _can never be fairly and vigorously exerted but in that
favourable interval which precedes the appeal to the passions_. 2. The
Propagation of Christianity, which indispensably required the aid of
reason, REQUIRED NO OTHER HUMAN AID: that is, no other human means were
simply REQUISITE or NECESSARY. God, therefore, was pleased to leave
his inspired servants to the prudential use and exercise of their own
natural or acquired talents; but would not supernaturally endow them with
this _unnecessary_ power of eloquent words. The inspired writers, even
the most learned and, by nature, the most eloquent of them, made a very
sparing use of such talents, _proudly sacrificing them_, as the Bishop
nobly and eloquently says, _to the glory of the everlasting Gospel_.
But as the _end_ was not, so neither was the _use_ of eloquence, simply
immoral or evil in itself. They were considerations of _propriety_,
_prudence_, and _piety_, which restrained the Apostles generally, but not
always, in the use of eloquence; which was less _decent_ in their case,
and which they could very well do without. When the same considerations
prompt other men, under other circumstances, to affect the way of
eloquence, it may safely, and even commendably, for any thing the Bishop
has said on this subject as it concerns divine inspiration, be employed.

Admitting then the Bishop’s ideas both of the _nature_ and _end_ of
eloquence, the _want_ of this character in the sacred writings is only
vindicated, not _the thing itself_ interdicted or disgraced.

The conclusion from the whole of what the Bishop has advanced on this
argument, follows in these words:

‘What, therefore, do our ideas of fit and right tell us is required in
the _style_ of an universal law? Certainly no more than this—To employ
those aids which are common to _all_ language as such; and to reject
what is peculiar to _each_, as they are casually circumstanced. And
what are these aids but CLEARNESS and PRECISION? By these, the mind and
sentiments of the Composer are intelligibly conveyed to the reader. These
qualities are essential to language, as it is distinguished from jargon:
they are eternally the same, and independent on custom or fashion. To
give a language _clearness_ was the office of Philosophy; to give it
_precision_ was the office of Grammar. Definition performs the first
service by a resolution of the ideas which make up the terms: Syntaxis
performs the second by a combination of the several parts of speech into
a systematic congruity: these are the very things in language which are
least positive, as being conducted on the principles of metaphysics and
logic. Whereas, all besides, from the very power of the elements, and
signification of the terms, to the tropes and figures of composition,
are arbitrary; and, what is more, as these are a deviation from those
principles of metaphysics and logic, they are frequently vicious. This,
the great master quoted above [QUINCTILIAN] freely confesseth, where
speaking of that ornamented speech, which he calls σχήματα λέξεως,
he makes the following confession and apology—esset enim omne schema
VITIUM, si non peteretur, sed accideret. Verum auctoritate, vetustate,
consuetudine, plerumque defenditur, sæpe etiam RATIONE QUADAM. Ideoque
cum sit a simplici rectoque loquendi genere deflexa, _virtus_ est, si
habet PROBABILE ALIQUID quod sequatur[156].’

There is no part of your book in which you exult more than in the
confutation of this obnoxious paragraph. It is to be hoped, you do it on
good grounds—but let us see what those grounds are.

The Bishop, in the paragraph you criticize in your vᵗʰ Chapter, had said
_that tropes and figures of composition_, under certain circumstances,
there expressed, are frequently _vicious_. You make a difficulty of
understanding this term, and doubt whether his Lordship means _vice_ in
a _critical_, or _moral_ sense. I take upon me to answer roundly for the
Bishop, that he meant _vice_ in the _critical_ sense: for he pronounces
such tropes and figures _vicious_, ONLY _as they are a deviation from
the principles of_ METAPHYSICS AND LOGIC; and therefore I presume he
could not mean _vice_ in the other sense, which is _a deviation from the
principles of_ ETHICS. All you say on this subject, then, might have been
well spared.

This incidental question, or doubt of your’s, being cleared up, let us
now attend to the _more substantial grounds_ you go upon, in your censure
of the learned Bishop.

He had been speaking of _clearness_ and _precision, as the things in
language, which are least positive. Whereas, all besides, from the very
power of the elements and signification of the terms, to the tropes and
figures of composition, are arbitrary; and, what is more, as these are a
deviation from the principles of metaphysics and logic, are frequently
vicious._

In _the first place_, you say, _it were to be wished that his Lordship
had pleased to express himself with a little more precision_—_Want of
precision_ is not, I think, a fault with which the Bishop’s writings
are commonly charged; and I wish it may not appear in this instance,
as it did lately in another, that your misapprehension of his argument
arises from the very _precision_ of his expression. But in what does
this supposed _want of precision_ consist? Why, in not qualifying this
sentence, passed on _the tropes and figures of Composition_, which, from
the general terms, in which it is delivered, falls indiscriminately upon
ALL writers and speakers; for that “ALL men, who have ever written and
spoken, have _frequently_ used this mode of elocution, which is said to
be _frequently_ vicious[157].” Well, but from the word, _frequently_,
which you make yourself so pleasant with, it appears that the Bishop
_had_ qualified _this bold and dangerous position_.—Yes, but this makes
the position _still more bold_. Indeed! The Bishop is then singularly
unhappy, to have his position, _first_, declared bold for want of being
qualified, and, _then_, bolder still, for being so. But your reason
follows.

“What makes this position still more hardy is, that, however the
conclusion seems confined and restrained by the addition of that
qualifying word [frequently], yet the premises are general and unlimited.
It is asserted without any restriction, that figurative composition is
a deviation from the principles of metaphysics and logic. If then it be
vicious _as_ it is, i. e. _because_ [_quatenus_] it is such a deviation,
it must be not only _frequently_ but _always_ vicious; a very severe
censure denounced against almost every speaker, and every writer, both
sacred and prophane, that ever appeared in the world[158].”

Here your criticism grows very logical; and, notwithstanding the
confidence I owned myself to have in the _precision_ of the Bishop’s
style, I begin to be in pain how I shall disengage him from so exact and
philosophical an objector. Yet, as the occasion calls upon me, I shall
try what may be done. _As these_ [tropes and figures of composition]
_are a deviation from the principles of metaphysics and logic, they are
frequently_ VICIOUS. Since the _Attribute_ of this proposition is so
peculiarly offensive to you, your first care, methinks, should have been
to gain precise and exact ideas of the _subject_; without which it is not
possible to judge, whether what is affirmed of it be exceptionable, or no.

By _tropes and figures of composition_, you seem to understand
_metaphors_, _allegories_, _similitudes_, and whatever else is vulgarly
known under the name of _figures of speech_. For in p. 27, you speak
of _Allegories, Metaphors and_ OTHER _tropes and figures, which, you
say, are no more than comparisons and similitudes expressed in another
form_: And your concern, throughout this whole chapter, is for the
vindication of _such tropes and figures_ from the supposed charge of
their being _a deviation from the principles of metaphysics and logic_.
But now, on the other hand, I dare be confident that the Bishop meant
these terms, not in this _specific_, but in their _generic_ sense, as
expressing any kind of change, deflexion, or deviation from the plain and
common forms of language. I say, I am _confident_ of this, 1. because
the precise sense of the words _is_ such as I represent it to be; and
I have observed, though, it seems, you have not, that the Bishop is of
all others the most _precise_ in his expression. 2. Because QUINCTILIAN
authorizes this use of those terms, who tells us that—_per tropos verti
formas non verborum modo, sed et sensuum, et compositionis_, l. viii.
c. 6. And as to _figuram_, he defines it to be (as the word itself, he
says, imports) _conformatio quædam orationis, remota à communi et primum
se offerente ratione_, l. ix. c. 1. _words_, large enough to take in
every possible change and alteration of common language. So that _all
manners and forms_ of language, different from the common ones, may,
according to QUINCTILIAN, be fitly denominated _tropes and figures of
composition_. 3. I conclude this to be the Bishop’s meaning, because the
_specific sense_ of these words was not sufficient to his purpose, which
was to speak of ALL kinds of tropical and figured speech. Now though
_allegories, metaphors and other tropes and figures, which are no more
than comparisons and similitudes, expressed in another form_, belong
indeed to the _genus_ of figured language, they are by no means the whole
of it, as so great a master of rhetoric, as yourself, very well knows.
4. I conclude this, from the _peculiar mode_ of his expression: if the
Bishop had said simply _tropes and figures of speech_, I might perhaps
(if nothing else had hindered) have taken him to mean, as you seem to
have done, only _metaphors, allegories, and other tropes and figures,
expressing, in another form, comparisons and similitudes_, which, in
vulgar use, come under the name of _tropes and figures of speech_: But
when he departs from that common form of expression, and puts it, _tropes
and figures of_ COMPOSITION, I infer that so exact a writer, as the
Bishop, had his reasons for this change, and that he intended by it to
express _more_ than _tropes and figures of speech_ usually convey, indeed
ALL that can any way relate to the tropical and figurative use of words
in _literary composition_.

It is now seen what the SUBJECT of this bold proposition is: namely,
_tropical or figured language, in general_. This figured language,
as it is a deviation from the principles of metaphysics and logic,
is frequently _vicious_; i. e. is an acknowledged vice or fault in
composition, as such. We now then see the force of the PREDICATE.

Well; but if this figured language “be vicious _as_ it is, _i. e._
_because_, _quatenus_, it is such a deviation, it must not only be
_frequently_, but _always_ vicious.” The premises are general and
unlimited: so must, likewise, be the conclusion. What sense, then, is
there in the word, _frequently_? or what room, for that qualification?

See, what it is to be a great proficient in logic, before one has well
learnt one’s Grammar! As, i. e. _because_, _quatenus_, say you. How
exactly and critically the English language may be studied in _Dublin_,
I pretend not to say: But we in _England_ understand the particle as,
not only in the sense of _because_, _quatenus_, but also, and, I think,
more frequently, in the sense of _in proportion as_, _according as_,
or, if you will needs have a Latin term to explain an English term,
_prout, perinde ac_. So that the proposition stands thus: _These tropes
and figures_, ACCORDING AS _they are a deviation from the principles of
metaphysics and logic, are frequently vicious_. The premises, you now
see, are qualified, as well as the conclusion. Figured language, WHEN it
deviates from the principles of metaphysics and logic, is—what? _always_
vicious? But the Bishop did not say, that figured language is _always_
a deviation from those principles. He only says, _when_ it so deviates,
it is vicious. It is implied in the expression that figured language
at least _sometimes_ deviates from those principles, and the Bishop,
as appears, is of opinion that it _frequently_ deviates: He therefore
says, consistently with his premises, and with his usual accuracy, It is
_frequently_ vicious.

In short, the Bishop’s argument, about which you make so much noise, if
drawn out in mood and figure, would, I suppose, stand thus—“Tropical and
figured language, WHEN it deviates from the principles of metaphysics
and logic, is vicious—Tropical and figured language FREQUENTLY deviates
from those principles—Therefore tropical and figured language is
FREQUENTLY vicious.” And where is the defect of sense or logic, I want
to know, in this argumentation? But you impatiently ask, Are _metaphors,
allegories, and comparisons_ then included in this _figured language_,
which is pronounced _vicious_? To this question I can only reply, That I
know not whether _metaphors, allegories, and comparisons_, are, in the
Bishop’s opinion, _deviations_ from the principles of metaphysics and
logic; for I cannot find that he says any thing, in _particular_, of
this kind of tropes and figures. But if you, or any one for you, will
shew clearly, that _metaphors, allegories, and comparisons_ are such
_deviations_, the Bishop, for any thing I know, might affirm, and might
be justified in affirming, that they were in themselves _vicious_. But
be not too much alarmed for your favourites, if he should: They would
certainly keep their ground, though convicted of such _vice_; at least
unless the Rhetoricians of our time should be so dull as not to be able
to find out what QUINCTILIAN calls _probabile aliquid_, some probable
pretext to justify or excuse them.

But, instead of troubling ourselves to guess what the Bishop _might_
say on a subject on which he has said nothing, it is to better purpose
to attend to what he _has_ said, on the subject in question. The Bishop
_has_ said, _That tropical and figured language is frequently vicious_.
You ask when? He replies, _When it deviates from the principles of
metaphysics and logic_. But in what particular instances does this
appear? He tells you this too. He gives you instances enough, to justify
his affirmation, that tropical and figured language is _frequently_
vicious; for he exemplifies his affirmation in ONE WHOLE class of
such figured speech, as deviates from the principles of metaphysics
and logic, and is therefore vicious, namely, _in the class of verbal
figures_. ‘This, [_i. e._ the truth of the affirmation, That figured
language, according as it is found to be a deviation from the principles
of metaphysics and logic, is frequently vicious] the great master,
QUINCTILIAN, freely confesseth, where, speaking of that ornamented
speech, which he calls σχήματα λέξεως, he makes the following confession
and apology—esset enim omne schema VITIUM, si non peteretur, sed
accideret. Verum auctoritate, vetustate, consuetudine, plerumque
defenditur, sæpe etiam RATIONE QUADAM. Ideoque cum sit à simplici
rectoque loquendi genere deflexa, _virtus est_, si habet PROBABILE
ALIQUID quod sequatur[159].’

The difficulty, I trust, now begins to clear up. Figured language, is
frequently vicious. Of this we have an instance given in one entire
species of figured or ornamented speech, namely σχήματα λέξεως, or
_verbal figures_. Can any thing be clearer and plainer? Yet, because you
had taken it into your head that by _tropes and figures of composition_
the Bishop understood, nay could only understand, _metaphors, allegories,
and comparisons_, you dreamt of nothing, here, but the same fine things.
And though QUINCTILIAN lay before the Bishop, when he quoted these
words, though the Bishop’s own express words shew the contrary, for he
speaks not of tropes and figures in general, much less of such tropes
and figures as you speak of, but solely of _that ornamented speech_,
called σχήματα λέξεως, you will needs have him quote QUINCTILIAN in
this place as speaking of _Rhetorical figures_. But let us attend to
QUINCTILIAN’S words. _Esset omne schema vitium, si non peterentur,
sed acciderent._ What! Shall we think the Bishop could mean to affirm
of _rhetorical figures_, that they would _always be vicious_, if they
_were not sought for, but occurred of themselves_? For that, I think,
is the translation of—_si non peterentur, sed acciderent_. Surely one
way, and that the chief, in which _rhetorical figures, metaphors,
allegories, and comparisons_, become vicious, is, when they ARE _sought
for, sollicitously hunted after, and affectedly brought in_. The very
contrary happens with regard to these verbal figures: they are vicious,
when they _are_ NOT _sought for and purposely affected_. I conclude
then, that his Lordship, who surely does not want common sense, and, I
think, understands Latin, did not, and could not intend to exemplify his
observation in the case of _rhetorical figures_.

Still you are something puzzled and perplexed by the Bishop’s
observation. Admitting him to mean, as his author does, _verbal figures_,
how can these be considered _as a deviation from the principles of
metaphysics and logic_? How? Why, has not the Bishop told us, or, if
he had not, is it not certain in itself, that _to give a language
clearness is the office of philosophy; and that Definition, a part of
Logic, performs that service by a resolution of the ideas, which make up
the terms_? But these verbal figures are often a deviation from, nay a
willful defiance of, _all logical definition_. Witness the very instance
you and QUINCTILIAN give us, in VIRGIL’S _timidi damæ_. Logic defines
_Damæ_ to be the _females_ of that species of animals called _Deer_. The
figurative VIRGIL confounds this distinction by using this term for the
_males_, as well as females. But, universally, _Grammar_ itself, whose
peculiar office is to _give precision to language_, is a part of logic:
the Bishop says, _its rules are conducted on the principles of Logic_.
But _verbal figures_, even when they do not offend against the strictness
of definition, are universally violations, in some degree or other, of
_Grammar_, i. e. of _Logic_. Yet these violations of _Logical Grammar_,
QUINCTILIAN tells us, may be allowed, _si habent probabile aliquid quod
sequantur_; that is, for some fantastical reason or other, by which the
masters of Rhetoric are pleased to recommend them to us.

And now, Sir, let me ask, what becomes of your fine comment on
QUINCTILIAN’S chapter concerning _verbal figures_, and, particularly,
of your nice distinction between these, and _rhetorical figures_, which
the Bishop, no doubt, wanted to be informed of? The issue of your
exploits in Logic and Criticism is now seen to be this, That you have
grossly misrepresented the Bishop; and needlessly, at least, explained
QUINCTILIAN. _First_, you make the Bishop talk of _rhetorical figures_
ONLY, in the _specific_ sense of these terms, when his Lordship was all
the while speaking of _figured language, in general_. _Next_, you make
him deliver a bold position concerning rhetorical figures, as being
_frequently_ vicious, because _always_ deviations from the principles of
metaphysics and logic; when all he maintains, is, That figured language
is FREQUENTLY vicious, according as it deviates from those principles;
and, in particular, that _that_ part of figured speech, called
grammatical or verbal figures, is ALWAYS vicious.

To conclude, if you had shewn any compunction, or even common respect in
exposing what you took to be the Bishop’s absurdities on this subject,
I should have made a conscience of laying you open on this head of
_Rhetorical and Grammatical figures_. As it is, your unmerciful triumph
over the poor Bishop makes it allowable for me to lay your dealing with
him before the reader in all its nakedness; and, after what has been
said, I cannot do it better than by letting him see how the Bishop’s
argumentation is represented by you, as drawn out in your own words, and
that in full mood and figure.

“I should by no means,” say you, “willingly misrepresent the argument of
my Lord Bishop; but upon repeated examination of the passage here quoted,
I must state it thus:

“Quinctilian declares, that what are called grammatical figures are
really no more than faulty violations of grammatical rules, unless when
purposely introduced upon some reasonable or plausible grounds.”

Therefore,

“He confesses that tropes and figures of composition, as they are a
deviation from the principles of metaphysics and logic, are frequently
vicious.”

You add, “If this be a fair representation, it were to be wished that the
learned author _had so far condescended to men of confined abilities_, as
to explain the connexion between these two propositions[160].”

As the _learned author_, I guess, may be better employed than in this
unnecessary task, which you _wish_ to impose upon him, I have taken
upon me to discharge that office, with less able hands; and, yet, have
_explained the connexion between these two propositions_ in such sort,
that, if I mistake not, we shall never hear more from you, of any
inconsistency between them.

I have NOW, Sir, gone through the several particulars of your
Dissertation, and have shewn, I think, clearly and invincibly, that all
your objections to the Bishop’s paradoxical sentiments on the subject of
Eloquence are mistaken and wholly groundless.

The TWO propositions his Lordship took upon him to confute, 1. _That an
inspired language must needs be a language of perfect eloquence_; and,
2. _That eloquence is something congenial and essential to human speech,
and inherent in the constitution of things_: These two propositions,
I say, are so thoroughly confuted by the Bishop, that not one word of
all you say in any degree affects his reasoning, or supports those two
propositions against the force of it. I am even candid enough to believe
that, on further thoughts, you will not yourself be displeased with this
ill success of your attack on the learned Prelate’s _principles_; which
are manifestly calculated for the service of religion and the honour of
inspired scripture. For, though you attempt to shew us in your two last
chapters, how the honour of inspired scripture may be saved on _other
principles_, yet allow me to say that, for certain reasons, I much
question the validity of those principles; at least, that the persons,
most concerned in this controversy, will by no means subscribe to them.
If there be an Archetype of eloquence in nature, ‘one should be apt
enough, as the Bishop says, to conclude, that when the Author of nature
condescended to inspire one of these plastic performances of human art,
he would make it by the exactest pattern of the Archetype[161].’ Or,
whatever you and I and the Bishop might conclude, assure yourself that
the objectors to inspired scripture will infallibly draw that conclusion.
And, when they do so, and fortify themselves, besides, with the authority
of so great a master of eloquence, as yourself, it will be in vain, I
doubt, to oppose to them your ingenious harangues and encomiums on the
eloquent composition of the sacred scriptures. Nay, it would give you, no
doubt, some pain to find that, though they should accept your authority
for the truth of their favourite principle of there being _an Archetype
in nature of perfect eloquence_, they would yet reject your _harangues
and encomiums_ with that disdain which is so natural to them. The
honour of sacred scripture will then hang on a question of _Taste_: and
unluckily the objectors are of such authority in that respect, that there
is no appeal from their decisions of it.

The contemplation of these _inconveniencies_, together with the _love of
truth_, determined me to hazard this address to you. I will not deny,
besides, that the mere _justice_ due to a great character, whom I found
somewhat freely, not to say injuriously treated by you, was also, _one_
motive with me. If I add still _another_, it is such as I need not
disown, and which you, of all men, will be the last to object to, I mean
a motive of _Charity_ towards yourself.

I am much a stranger to your person, and, what it may perhaps be scarce
decent for me to profess to you, even to your writings. All I know of
YOURSELF, is, what your book tells me, that you are distinguished by
an honourable place and office in the University of _Dublin_: and what
I have heared of your WRITINGS, makes me think favourably of a private
scholar, who, they say, employs himself in such works of learning and
taste, as are proper to instill a reverence into young minds for the best
models of ancient eloquence. While you are thus creditably stationed,
and thus usefully employed, I could not but feel some concern for the
hurt you were likely to do yourself by engaging in so warm and so
unnecessary an opposition to a _writer_, as you characterize him, _of
distinguished eminence_[162]. Time was, when even with us on this side
the water, the novelty of this writer’s positions, and the envy, which
ever attends superior merit, disposed some warm persons to open, and
prosecute with many hard words, the unpopular cry against him, of his
being a bold and PARADOXICAL writer. But reflexion and experience have
quieted this alarm. Men of sense and judgment now consider his Paradoxes
as very harmless, nay as very sober and certain truths; and even vye with
each other in their zeal of building upon them, as the surest basis,
on which a just and rational vindication of our common religion can be
raised. This is the present state of things with us, and especially, they
say, in the Universities of this kingdom.

It was, therefore, not without some surprize, and, as I said, with much
real concern, that I found a gentleman of learning and education revive,
at such a juncture, that stale and worn-out topic, and disgrace himself
by propagating this clamour, of I know not what _paradoxical boldness_,
now long out of date, in the much-approved writings of this great
Prelate. Nor was the dishonour to yourself, the only circumstance to be
lamented. You were striving, with all your might, to infuse prejudices
into the minds of many ingenious and virtuous young men; whom you would
surely be sorry to mislead; and who would owe you little thanks for
prepossessing them with unfavourable sentiments of such a man and writer,
as the Bishop of _Gloucester_, they will find, is generally esteemed to
be.

These, then, were the considerations, which induced me to employ an hour
or two of leisure in giving your book a free examination. I have done it
in as few words as possible, and in a _manner_ which no reasonable and
candid man, I persuade myself, will disapprove. I know what apologies
may be requisite to the learned Bishop for a stranger’s engaging in
this officious task. But to you, Sir, I make none: It is enough if any
benefits to yourself or others may be derived from it.

I am, with respect, &c.


FINIS.

Printed by J. Nichols and Son, Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.




FOOTNOTES:


[1] Prov. xvi. 7.

[2] Isaiah, xxvi. 9.

[3] Rev. ii. 4, 5.

[4] Eph. i. 7.

[5] John i. 1.

[6] Col. i. 17.

[7] Rev. i. 17. xxii. 13.

[8] Heb. i. 8.

[9] Micah v. 2.

[10] Rev. i. 8.

[11] John xvii. 5.

[12] Ps. iii. 2.

[13] Eph. iii. 9, 10, 11.

[14] Eph. iii. 18, 19.

[15] Acts x. 18.

[16] Eph. iii. 21.

[17] 1. Pet. i. 12.

[18] Eph. i. 10.

[19] Rev. xiv. 6.

[20] Gal. i. 6.

[21] Rom. x. 18.

[22] Col. xi. 10.

[23] Matth. xxviii. 19.

[24] 2 Cor. i. 12.

[25] 2 Cor. xii. 9.

[26] 1 Cor. vii. 21-24.

[27] John xv. 16.

[28] 1 Tim. iv. 16.

[29] Phil. i. 10, 11.

[30] Archbishop’s Injunctions, S. xi.

[31] Canon LXXV.

[32] Phil. i. 9-11.

[33] Rom. xii. 16.

[34] Erasmi in Evang. Joannis Paraphrasis, cap. i.

[35] 1 Cor. ii. 14.

[36] 1 Cor. ii. 14.

[37] 2 Tim. iv. 2.

[38] Lord Bacon, A. L. B. i. p. 417.

[39] _Fiduciam_ orator præ se ferat, semperque ità dicat tanquàm de causâ
optimè sentiat. Quint. l. v. c. 13, p. 422.

[40] Matth. vii. 29.

[41] Matth. xv. 6.

[42] “In omnibus quæ dicit tanta auctoritas inest, ut dissentire pudeat;
nec advocati studium, sed testis aut judicis afferat fidem.” Said of
Cicero by Quintilian. The Roman orator acquired this praise by consummate
art and genius. The plainest Christian homilist, who does his duty in
_speaking as the oracles of God_, attains it with ease, and deserves it
much better. Such is the pre-eminence of what the Apostle calls _the
foolishness of preaching_!

[43] Tanta in oratione auctoritas, ut _probationis_ locum obtineat.
Quintil. p. 422.

[44] Bishop Stillingfleet, Sermon IV.

[45] _Afficiamur_, antequam afficere conemur. Quint. p. 461. _moveamur_
ipsi. Ib.

[46] If I mention the names of the Bishops BEVERIDGE and BLACKALL, it
is not in exclusion of many others, but because I suspect they are less
known to the younger clergy than they deserve to be.

[47] Matth. xxviii. 20.

[48] “Parentes et Pædagogi pueros olim cum primum per ætatem sapere, et
intelligere cœpissent, primis Christianæ religionis rudimentis diligenter
instituebant, ut pietatem unà penè cum lacte nutricis imbiberent, et
à primis statim cunis, virtutis incunabilis ad vitam illam beatam
alerentur. Quem etiam ad usum breves libri, quos _Catechismos_ nostri
appellant, conscribebantur.”

                                           Noelli Catechismus de Baptismo.

[49] 2 Cor. xiii. 14.

[50] W. Weston, B. D. Fellow of St. John’s College, Cambridge; and vicar
of Campden, Gloucestershire. Camb. 1746.

[51] Pref. p. ii.

[52] Pref. p. ii.

[53] Ded. p. iv.—“The best compliment I can make your Lordship on the
occasion is the true one, _that I have a good opinion of the present
performance myself_,” &c.

[54] Pref. p. iii.

[55] Pref. p. iii.

[56] Pref. p. ii.

[57] The following passages brought to confirm this _fact_ are so well
known, that, if there was not something uncommonly strong, and subversive
of the writer’s objection in the very turn of expression, I should scarce
think myself at liberty to transcribe them.—Visa est mihi res digna
consultatione, maximè propter perielitantium _numerum_. Multi enim _omnis
ætatis, omnis ordinis_, utriusque sexûs etiam vocantur in periculum
et vocabuntur. Neque enim civitates tantum, sed vicos etiam atque
_agros_ superstitionis istius contagio pervagata——_propè jam desolata
templa,——sacra solemnia diu intermissa_.—Plin.

[58] Hesterni sumus, et _vestra omnia implevimus, urbes, insulas,
castella, municipia, conciliabula, castra ipsa, tribus, decurias,
palatium, senatum, forum_; sola vobis relinquimus templa. Tertull.
Apol. c. 37. And before speaking of the heathens, _Obessam vociferantur
civitatem, in agris, in castellis, in insulis_ Christianos, _omnem
sexum, ætatem, conditionem & dignitatem_ transgredi ad hoc nomen quasi
detrimento mærent. c. i. See also Arnobius, contr. Gentes, insisting on
the same fact.—Vel hæc saltem fidem vobis faciunt argumenta credendi,
quod jam per _omnes terras_ in _tam brevi tempore et parvo immensi
nominis hujus sacramenta diffusa sunt_? &c. L. ii. sub fin.

[59] Pref. p. iii.

[60] Chap. iii. p. 38.

[61] Speaking of I know not what _sour and dogmatical_ divines, “I am not
sure (says he) that I shall escape _their anathema_; since it is their
custom generally to be displeased with every thing that does not fall in
with their _fixed and settled sentiments_; and every defence of religion
that is _out of their way_ wants another to support it.” Pref. p. viii.
And again: “With some, I suppose, the _novelty_ of this matter will be
for ever a bar to its reception.” P. 370.

[62] The reader sees I complaisantly allow the writer’s representation
of the cases both of _Pilate and Gallio_; though much might, with good
reason, be objected to each of them. For, 1. If I should lay any stress
on the _acts of Pilate_, which, he owns, if admitted, would overturn
the whole use of his evidence, I should but follow in this the best
authorities, and those too supported by such reasonings as the Inquirer
would find it difficult to confute. And, 2. As to Gallio’s case, however
inattentive he might be to the fame of Paul’s miracles, the passage
alledged is certainly insufficient to prove it. Acts, chap. xviii. 17.
For, indeed, the Inquirer did not so much as apprehend the purpose of
the sacred writer in that whole narration; which manifestly was not
to signify to us Gallio’s inattention to the Apostle’s miracles, but
his candour, and prudent conduct in refusing to interfere in religious
matters, and in chusing rather to overlook an act of violence done in
his presence (which, though strictly speaking illegal, he might probably
think not altogether undeserved of the malicious intolerating Jew), than
gratify the complainant’s passion in punishing either Paul or his heathen
advocates. For this is the sense of those words, _He cared for none of
these things_; which the writer ought to have seen is so far from proving
Gallio’s disregard of miracles, that, had he been Paul’s convert, the
very same thing had been observed of him.

[63] Aristeas.—The writers referred to in the margin are _Strabo_,
_Maximus Tyrius_, _Pliny_, and _Herodotus_. Of these, the three first
mention Aristeas _occasionally_ only; and yet Strabo calls him ανηρ
γοης ει τις αλλος; and _Max. Tyrius_ and _Pliny_, though they explode
miracles, yet plainly enough declare the common creed to run in his
favour. Max. Tyrius in particular, after having given us his opinion of
his miracles, together with his reasons for pretending to them, adds,
_And Aristeas gained more credit by this pretension to wonders and
supernatural communications, than Xenagoras, Xenophanes, or any other
philosopher could have acquired by relating the plain truth_. Και ην
πιθανωτερος ταυτα λεγων ὁ Αριστεας η ὁ Ξεναγορας η Ξενοφανης, η τις αλλος
των εξηγησαμενων τα οντα ὡς εχει. Lastly, the account Herodotus gives us
is so much to the credit of his miracles, that one cannot imagine how
the writer should think it to his purpose to refer to him. For he _was_,
indeed, delivering the popular history of Aristeas; and therefore did,
as might be expected, represent him, not only as a worker of miracles,
but as much reverenced and _esteemed_ for them. This he attests upon his
own knowledge of several cities, all concurring in the firm belief of
his miracles; and one of them in particular transported by so religious
a veneration of him, as to erect a statue to his memory; which they also
caused to be set up in the most public part of their city, and even close
to one they had at the same time decreed to Apollo. And for the historian
himself, though in truth the story be even foolish enough, yet so far
is he from speaking of it with disregard, that I am not certain if he
did not believe it, at least that part which relates to the Metapontini;
which, after the mention of some other things from hearsay only, he
introduces in the following assured manner: “Thus far the report of these
cities: But what I am now going to relate, I _certainly know_ to have
happened to the Metapontini in Italy, &c.” Ταυτα μεν αἱ πολεις αὑται
λεγουσι, τα δε οιδα Μεταποντινοισι εν Ιταλιη συγκυρησαντα, &c. L iv. 15;
and then mentions the affair which gave occasion to the statue; which, he
tells us, he saw himself, placed, as I have said, and inscribed to the
memory of Aristeas.

[64] The other impostors mentioned as not much esteemed for their
miracles are _Pythagoras_, _Jamblichus_, and _Adrian_; though it
is certain the writers of their lives lay great stress upon them.
_Jamblichus_ and _Porphyry_, after enlarging on several of Pythagoras’s
miracles, which drew the applause and admiration of his followers, appeal
to current fame for the credit of these, and of other still _diviner
miracles_, which, say they, _are related of him with an uniform_ and
constant belief, μυρια δ’ ἑτερα θαυμαστοτερα και θειοτερα περι τ’ ανδρος
ὁμαλως και συμφονως ειρηται. (_Porph._ S. 28 and to the same purpose, and
nearly in the same words, _Jambl._ S. 135). Jamblichus even goes so far,
in speaking of the Pythagorean fondness for miracles, as to assure us,
that they were conceived to prove the _divinity_ of their authors, and
by that means to give a sanction to their _opinions and doctrines_. την
πιστιν των παρ’ αυτοις ὑποληψεων ἡγουνται ειναι ταυτην, &c. S. 140. _They
conceive it, says he, to add a_ CREDIT _and authority to their doctrines,
that the author of them was a_ GOD; _and therefore to the question, Who
was Pythagoras? their answer was, The hyperborean Apollo; and in proof
of this they alledge the miracle of his golden thigh. And yet_, says the
Inquirer, _Pythagoras was not much more esteemed for his thigh of gold
than one of flesh_. What pity is it, the wit of this antithesis should be
no better supported!

As for _Eunapius_, though he plainly disbelieved the silly tale of the
two boys of Gadara, yet, in relating it circumstantially as he does, he
clearly enough expresses his own opinion of miracles, and acknowledges
thereby the credit they would bring his master, were they better
attested, or but fairly received.

The miracles of the emperors are well known. And as their manifest intent
was, of the one of them, to add a credit, or, as Suetonius more strongly
expresses it, an _authority, and certain awfulness, befitting majesty_,
to the person of _Trajan_, and of the _other_, to inspire the hopes of
recovery into _Adrian_, so the relation of them by their historians, as
useful and subservient to those ends, is a thorough confutation of what
the author pretends about the little regard paid to them. And here it
may be proper to observe, once for all, that the frequent narrations of
prodigies and miracles, of which all Pagan story and antiquity is full,
is infinitely a stronger argument for the high credit of miracles amongst
the heathens in general, than any pretended _coolness, tranquillity,
and indifference_, which the writer’s warmth, in the prosecution of his
favourite novelty, leads him to imagine in the narrations themselves,
is, or can be, for the contrary opinion. Since _this_ could only shew
the incredulity of the relaters; whilst the _relating_ them at all
demonstrates the general good reception they met with from the people.

[65] This miracle was that of the fiery eruptions which hindered the
building of the temple at Jerusalem by _Julian_; and which, falling
into the hands of _Marcellinus_, might be expected to be spoken of as
a natural event. But this is all: for, as to that _wonderful coolness
and tranquillity_, which the writer pretends to have discovered in the
narration, it is so far from appearing to me, that, on the contrary, I
see not how the historian could have expressed himself with more emotion,
without directly owning the miracle. His words are these: Quum itaque rei
fortiter instaret Alypius, juvaretque provinciæ rector, _metuendi globi
flammarum prope fundamenta crebris assultibus erumpentes, fecere locum,
exustis aliquoties operantibus, inaccessum: hoc modo elemento destinatius
repellente cessavit Inceptum_.

[66] Pp. 40, 54, 57.

[67] Epicurus, Democritus, &c. p. 58.

[68] For the passage referred to (Orig. contr. Cels. l. 8) is in
answer to an harangue of Celsus, wherein he had expatiated largely on
the heathen miracles, and opposed them with great confidence to the
Christian. Upon which the excellent Father observes with much force,
“I know not how it is that Celsus thinks proper to alledge the heathen
miracles as incontestably evident, and undoubted facts; and yet affects
to treat the Jewish and Christian miracles recorded in our books as
mere fables. For why should not ours rather be thought true, and those
which Celsus preaches up fabulous? Especially, since those were never
_credited_ by their own philosophers, such as _Democritus_, _Epicurus_,
and _Aristotle_; who yet, had they lived with Moses or Jesus, on account
of the exceeding great clearness and evidence of the facts, δια την
εναργειαν, would in all probability have believed ours.” Having thus
fairly laid the passage before the reader, it is submitted to his
judgment with what colour of reason the learned writer could think of
deducing a proof of the _low opinion of miracles in general amongst the
philosophers_ from it.

[69] P. 62.

[70] P. 63. Philost. L., v. c. 15.

[71] P. 64.

[72] This was remarkably the case of Mahomet and Numa; the former of
whose _converse with the angel Gabriel, his journey to heaven, and
the armies of angels attending on his battles_—as well as the other’s
pretended _intercourse with the goddess Egeria_, is well known.

[73] It may seem odd that any of the Fathers of the Church should retain
such a strong tincture of this _evil principle_; yet this, &c. p. 66.

[74] Matthew, xxiv. 24. For there shall arise false Christs and false
Prophets, and shall shew _great signs and wonders_, insomuch that (if it
were possible) they shall deceive the very Elect.

[75] Our evidence is still increasing, and is in the next place confirmed
even by Divine authority. P. 70.

[76] But I could not lay too great a stress on the authority of the Jews,
because it _neither properly belongs to the present case_, nor, &c. P. 74.

[77] For this would shew that the _heathen_ rejection of miracles _might_
not be owing to any contempt of them as _such_, since the _Jewish_ was
plainly owing to a very different reason.

[78] 1 Cor. i. 22. The Jews require a _sign_, and the Greeks seek after
wisdom, &c.

[79] V. 17.

[80] V. 19.

[81] V. 20, 21, 22.

[82] It is remarkable that Maimonides pushes this prejudice so far
as to deny that the true Messiah was to work any miracles at all,
except that of restoring the temporal dominion of Israel. _If he_ (the
person pretending to be the Messiah) PROSPERS _in what he undertakes,
and subdues all the neighbouring nations round him, and rebuilds the
Sanctuary in its former place, and gathers together the dispersed of
Israel, then_ HE IS FOR CERTAIN THE MESSIAH. Maimon. in Yad Hachazekah
Tract. de Reg. et Bell. eorum. c. 11. s. 4.

[83] The right understanding of what is meant by the Jews _requiring a
sign_ is of such importance to the perfectly comprehending several parts
of the Gospel history, that I shall be allowed to justify and illustrate
the interpretation here given by some further considerations. And,

1. If by σημειον is to be understood simply a _miracle_, then it is not
true that Jesus, whom Paul preached, was or could be on that account a
_stumbling block_ to the Jews, it being allowed on all hands that many
and great miracles _did shew forth themselves through him_. See John vii.
31. xi. 47. But,

2. Notwithstanding this, and though it was owned in the fullest manner
by the chief priests and Pharisees themselves, yet we find them very
pressing for a _sign_, σημειον [Matth. xii. 38. xvi. 1. Luke xi. 29.] and
that too (which is very remarkable) at the instant our Saviour had been
working a miracle before them; a degree of perversity not rashly to be
credited of the Jews themselves.

It is true this _sign_ is sometimes called σημειον απο του ουρανου,
_a sign from Heaven_; which, if meaning any thing more than σημειον,
as explained above, i. e. a _test_ or credential of his heavenly or
divine mission (and what can be more natural than that the Jews should
express by this name the _only_ mark they would admit of the Messiah’s
coming from Heaven?) I say, if any thing further be intended in it, it
must be either, 1. An outward, sensible display of the Divine power,
_indicating_, by some prodigious and splendid appearance in the heavens,
or actually _interposing_, in some signal way, to _accomplish_ the
deliverance of Israel; and then either way it falls in with and includes
the interpretation here given. Or else, 2. It must mean a _mere_ prodigy,
asked out of wantonness, and for no other end than to gratify a silly
curiosity in beholding a wondrous sight from Heaven: an interpretation,
which, though maintained by some good writers, is utterly unsupported by
the sacred accounts, calling it σημειον indiscriminately, without as with
the addition of του ουρανου; and shocking to common sense, which makes it
incredible that so frivolous a reason as the being denied a _sign_, thus
understood, could be, as St. Paul asserts it was, _the stumbling-block_
of infidelity to the Jewish nation.

3. But what above all confirms and fixes this interpretation is the
tenor of our Saviour’s answer to the question itself. For, upon the
inquiry, _Master, shew us a sign_, &c. his constant reply was, _A wicked
and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign, and there shall no sign
be given them but that of the prophet Jonas: For_, &c. As though he
had said, “A perverse and degenerate people, disregarding the wisdom
of my doctrines, and the power of my miracles—the genuine marks and
characteristics of the Messiah—are yet crying out for the _test_,
σημειον, of my coming. I know the proud and ambitious sentiment of your
heart: but assure yourselves, God will not accommodate his proceedings to
your fond views and prejudices. No such _test_ shall be given you. One
sure and certain TEST indeed there shall be, over and above what has yet
been afforded; but to shew you how widely different the Divine conduct
is from your prescriptions, it is such a one as ye shall least expect;
the very reverse of your hopes and expectations. It shall be that of the
prophet _Jonas_. _For, as Jonas was three days and three nights in the
whale’s belly_, so shall Christ (sad contradiction to your conceit of
temporal dominion!) be put to death by the Jews, and _lie three days and
three nights in the heart of the earth_. And this event, so degrading of
my character with you, and so repugnant to your wishes, shall, I readily
foresee, so scandalize you, that, though my return from the grave, like
that of _Jonas_ from the whale, shall be in the demonstration of power,
yet shall ye, through the inveteracy of that prejudice, be so hardened,
as not to be convinced by it.”

The answer of our Saviour is related by _Matthew_ and _Luke_ with some
addition, but such as is further favourable to this interpretation. For,
upon their asking a sign, it is plain he understood them to mean not a
_miracle_, but a TEST, by the question immediately put to them: _When it
is evening, ye say it will be fair weather; for the sky is red. And in
the morning, it will be foul to-day; for the sky is red and lowering. O!
ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of the sky, but can ye not discern
the face of the times?_ “Are the appearances which, in the order and
constitution of nature, precede the changes of weather, a sign or test to
you of those changes? And are ye stupid and perverse enough to neglect
those which, by the Divine appointment, are made the _sign_ or _test_ of
the TIMES, of the change of the Mosaic for the Christian dispensation?
How is it that ye do not collect this from my _miracles_ and _doctrine_,
the ordinary and stated marks of this change, but ye must perversely
demand a _test_ of it, which the Scriptures nowhere promise, and the
order and course of God’s Providence disclaim?”

If, after all this, there can yet remain any doubt of the truth of this
comment, it will be effectually removed by an authority or two from the
other Evangelist, which the reader will indulge me in just mentioning. In
our Saviour’s exerting an act of civil power, in scourging and driving
the money-changers out of the temple, the Jews require him to shew the
credentials of his authority, _What sign shewest thou that thou doest
these things?_ The asking a miracle in this case were impertinent; for
that, how extraordinary soever, could never prove to the Jews that he
came invested with the powers of the civil magistrate. The sign they
expected, then was evidently of another kind: an express declaration,
or open display, of the regal character and office, evidencing his
commission _to do such things_. Accordingly, the reply of our Saviour was
to the same effect as before. _Jesus said unto them, destroy this temple,
and in three days I will raise it up_; for he spake, we know, _of the
temple of his body_. c. ii.

The next authority is in the sixth chapter, where we have an account
of the miracle of feeding _the five thousand_. Upon the multitude’s
following him after this, our Saviour objects to them their neglect of
miracles, which he presses upon them as motives to their belief. _Ye seek
me not, because ye saw the miracles_, &c. Now what do the Jews return to
this charge? Why, they fairly own it to be just, and, what is more, give
a reason for their conduct. Their answer is to this effect: “Wherefore do
you urge your miracles thus constantly to us, as motives for our belief?
If you would have us trust and confide in you as the Messiah, _Where
is the sign?_ For, as to your miracles so often insisted on by you, we
cannot admit them as proper evidences of your commission. And indeed
how should we? for Moses wrought as great, if not greater wonders than
you. To confront your late boasted miracle of feeding _the five thousand
with five loaves_, did not he, as it is written, _give our fathers bread
from heaven_? What miracle of yours can be more extraordinary? Yet
_Moses_ could do this. The Messiah, therefore, of whom greater things are
promised, we expect to be _characterized_ by other _signs_. What work
takest thou in hand, τι εργαζη?” Here, at last, we see (and the reader
will forgive the length of the note for the sake of so clear conviction)
that the _sign_ asked for, of what kind soever it might be, neither _was_
nor _could_ be a miracle, since all such _signs_ were rejected by these
inquirers upon _principle_.

[84] I have now done with this head [the low opinion of miracles in the
heathen world] and am not aware that any reasonable exceptions can be
made to the testimonies which have been brought to confirm it; but if any
one should think otherwise, and maintain that something else is necessary
for the establishment of so _singular_ an opinion, he will be _gratify’d_
in his expectations, as we _go along_; and will find the principles
and practices of much the greater part of the heathens on this point
_strengthening and confirming_ each other. P. 77.

[85] For this he must say, and not that the credit of miracles would
hereby be something weakened: a point, that, as we shall see hereafter,
may be allowed, and yet be of no manner of service to his conclusion.

[86] I have said _bad Dæmons_; for miracles wrought by the assistance of
_good Dæmons_ were, as the Inquirer observes, p. 247, in great repute.

[87] For that this was the obvious and essential difference betwixt the
genuine miracles of the gospel, and the tricks of magic, is apparent
from many strong expostulations of the Christian apologists, who, when
encountered with this frivolous, but _malicious_ objection, used to
exclaim: _Potestis aliquem nobis designare, monstrare ex omnibus illis
magis, Qui unquam fuere per sæcula, consimile aliquid Christo millesimâ
ex parte qui fecerit? Qui_ SINE ULLA VI CARMINUM SINE HERBARUM AUT
GRAMINUM SUCCIS, SINE ULLA ALIQUA OBSERVATIONE SOLLICITA SACRORUM,
LIBAMINUM, TEMPORUM? &c. Arnob. contr. Gen. L. i. And again, ibid. Atqui
constitit Christum SINE ULLIS ADMINICULIS RERUM, SINE ULLIUS RITUS
ORSERVATIONE TEL LEGE, _omnia illa, quæ fecit, nominis sui possibilitate
fecisse; et quod proprium, consentaneum, Deo dignum fuerat vero, nihil
nocens, aut noxium, sed_ OPIFERUM, SED SALUTARE, SED AUXILIARIBUS PLENUM
BONIS _potestatis munificæ liberalitate donâsse_.

[88] Acts, C. viii. and xix.

[89] For as to the remaining chapters on the _idolatry of the Heathens,
the parallel betwixt the Heathen and Protestant rejection of miracles,
and his Conclusion_, they seem very little to concern either him, or me.
For, 1. The influence of idolatry is urged to prove, that the _religion_,
not _miracles_, of Jesus, _was hard to be admitted_ (p. 352); which,
though true, has nothing _new_ in it, and is, besides, intirely foreign,
if not contradictory, to his purpose. 2. _The parallel betwixt the
Heathen and Protestant rejection of miracles_ derives all its little
illustrative force from this poor presumption, already confuted, that the
Heathens had universally _a contempt of miracles_. I said the parallel
drew its whole force from this fact, for unless it be true that the
Heathens universally disbelieved all miracles said to be wrought amongst
them, the case of their rejection of Christian miracles, the reader sees,
is widely different from that of the Protestant rejection of the Popish.
This one circumstance then, to mention no others, overturns the whole use
of his parallel. But, 3. As to his conclusion, the design and business
of that is, I allow, something extraordinary. It is to shew us, that
his whole force was not spent in this wearisome Inquiry, but that, was
he disposed for it, he _could_ go on to answer other objections against
miracles (p. 408-9) and our common Christianity, which had been already
confuted to his hands. For, having shewn us what he _could not_ do with
an argument of his _own_, he was willing, it seems, to shew us what he
_could_ do with those of _other writers_. For which meritorious service
he has my compliments and congratulations:

    Labore alieno magno, partam Gloriam
    Verbis sæpè in se transfert, qua sal habet,
    Quod in TE est.

[90] Page 348, and in another place he says, it has been fairly shewn
from _their own accounts_, and from THE NATURE OF THEIR PRINCIPLES, that
the Heathens neither _had_, nor _could_ have an high opinion of miracles.
P. 383.

[91] Matth. xi. 20. Luke x. 13.

[92] Page 172.

[93] 1 Cor. i. Col. ii. 8.

[94] Rom. i. Eph. v. and elsewhere _passim_.

[95] Mr. Addison of the Christian Religion, S. 1.

[96] Lord Chancellor Hardwicke.

[97] Page 70.

[98] Page 12.

[99] Or, by _judicio suo_ may be understood that the Chancellor is
impowered to inflict which of the several censures mentioned in the
Statute he shall think fit, on offenders. The words are _ignavos, &c.
suspensione graduum, carcere, aut alio leviore supplicio_, JUDICIO SUO
_castigandos_. And the same is the meaning of PRO ARBITRIO SUO in the
Statute _de Officio Procuratorum_; on which the _Inquirer_ affects to
lay some stress (p. 32). “_Eum, qui deliquerit, primò pecuniâ præfinitâ
mulctabit; iterum delinquenti duplicabit mulctam; tertiò verò si
deliquerit, gravius, pro_ ARBITRIO SUO, coercebit.” But take it in which
sense you will, either of _passing sentence by his single authority_
or _determining the kind of punishment at his discretion_, neither
way can this expression be made to serve the cause in hand. No art of
construction can pick, out of the words _judicio suo_, the sense of
_final determination_.

[100] Lord Chancellor Hardwicke.

[101] The ignorance of the _Inquirer_, who asserts _that the University
has nothing to do with ecclesiastical censures_, and that _suspension_
from degrees, in particular, _is a punishment merely academical_ (p. 26),
is amazing. Had he been in the least qualified to treat the matter he has
undertaken, he would have known that _suspension_ is not merely an usage
of the University Court, as such, but was practised by the Ecclesiastical
Court of the Bishops or Archbishops, as long as they had jurisdiction in
the University. To let in one ray or two of light, in mere compassion, on
that utter darkness which environs him, and shuts out all law, _canon_
as well as _civil_, I will just refer him to _Arundel’s Constitutions_
in a provincial Council; where Members of the University offending in
the premisses are declared _suspended_, _ab omni actu scholastico_, and
_deprived_, _ab omni privilegio scholastico_. [_Lyndwood_, de _Hæret._
cap. _Finaliter_.] And the same appears in a Constitution of Archbishop
_Stratford_. [Ib. _De Vit. & Honest. Clericorum_, cap. _Exterior_.]

[102] So Mr. Attorney General _Yorke_, in his _Argument for the
University in Dr._ Bentley’s _Case_,—“The congregation are to be
considered as the judges of the Court, and the _Vice-chancellor_ as their
_official_.” The _Inquirer_ hath himself desired the reader to observe
(p. 10) that the _V. C._ in the absence of the _Chancellor_, hath all the
power which the University delegates to this great officer.

[103] That his Court was directed by this law, appears from a
determination of Delegates, concerning _second Appeals in the same
cause_, which I will take the liberty to transcribe.

De Appellationibus à Delegatis.

In Dei nomine, Amen. Nos D. Buckmaister, Inceptor Dakyns, M’ri Myddylton,
Longforth, et Pomell, authoritate nobis ab Universitate commissâ,
decernimus ac pro firmâ sententiâ determinamus, quòd liceat unicuique in
suâ causâ appellare à judicibus delegatis per Universitatem ad eandem
Universitatem, modò id fiat juxta juris exigentiam, hoc est, si antea ab
eodem secundâ vice in eâdem causâ appellatum non fuerit. Quod si anteà
bis appellaverit, neutiqùam tertiò appellare licebit, quum id prorsus
sit vetitum _tam per jus civile quàm canonicum_: Cæterum unicuique tam
actori quàm reo maneat sua libertas appellandi in suâ causâ à judicibus
delegatis per Universitatem modo supradicto et à jure præscripto. [_Lib.
Proc. Jun. fol._ 132.]

[104] See old Statutes _De Judiciis et Foro scholarium_; _De pœnis
Appellantium_; _De tempore prosequendi Appellationes_.

[105] See _Determination of Delegates_, before cited, p. 25.

[106] P. 26.

[107] P. 1.

[108] P. 62.

[109] _Delegates_ are nominated by the _Caput_; and the Caput is, in
effect, appointed by the Vice-chancellor and Heads of Colleges, who are
commonly parties in all appellations. [See Stat. _De capite Eligendo_.]
So (as the University complained, in their remonstrance against this
very Statute of Q. _Elizabeth_) “when they [the V. C. and Masters of
Houses] offer wrong, and themselves appoint judges to redress that
wrong; it is too true, which _Livy_ writeth in the state of _Decemvira,
siquis Collegam appellaverit_, (meaning Appius’s judgment), _ab eo, ad
quem venerit, ità discessurum, tanquam pæniteret prioris decreto non
stetisse_.” [C. C. C. MSS.] So little reason is there on the part of the
Vice-chancellor, to fear any thing from _partial Delegates_!

[110] The _Inquirer_ hath even had the hardiness to advance this in
the plainest terms. He harangues at large from p. 9. to 13. on the
impropriety of appealing from the _determination of a superior to an
inferior_; and, in another place, p. 39. derides the notion of _citing
the supreme Magistrate before more supreme Delegates_. But how different
were the sentiments of a late learned Civilian on this head, from
those of this _little academical Lawyer_! Speaking of Mr. _Campbell’s_
case, in 1725. “There is, says he, a subordination of jurisdiction in
the University. The Vice-chancellor’s jurisdiction is _inferior_ to
that of the Senate; and upon Mr. _C—’s_ saying, that he appealed to
the University, the _inferior jurisdiction_ ceased and devolved to the
Senate, even before the inhibition. And, afterwards in considering the
proctor’s inhibition; _upon the Appeal_, the Proctors represent the
University, and are in that case superior to the Vice-chancellor.—And
I am of opinion, that the Delegates in Mr. _C—’s_ cause may, upon
the Proctor’s applying to them, _primo et ante omnia_ reverse the
whole proceedings against him, in the V. C’s court, _as an attentat
upon the University’s jurisdiction_; and may likewise inflict such
censures, as the Statutes impower them to make use of, for the breach
of the inhibition; all inhibitions being by Law, _sub pænâ juris et
contemptûs_.” Dr. ANDREWS.

[111] P. 70.

[112] We have this confession from the candid writer of _Considerations
on the late Regulations, &c._ “I must enter, says he, upon this subject
with acknowledging, as I do with equal truth and pleasure, that there
never was, within my remembrance, nor, I believe, within any one’s
memory, a set of more able and industrious tutors than we have at
present; more capable of discharging that useful office, or more diligent
and careful in the discharge of it,” p. 12. And, again, “I think there
prevails in general and through all degrees among us, a great disposition
to sobriety and temperance,” p. 14.

[113] P. 64.

[114] P. 13.

[115] P. 65.

[116] “You will urge—that, as a previous _oath_ must be taken by the
tutor, that he believes _in his conscience_ that his pupil has a just
cause of appeal, all Appeals would by this means be prevented, but such
as were founded upon good reasons. But the force of this argument will
not be thought very great, if, _&c._”

Reader, I can easily guess the sentiments which must arise in thee, at
the sight of this shocking paragraph. But think not I have abused thee
in this citation. They are the author’s own words, as they lie in p. 65
of the _Inquiry_. Well, but his reason? Why, “if it be remembered, that,
though oaths of this kind were exacted in order to prevent the frequency
of Appeals, they by no means had their proper effect, the same number
having been commenced for the three years next after this regulation, as
in that towards the close of which it was first made.” This provision of
_oaths had not_, he says, _its proper effect_. And how does this appear?
Why, _because Appeals were as frequent afterwards as before_. Now, any
other man would, surely, have inferred from hence, that “therefore the
Appeals made were not without good reason.” Not so the _Inquirer_. He
is of another spirit. Rather than give any quarter to _Appeals_, let
every tutor in the University be an abandoned perjured villain. In very
tenderness to this unhappy writer, whoever he be, I forbear to press him
farther on such a subject.

[117] P. 66.

[118] Diss. VI. p. 259.

[119] Diss. VI. p. 251.

[120] Hodges, Garnet, Chappelow.

[121] P. 296.

[122] P. 255.

[123] P. 296.

[124] Dr. Lowth.

[125] Page 261.

[126] Page 253.

[127] Page 269.

[128] Page 293.

[129] Julian, p. 316.

[130] _Essay on the Gift of Tongues_, Works, vol. ii. p. 91.

[131] DOCTRINE OF GRACE, b. i. c. viii. p. 41. 2ᵈ Ed. 8ᵛᵒ.

[132] Ib.

[133] D. G. p. 51.

[134] P. 41, 42.

[135] From p. 42 to p. 45.

[136] Dissertation, p. 82.

[137] Dissert. p. 82.

[138] Dissert. p. 86.

[139] _Doctrine of Grace_, p. 41.

[140] _Doctrine of Grace_, p. 45.

[141] _Doctrine of Grace_, p. 43.

[142] Dissert. p. 88.

[143] _Doctrine of Grace_, p. 52, 53.

[144] _Doctrine of Grace_, p. 55, 56.

[145] Dissert. p. 19.

[146] Dissert. p. 4.

[147] _Doctrine of Grace_, p. 52.

[148] Dissert. p. 41.

[149] Dissert. p. 45.

[150] _Doctrine of Grace_, p. 53.

[151] Dissert. p. 58.

[152] Dissert. p. 80, n.

[153] _Doctrine of Grace_, pp. 56, 57.

[154] Dissert. p. 20.

[155] Dissert. p. 80. n.

[156] _Doctrine of Grace_, p. 58.

[157] Dissert. p. 24.

[158] Dissert. p. 25.

[159] QUINCT. l. ix. c. 3.

[160] Dissert. p. 34.

[161] _Doctrine of Grace_, p. 52.

[162] Adv. to the Dissert.




INDEX

TO

VOLUMES V. VI. VII. AND VIII.


  A.

  ADULTERY, absolution of the woman taken in, vi. 319, 327.
    gives no encouragement to think slightly of the sin, 330.

  ÆNEID, the sixth book of, finely criticized in the D. L. viii. 277.
    the same subject discussed by Dr. Jortin, 283, 285, 287.

  ALEMBERT, M. D’, his opinion on Antichrist, v. 202.

  ALPHONSUS the Wise, blasphemed the system of nature, vi. 31. n.

  AMUSEMENTS, LAWFUL, may not be expedient, vii. 300.

  ANTICATO, a name once assumed by Cæsar, v. 181.

  ANTICHRIST, prophecies concerning, v. 172.
    characters which distinguish that power, _ib._
    meaning of the term, 179, 180.
    how construed and applied by the early Christian writers, 181.
    how by the Church of Rome, 187.
    application of the term to that Church at various periods, 190 to 201.
    deduction from those facts, 202.
    prejudices against the doctrine, 205, 214.
    how to be removed, 207.
    term not applied against the person of the Pope, 216.
    prophecies respecting the downfal of, 218.
    disagreeing opinions of learned men concerning, 220.
    time and other circumstances relating to, not to be ascertained, 224.
    main prejudice against it, whence arising, 232.
    prophetic characters of, 286.
    testimony of St. Paul, 299.
    another symbol from St. John, 302.
    tyrannical, intolerant, and idolatrous, 304.
    time of appearance in the world, 326.
    declared expressly by the prophets, 328.
    the several marks of, enumerated, 331.
    uses of this inquiry, 334.

  ANTICHRISTIAN SUPERSTITION, prevailed not against the Church of Christ,
      vii. 364.

  ANTINOMIANS, of the last century, their profligacy, vi. 16.

  APOLOGIES for Christianity, wherein generally faulty, vi. 26.

  APPEALS. See CAMBRIDGE.

  APHORISMS, why a favourite mode of instruction with the inspired writers,
      vi. 175.

  APOSTOLIC AGE, Christianity how propagated in, vii. 116, 117.

  APOSTLES, conveyed instruction by general precepts, vi. 175.
    preached not themselves but Christ Jesus the Lord, vii. 176.
    used no arts to set off their moral character, 178.
    or their intellectual, 186.
    preached therefore by the direction of the Holy Spirit, 191.
    the Spirit promised them by our Saviour, 222.
    to guide them into all truth, 224.
    to shew them things to come, 225.
    their character, 229.
    and situation considered, 231.
    the promise not abused by them, 232.
    admonition of the angels to them on our Lord’s ascension, 240.
    under what circumstances the Greek language was inspired into them,
      viii. 325.
    had time to improve themselves in it, ere they turned to the Gentiles,
      326.
    their style such as might be expected, 327.
    needed no aid from eloquence, 357, 363.
    By what considerations generally restrained from the use of it, 364.

  APOSTROPHE, of Solomon to youth, vi. 405.

  APOCALYPSE. See REVELATIONS.

  ARISTEAS, an impostor, esteemed as a worker of miracles, viii. 157. n.

  ARISTOTLE, at one time gave law to the Christian world, vii. 266.

  ARNULPHUS, bishop of Orleans, styled the Pope Antichrist, v. 191.

  ARTICLES, the Thirty-nine, are the formulary of faith with us, viii. 63.

  ARTS, FINE, administer to luxury, vii. 299, 302.

  ASIATIC CHRISTIANS, their condition different from that of the Jews, v.
      149.

  ASCENSION of Jesus into Heaven, vii. 237.
    his coming to be in like manner, 238.

  ASSENTATIO, a species of flattery, viii. 289.

  ATHEISM, adopted as a release from the restraints of morality, vi. 19.

  AVENTINUS, JOANNES, points out the beginning of the reign of Antichrist,
      v. 193.

  AUGURY, of the duration of the Roman Empire, v. 84.

  AUTHORITY, an air of, its effect in orators, viii. 124. n.

  ——, of our Saviour’s teaching, in what consisting, vii. 130.


  B.

  BABYLON, a Pagan idolatrous city, of what an emblem, v. 196, 309.

  BACON, Lord, his observation on the double sense of prophecy, v. 55.

  BAPTISM, its reference to the typical washings of the law, vi. 155.

  BAPTIST, THE, his food and raiment emblematical, vii. 402.

  BARROW, Dr. an eminent expositor of the Catechism, viii. 138.

  BEAST, in the Revelations, its seven heads a double type, v. 296.

  BENEVOLENCE, how perverted, vi. 120.
    in the Gospel takes the name of Charity, 135.

  BERENGARIUS, styles Rome the seat of Satan, v. 192.

  BERNARD, St. denounces the church of Rome as Antichristian, v. 194.

  BIBLE, only, the religion of Protestants, v. 349.

  BLOOD of Christ, its efficacy and value how signified by him, vi. 151,
      154.
    danger of refusing to be washed by it, 157.
    its benefits how to be secured, 158.

  BONIFACE III. begged the title of Œcumenical Bishop, v. 190.

  BOSSUET, M. his remark on the conduct of the primitive Christians, v.
      168. n.
    on Mr. Mede’s work on the Revelations, 272.
    on the terms _fornication_ and _adultery_, as applied to Rome, 307. n.
    justifies persecution, 315. n.
    his unreasonable jocularity on the Reformation, 318. n.

  BRITISH PEOPLE, zeal for religion abated among them, viii. 9.
    private morals relaxed, 11.
    civil or political virtues disappearing, 13.

  BRUTUS, erred from excess of virtue, vi. 309.


  C.

  CÆSAR, his baldness a mark of infamy, vi. 403.
    his admirable way of recording his own achievements, vii. 179.

  CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY, dispute concerning appeals at, viii. 189.
    historical account of its jurisdiction, 208.
    addition of civil power to the spiritual, 211.
    power of making local statutes, 213.
    body of new statutes given, 214.
    appeals not forbidden, 216.
    the right of appealing not affected by disuse, 219.
    grace proposed by the assertors of the right of appeal, 226.
    delegates by whom nominated, 228. n.
    subordination in the jurisdiction, 230. n.
    objections against the grace answered, 235.
    right of under-graduates exercised by the interposition of their
      tutors, 238.
    insinuations against the advocates for the right of appeal exposed,
      241, 242, 245.
    the claim as ancient as the English Constitution, 250.

  CASUISTS, have perverted the precepts of the Gospel, vi. 237.

  CATECHIZING, the duty of, viii. 133.
    its uses to the catechumens, 134.
    to the congregation present, 136.
    to the clergy themselves, 137.

  CATILINE, described by Cicero, vi. 314.

  CATO, his virtue contrasted with that of Cæsar, vi. 308.

  CELSUS, how he represents the Jews, v. 6. n.
    his objections against their oracles, 14. n.

  CHANCE, by some considered, as supplying the place of inspiration, v. 81.
    could not have accomplished the spiritual prophecies, 90.

  CHARACTER, moral, artifices which men use to display it, vii. 178, 181,
      184.
    intellectual, two ways of displaying, 186.

  CHARITY, Christian, its genealogy, vi. 116, 121, 123.
    genuine how to be distinguished from false, 126.
    the proper cure for learned pride, 278, 287.

  CHARLES I. the religious troubles in his reign whence originating, viii.
      41.
    struggles for civil liberty, 44.

  CHILLINGWORTH, and others, established the old principle of the
      Protestant religion, v. 349.

  CHRIST, the spirit of prophecy, his testimony, v. 21.
    his appeal to that spirit, 30.
    all the prophets bear witness to him, 35.
    great purpose of his coming, 37.
    fortunes of his dispensation not yet perfectly disclosed, 69.
    his prophecy concerning the treachery of Judas, 74.
      its use, 100.
    prophecies concerning his first coming, 102.
      how enforced among the Jews, 107, 110.
      concerning his second coming, 132.
    his prophecy of the destruction of Jerusalem, 136.
      fulfilled, 141.
    his sublime command to his followers, to teach all nations, 163.
    foretold the appearance of false Christs, 177.
    his mediatorial office not to be interfered with by the worship of
      saints, 324.
    time of his appearing how foretold, 326.
    vast scheme of prophecy relating to his first and second coming, 336.
    benefits of his death extend to all men, vi. 63.
    faith in him the condition of salvation, 71.
    declared to the believing Jews, how they were to be judged, 79.
      to his disciples, that they had seen the Father, 84.
    why he spake in parables, 94.
    his promise to manifest himself, to whom given, 100.
    why he condescended to wash the feet of his disciples, 145.
      his answer to Peter on that occasion, 149.
    his death a propitiation for sin, 154.
    his admonition respecting the hearing of the word, 209.
    his sentence on those who receive it not, 212.
    his reply to the Pharisees concerning blindness and sin, 260.
    denounces a woe against those of whom all men speak well, 305.
    his question of the Jews who stoned him, 311.
    his admonition to the woman taken in adultery, 319.
      his address to those who accused her, 325.
      why he did not condemn her, 328.
    HE first acknowledged humility as a virtue, 334.
    particulars of his humility, 339.
    why derided by the Pharisees, who were covetous, 351, 352.
    the author of eternal life, vii. 18, 24.
    duties which we owe him, 29.
    made manifest in the flesh, 64.
    justified in the spirit, 66.
    seen of angels, 68.
    preached to the Gentiles, 70.
    believed on in the world, 72.
    received up into glory, 74.
    never man spake like him, 124.
    as to the matter of his discourses, 125.
      the authority with which they were delivered, 130.
      their wisdom, 133.
      their divine energy, 137.
    why he spake to the unbelieving Jews in parables, 145, 151.
      why he wrought few miracles among them, 159.
    why he preached the Gospel to the poor, 194.
    the goodness of his character thus displayed, 203.
      his wisdom equally, 206.
    his Father’s house, of many mansions, 210.
    his sincerity conspicuous in this declaration, 213, 214.
    what was truly his character, 218.
    what our expectations from him, 220.
    promised the spirit of truth to his disciples, 222.
      fulfilment of the promise, 234.
    his ascension graced by the ministry of angels, 237.
    prejudices of his countrymen against him, 253.
    his triumphs over the kingdom of Satan, 271.
    forbade strict retaliation, 310.
    his declaration to those who shall be ashamed of him, 328.
      and of his words, 341.
    his memorable promise to Peter a two-fold prophecy, 357, 367.
    his driving the buyers and sellers out of the temple, 386.
      in what light understood, 390.
      acted thus not as a zealot but a prophet only, 400.
    prophecy to which he appealed, 405, 408.
      in what light regarded by the Jews, 416.
      why he used this mysterious method of information, 423.
    the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever, viii. 19.
    dignity of his person here expressed, 21.
    immense scheme of redemption through him, 22.
    unchangeable nature of his religion, 25.

  CHRISTIAN, bound by principle to be modest and humble, vi. 180.
    character of a wise one, 227.
    his body the temple of God, 382.
    he is bought with a price, 386.
    encouraged to reason on the subject of religion, vii. 115.
    not bound to inquire curiously into the doctrinal and moral part of
      the gospel, 119.

  CHRISTIANITY, attested by prophecy, v. 69.
    in a secondary as well as a primary sense, 98.
    weight of the general evidence, 100.
    argument from prophecy of no less weight to us because the Jews were
      not convinced by it, 128.
    proof of its divine institution, 338.
    why propagated by mean instruments, vi. 90.
    its evidences many and various, 99.
    philosophy how far serviceable to it, 196, 199.
    objections on its mysterious nature answered, 272.
    questions to those who sincerely reject it, 298.
    danger and crime of disbelief, 300.
    its evidences a subject of inquiry in different ages, vii. 111, 118.
    the faith early adulterated by vain speculations, 245, 246.
    purified in part after the Reformation, 247, 248.
    use of reason in its support, 250.
    force of prejudice against, 254, 258, 262.
    in modern times, against its evidences and doctrines, 264.
    what the only exorcism it permits, 274.
    doctrine of not resisting evil, 310.
    does not supersede the use of resentment, 314.
    except in case of persecution, 316.
    liberties taken with it to render it not mysterious, 347.
    zeal for it abated among us, viii. 9.
    its unchangeable nature, as a rule of life, 25.

  CHRISTIANS, Primitive, idea formed of Antichrist by them, v. 184.
    their advantages of acquiring religious knowledge, vi. 191.
    precept addressed to them of giving a reason for their hope, 111, 116.

  CICERO, palliated the desertion of his principles, vii. 181.
    abounded in fulsome encomiums, viii. 261.

  CLEMENS ALEXANDRINUS, his opinion on the persecution of Christianity,
      vii. 360.

  CHURCH, its union with Christ, how prefigured, v. 23.
    on what rock founded, vii. 355.
    Jewish and Gentile persecutions raised against it, 358.
    internal commotions when settled under Constantine, 361.
    endangered by the Mahometan imposture, 362.
      by the Antichristian superstition, 363.
    its trial by the enlightened reason of mankind, 365.
      by the learned Jews, 368.
      by the Gentiles, 369.
    after the revival of letters, 374.
    by modern infidel writers, 377.
    the gates of Hell prevail not against it, 381.

  CLARKE, Dr. SAMUEL, his remark on the book of Revelations, v. 267.

  CLERGY, why chosen and ordained, viii. 59.
    first object of their ministry to teach a right faith, 59.
    the second, to produce the fruits of piety, 65.
      and of charity, 68.
    benefits of personal residence, 76.
    directions respecting curates, 80.
    none but fit ones to be recommended, 84.
    what the office of reason on the subject of revealed religion, 90, 94.
    requisites of a Christian preacher, fidelity, 120.
    an air of authority, 123.
    zeal, 125.
    duty of catechizing, 133.
    benefit of sermons to accompany the examinations, 138.

  COBHAM, Lord, why committed to the flames, v. 200.

  CONCEIT, admonition against, vi. 178, 181.
    proper remedy for, 185.

  CONJECTURES, in the way of prophecy, frequently verified, v. 82.

  CONSCIENCE, defined, vi. 44, 121.

  CONSTANTINOPLE, not the residence of Antichrist, v. 291.

  CONTROVERSY, in public discourses, to be avoided, viii. 124.

  CORINTHIANS, how addressed by the Apostle on their impurity, vi. 380.
    their city a market of prostitution, 387.

  COVENANT, New, the christian dispensation so called, v. 163.

  COURAGE, the affectation of, a snare to those who seek the honour of
      men, vi. 252.

  CREEDS, origin and justification of, viii. 61.

  CREVIER, M., defends persecution, v. 315. n.

  CRITICISM, as of late improved, of what use in explaining the Scriptures,
      vi. 199.
    rational, what its established principles, viii. 349.

  CURATES, directions respecting, viii. 80.

  CURIOSITY, anxious, its folly, vi. 408.
    tends to create quick resentments, 412.
    leads to peevish complaints, 413.
    breeds uneasy suspicions, 415.
    its injustice, 416.

  CYAXARES, of Xenophon, supposed to be Darius the Mede, v. 381, 396.


  D.

  DAILLÉ, M., on the use of the Fathers, v. 348.

  DANIEL, his vision of the four kingdoms, and of Antichrist, v. 287, 297.
    foretold the rise of that power, 328.
    antiquity of the book questioned, 365.
    objections answered, 387.
    cause of his advancement, 390.

  DARIUS the Mede, doubts respecting his existence, v. 380.

  DEDICATION, two good instances of, pointed out, viii. 282.

  DEMOSTHENES, his sublime and energetic oath, viii. 345.

  DEVIL, if resisted, will flee, vii. 267.
    terms applied to that wicked spirit in Scripture, 269.
    Christ’s triumphs over, 271.
    powers permitted him over the bodies and fortunes of men, 272.
      over the souls of men, 274.
    objections answered, 277.
    religious and moral uses of the doctrine, 280.
      whole scheme of Christianity depends on it, 348.

  DISTRESS, National, never inflicted before it is deserved, viii. 7.

  DIVINATION, idea of pagan philosophers concerning, v. 9.
    from augury, instances of, v. 83.

  D. L. the author of, his character by a warm friend, viii. 270.
    his personal virtues,—reference to Dr. Jortin, 272.
    some of his foibles enumerated, 273.
    his talents for classical criticism, 277.

  DRAGON, a symbol of the Roman Government, v. 303.

  DREAMS, a mode of prophecy, v. 17, 248.

  DRUSILLA, her character, vii. 2.


  E.

  EAGLES, a figurative expression for the standards of the Roman army,
      v. 138.

  ECLIPSE, why an emblem of the ruin of empires, v. 246.

  ELEGANCE, of speech, what, viii. 334, 342.

  ELOQUENCE, among the ancients, studied from vanity, vi. 284.
    Dr. Middleton’s notion of, confuted, viii. 333.
    no archetype of it in nature, 339.
    its rules for the most part, local and arbitrary, 352.
    what its end, 354, 356.

  EGYPTIANS, retained their hieroglyphics after the invention of the
      alphabet, v. 239.

  ENERGY, of our Saviour’s discourses, vii. 137.

  ENVY, excited by eminent virtue, vi. 306.
    a striking picture of, vii. 253.

  ERASMUS, his observation on the use of reason in religion, viii. 101.

  ERROR, in matters of religion, notion of its innocency considered, vi.
      297.

  EVIDENCE, moral, gradation in the scale of, vi. 88.

  EZEKIEL, foretold the cessation of prophecy among the Jews, v. 116. n.


  F.

  FAITH, the condition of salvation, vi. 71.
    the parent of charity, 123, 125.
    why said to come by hearing, 201.
    some inclined too much to it, at the expence of morality, 218.
    not at variance with knowledge, 262.
    See CHRISTIANITY.

  FALKLAND, Lord, his glorious excess of virtue, vi. 309.

  FAME, the love of, to be controuled by the love of truth, vi. 259.

  FASHION, the rule of life with men of the world, vii. 286.

  FATHERS of the Church, their application of the term Antichrist, v. 182.
    question respecting their authority in the interpretation of scripture,
      347, 348.
    plainness of their discourses, vii. 8.

  FEAR OF GOD, the proper guide of life, vii. 284.
    contrasted with fashion, 286.
    with law, 288.
    with philosophy, 291.
    inclines men to depart from evil, 293.

  FELIX the Procurator, his character, vii. 2.
    effect of Paul’s preaching on him, 5.
    his subsequent treatment of the apostle, 15.

  FIGURATIVE language, a cause of obscurity in prophecy, v. 68.

  FIG-TREE, cursed, a sign, vii. 403.
    connected with that of purging the temple, 413.

  FIRE, allusion to its effects, frequent in Scripture, vi. 168.

  FLESH, the vices of, to be put away from us, vii. 48.

  FLEURY, Abbé, his observation on the authority of the Pope, v. 314.

  FREE-THINKING, modern, to be resolved into two sophisms, vii. 379.

  FRIENDSHIP, among the great scholars of every age, indelicacy in the
      expression of, viii. 259.
    various arguments in exercise for, 261.
    answered, 264.
    specimen of the high complimentary manner, 270.
    delicate ways of conveying encomium, 282.
    See Dr. JORTIN.


  G.

  GADARENES, their sordid prejudice against our Saviour, vii. 260.

  GALATIA, Churches of, early infested with false teachers, vi. 177.

  GALLIO, his disregard of miracles not proved, viii. 156.

  GENEALOGIES, system of, reprobated by St. Paul, vi. 116.

  GENESIS, a famous passage in, how regarded by different critics, viii.
      346.

  GENTILES, method of the early Christians to convert, v. 125.
    how convinced by the argument of prophecy, 126.
    their conversion foretold, 155.
    took its rise by small beginnings, 164.
    prevailed by pacific means only, 165.
    are a law unto themselves, vi. 37, 38.
    force of conscience among them, 43.
    diversity of human judgment accounted for, 44.
    their debates concerning right and wrong evinced their sense of
      natural law, 49.
    benefits of redemption extend to them, 63.
    their notion of a temple, 383.
    their conversion quick and general, vii. 73.
    condition of the poor among them, 198.
    adversaries of the Christian religion among them, vii. 371.
    the calling of, predicted by the expulsion of buyers and sellers from
      the temple, vii. 409.

  GIBBON, Mr. his anonymous letter to Dr. Hurd, v. 363.
      answered, 386.
    character of his _History_, 401.

  GLORIFYING of God, in our body and spirit, vi. 378.

  GLOUCESTER, Bishop of, his idea of the nature and character of an
      inspired language vindicated, viii. 307.
    obviates an objection made by Dr. Middleton, 309, 311.
    avows his notion of eloquence to be a paradox, and at the same time
      truth, 312.
    nominal barbarity of the style of the New Testament, a mark of its
      miraculous original, 317.
    the inspiration comprehended the terms, and their grammatical
      congruity, 321.
    circumstances, abilities, and qualifications of the Apostles who
      received it, 324.
    opposes Dr. Middleton’s proposition concerning eloquence, 333.
      proves that no archetype of that quality exists, 339.
        that the sublime of eloquent expression depends on casual
      associations, 334, 347.
      shews that eloquence was not necessary to the Apostles, 354.
    his idea of the end of eloquence justified, 354, 362.
    considers clearness and precision as the aids common to all
      language, 365.
    tropes and figures when and in what sense vicious, 367, 373.

  GOD, what must be done to obtain his favour, vii. 81.
      what that favour is, 89.

  GODLINESS, the great mystery of, vii. 62.

  GOSPEL, its connection with prophecy, iv. 42.
    with that concerning its promulgation, v. 156.
    by whom announced, 160.
    contrary to the structure of the Jewish law, 161.
    its use not discredited by the natural moral law, vi. 57.
    its necessity not superseded, 59.
    the eternal purpose of God declared in it, 76.
    why not forced on the minds of men by irresistible evidence, 93.
    stress laid on Faith, 95.
    binds men together as brethren, 136.
    illuminates and sanctifies men by successive improvements, vi. 208.
    its doctrines and precepts forbid us to seek the honour of men, 247.
    its rapid propagation, vii. 73.
    if hid, is hid to them that are lost, 96.
    appealed to, when written, as the ground of belief, 117.
    preached to the poor, 193.

  ——, Sermon before the society for propagating, viii. 23.

  GRACE, the law of, vi. 70, 71.
    some had rather trust to the law of nature, 73.
    obligatory on those who do not receive it, 77, 78.

  GREGORY I., his dispute with the Bishop of Constantinople, v. 188.
    disclaimed the title of universal Bishop, 189.

  GROTIUS, HUGO, undertook to prove that the Pope was not Antichrist, v.
      221.
      from what motives, 222.
    a conjecture of his confuted by Bishop Newton, 300.
    his comment on the washing of the disciples’ feet, vi. 152. n.


  H.

  HALF-BELIEF, a vice of the spirit, vii. 50.

  HARDWICKE, Lord Chancellor, his opinion concerning appeals at the
      University of Cambridge, supported, viii. 189, 221.

  HEARING, the way by which faith cometh, vi. 201.
    admonitions concerning, 203.
    diligence in, why requisite, _ib._ 205, 207.

  HEATHENS, their quick conversion to Christianity, viii. 152.
    inquiry into their opinion of miracles, 155, 181.

  HELL, the gates of, their signification in Scripture, vii. 356.

  HERESIES, their origin, vii. 102.

  HESIOD, his maxim on contention, viii. 279, 281.

  HIEROGLYPHICS, their origin, v. 239.
    means of learning them, 245.

  HIPPIAS, the Elean, boasted that he knew every thing, vi. 285.

  HOLY GHOST, the living in communion with, vi. 382.
    the possessor of the body of Christians, 386.
    See SPIRIT.

  HONOUR, the duty of preferring one another in, explained, vi. 130.
    its nature and grounds, 132.
    right application of it in practice, 137.
    that only which cometh of God, to be sought, 245.
    the Gothic principle of, inflames pride, 337.

  HOPE, Christian, the precept of giving a reason for, explained, vii. 110.
    to be given with meekness and fear, 122.

  HORACE, his indelicate encomium on Virgil, viii. 259.

  HUMANITY, its duties never overlooked by the inspired writers, vi. 130.

  HUMILITY, Christian, how best expressed, vi. 186.
    first acknowledged as a virtue by our Saviour, 334.
    why so rare among men, _ib._ 336, 337.
    of whom to be learned, 339.
    ensures rest to our souls, 343.

  HYPOCRITES, those who embrace Christianity from corrupt motives, vi. 302.


  I. and J.

  JAMES I. remark of Hume on his commentary on the Revelations, vi. 266.

  IDOLATRY, how designated in the language of Scripture, v. 305, 311.
    of two sorts, 316.

  JEROM, states the notion of the ancient Fathers respecting Antichrist,
      v. 184.
    Speaks of the fall of the Roman empire, 230.

  JERUSALEM, destruction of, v. 135.
      by the Romans, 138.
      of the temple, 140.
    its mystical sense, 301.
    its destruction, of what emblematical, vii. 328.

  JEWS, their erroneous notion of the use and end of prophecy, v. 10.
    divine communications concerning Christ, why appropriated to them, 64.
    origin of their principal mistake respecting the Messiah, 99.
    prophetic spirit, how employed under their system of polity, 106.
    why many of them not convinced by the argument of prophecy, 119.
    their incredulity foretold by their own prophets, 120.
    their invincible prejudices, 122.
    driven to the necessity of supposing a two-fold Messias, 123.
    destruction of their city and temple, 135.
    their dispersion, 143.
    their number comparatively small in Judæa, 152.
    distinguished by descent, as well as by religion, 153.
    their language why figurative, 241.
    hieroglyphic style common among them, 243.
    their ritual abounding in symbols, 263.
    their idolatry considered as adultery, 306.
    how far enabled to compute the time of the Messiah’s appearing, 327.
    a plain frugal people, vi. 2.
    to what purpose their law was given, 53.
    how to be judged for disbelieving the Gospel, 79.
    questions respecting wars and fightings among them, 101.
    their practice of conveying information by action, 146.
    heterodoxy with them disloyalty, 292.
    their notion of a temple, 383.
    why our Lord spake to them in parables, vii. 143, 151.
      and wrought few miracles among them who believed not, 159.
    condition of the poor among them, 197.
    their prejudices against our Saviour, 256.
    abused the right of retaliation, 311.
    ashamed of Christ, 327.
    the Christian religion prevailed over their prejudices, 369.
    the rejection of them prefigured, 412.
    conduct of their rulers, when our Lord had purged the temple, 414.

  IMMANUEL, prophecy of Isaiah concerning, v. 108.

  IMMORTALITY, a free gift to man, how forfeited, and restored, vi. 70.
      vii. 19.

  IMPENITENCE, final, the issue of procrastination and vice, vii. 14.

  INCENSE, a symbol of prayer, v. 263.

  INCUMBENT, the proper name of a parochial minister, viii. 76.

  INDEPENDENCY, a name comprehending a thousand sects, viii. 43.

  INFIDELITY, may proceed from the pride of reason, vii. 99.

  INFIDELS, their main argument against prophecy answered, v. 82.

  INQUIRIES, religious, how to be conducted, vii. 116, 119, 122.

  INTERCESSION, of Christians for each other, a duty, v. 322.
    distinguished from the worship of saints, 323.

  INTEGRITY, requisite in judging of religion, vi. 34.
    an admiration of, may lead to irreligion, vi. 254.

  JOB, his complaint of being made to possess the iniquities of his youth,
      vi. 393.

  JOHN, St. his vision of the marriage of the Lamb, v. 23, 24.
    his mention of Antichrist, v. 175.
    designates the appearance of Antichrist, v. 329, 330.

  JORTIN, Dr. an address to, on the delicacy of friendship, viii. 257.
    happy in avoiding the offensive custom into which the learned have
      fallen, 268.
    his conduct towards his friend the author of the D. L. 274.
      adopted his subject, 275, 283.
      wrote against him, 277, 285.
      glanced at him, _ib._ 286.
      spared his arguments, _ib._
      furnished him with others, 287.
      quoted him, 288.
      called his conjecture ingenious, 290.
        nay elegant, 293.
      and the writer a learned friend, 297.

  JOSEPHUS, his account of the religion of his countrymen, v. 356.
    his praise of Daniel, 370.

  IRRELIGION, not so general as is imagined, v. 354.

  ISAIAH, a remarkable prophecy addressed by him to Ahaz, v. 107.
    how he claimed belief of the Jews, 110.
    his prophecy respecting parables, vii. 148.
    considered two ways, 149, 150.
    his prophecies, to what chiefly relating, 405.

  JUDAS, his treachery foreseen, vi. 150.
    had no part with Jesus, 158.

  JUS TALIONIS, why necessary in the Mosaic institute, vii. 311.

  JUSTICE, Civil, perverted by the lusts of men, vi. 109.

  JUSTIN MARTYR, urges the argument from prophecy in his apology to the
      Antonines, v. 125.


  K.

  KEY to the Revelations, by Mr. Mede, examined, v. 275.

  KINGDOM of Christ, import of the prayer, that it may _come_, v. 103.

  KNOWLEDGE, requisite to judge of Christianity, vi. 32.
    why productive of pride and vanity, vi. 277.
    its remedy, not ignorance, but charity, _ib._
    error in considering it the supreme good, 278.

  —— religious, of the present age, compared with that in the times of
      the Reformation, vi. 189.

  KNOWLEDGE OF LIFE, a name for fraud and disingenuity, vi. 233.


  L.

  LACTANTIUS, his confidence in the spread of the Gospel, v. 355.

  LANGUAGE, original, of all nations imperfect, v. 237.

  —— inspired, needs not be perfectly eloquent, viii. 311.
    must necessarily abound in the native idioms of the persons inspired,
      314.
    correspondency of terms, to give clear intelligence, 319.
    impression of phrases and idioms not to be expected, 328.
    no archetype in nature, to which eloquence refers, 333.
    clearness and precision the aids common to all language, 365.

  LAW of the magistrate, by whom deemed an adequate rule of action, vii.
      288.

  —— Jewish, to what end instituted, v. 48, 52.

  —— Natural, written in the heart, vi. 39, 40.
    appealed to by heathens as well as Christians, 48.
    necessary to the support of revelation, 54.
    does not discredit the use of the Gospel, 57.
    its existence presupposed by the Christian law, 64.
    its penalties, 69.

  LEBANON, a symbol of a city, v. 263.

  LELAND, Dr. letter to, viii. 307.
    Real subject of his dissertation on the principles of eloquence, _ib._
    his remark on the imperfect correspondency of words in languages, 318.
    his objections to the Bishop of Gloucester’s notion of inspired
      language refuted, 328, 330.
    his opinion respecting eloquence controverted, 337.
    his appeal to the rules of rational criticism answered, 349.
    his misrepresentation of the Bishop’s remark on tropes and figures,
      exposed, 366, 370, 378.

  LEO X. issued an edict against the use of the term Antichrist, v. 201.

  LETTER, anonymous, to Dr. Hurd, concerning the Apocalypse, v. 364.
    answer to it, 386.
    Mr. Gibbon the writer of the letter, 400.

  LEVITY of mind, a spiritual vice, vii. 53.

  LIBERTY, misused, its fatal effects, vi. 103.
    civil and religious, favoured by religion, viii. 38.
      questions respecting the abuse of the latter, 48.
      of the former, 49.

  LIFE ETERNAL, doctrine of, first delivered to us through Jesus Christ,
      vii. 18.
    scheme of God’s providence respecting, 22.
    different degrees of happiness or misery in, 27.
    may be taken in two senses, 34.

  LIGHT, the emblem of knowledge, vii. 78.
    that of revelation the most certain, 79.

  LIGHTFOOT, Dr. his idea of the apocalyptic style, v. 266.

  LITIGATION, ancient, a picture of, vi. 112, 113.

  LITURGY of the church of England, generally commended, viii. 65.

  LONGINUS, his opinion of a famous passage in Genesis, viii. 346.

  LOWTH, Dr. distinguished for a species of literary address, viii. 286.

  LUSTS, the origin of wars and fighting among men, vi. 102.
    perverted religion, 104.
      and civil justice, 109.

  LUTHER, his resolution to break through the papal servitude, v. 209.
    dreaded the charge of schism, 211.


  M.

  MAHOMETAN imposture, its success, to what owing, vii. 362.

  MALACHI, foretold the precursor of the Messiah, v. 115.

  MALMESBURY, the philosopher of, how misled into infidelity, vi. 253.

  MAMMON of unrighteousness, the precept of making friends of, vi. 351,
      377.

  MANICHÆAN doctrine, early prevalent in the East, vii. 245, 268.
    spirit of Christianity abhorrent from it, 271.

  MANSIONS, many in the house of our heavenly Father, vii. 210.

  MANTUAN, his character of a pope, v. 303, 304.

  MARCELLINUS, his mention of the fiery eruptions of Jerusalem, viii. 160.

  MEAUX, Bishop of. See Bossuet.

  MEDE, his observation on the prophetic chronology of Daniel, v. 66. n.
    on the use and intent of prophecy, 106. n.
    on the doctrine of Antichrist, 195. n.
    his opinion on the Apocalypse, 261.
    sketch of his character, 271.
    his disinterestedness and impartiality, 273.
    his Key to the Revelations considered, 275.

  MEDES and Persians, their law unalterable, v. 376, 392.

  MEEKNESS, the virtue of, nearly dismissed from the world, vi. 338.
    not absolutely incompatible with resentment, 347.

  MESSIAS, a particular prophecy concerning, v. 75.
    various specific characters in the prophecies respecting him, 82.
    contrast of the Christian and the Jewish interpretations, 123.

  METAPHORS, in the Oriental style, frequent, vi. 171.
    the offspring of nature and necessity, viii. 338.

  MIDDLETON, Dr. his objection to the notion of an inspired language,
      viii. 309.

  MILTON, his allusion to an eclipse as ominous, v. 246. n.

  MINISTER of the Gospel, for what use his stores of knowledge are
      destined, vi. 5.
    his office, 7.
    decorum of his character, 8.
    the word to be dispensed to those who most need it, 11.

  MIRACLES, a great foundation of our faith, 266.
    few wrought by our Saviour among the unbelieving Jews, vii. 159.
    because many were not necessary to their conviction, 163.
    or to give a just proof of his mission, 165.
    would have hindered the success of his ministry, 167.
    and have violated a general rule of his conduct, 170.
    opinion of the heathens concerning, viii. 155.
    many seeming ones imputed to the power of magic, 176.
    difference of those wrought by Christ and his apostles, 177.

  MISSIONARY, Christian, his arduous duties, vii. 30.

  MORALIST, Pagan, his reproof of a young reveller, vi. 210.

  MORALITIES, the lesser, what, vi. 131.

  MORALITY, some incline too much to it, at the expence of faith, vi. 218.
    how relaxed by casuistry, 237.

  MOSES, weight of his prophecy with the Jews, v. 109, 110.
    foretold their dispersion, 143.

  MYSTERIES of God’s kingdom, declared in parables, vii. 155.

  MYSTICAL meanings, in the prophetic style, v. 301.


  N.

  NAHUM, his prediction of the overthrow of Nineveh, v. 254.

  NAMES of eminent persons, custom of changing in the ancient world,
      iii. 354.

  NATURE, human, not a sufficient guide in religion, vi. 269.
    a generous pride why implanted in it, 334.

  NAZARETH, why our Saviour wrought few miracles there, vii. 160.
      evil disposition of the people towards him, 168, 253.

  NERO, by some considered as the Antichrist of a future age, v. 183.

  NEWTON, Sir ISAAC, his remark on the prophecy of Revelations, v. 226. n.
    on the prophetic characters of Antichrist, 289.
    his illustration of prophecy how considered by the infidels, vi.
      265. n.

  NICODEMUS, ashamed of Christ, vii. 337.


  O.

  OBEDIENCE, perfect, to be attained by degrees, vi. 208.
    the promise annexed to it, vii. 20.

  OECUMENICAL (or universal) Bishop, a title assumed by the Bishop of
      Constantinople, v. 188.
    accepted by Boniface VI. 190.

  OFFENCES, or scandals, mentioned by our Lord, what, vi. 161.

  ONEIROCRITICS, v. 246.
    their rules of use in explaining prophecy, 248.

  ORACLES, Pagan, their design, v. 8.
    wherein unlike scriptural prophecies, 60.

  ORIGEN, his reply to a remark of Celsus on miracles, viii. 161. n.


  P.

  PAGANS, their superstitions whence derived, v. 246.
    two religious topics on which their wise men were chiefly intent,
      vii. 241.
    ashamed of Christ, vii. 332.

  PARABLES, all the prophecies written in, v. 260.
    why addressed by our Saviour to the Jews, vii. 143, 145.
    what their subject, 154.

  PARIS, MATTHEW, his testimony respecting the charge of Antichristianism
      on the see of Rome, v. 197.

  PASCAL, his remark on the dispensation of prophecy, v. 62.
    on the danger of disbelief, 301.

  PATIENCE, requisite in judging of Christianity, vi. 32.

  PAUL, St. his characteristic of Antichrist, v. 299.
    his remark on his appearance, 329.
    his awful warning against unbelief, 359.
    his zeal of persecution while a Jew, vi. 290.
    why he called himself the chief of sinners, 295.
      his error not innocent, 303.
    his address in reproving the Corinthians, 379.
      substance of his remonstrance, 387.
    his preaching before Felix, vii. 2.
    his divine encomium on our Lord’s ministry, 205.
    his labours at Ephesus how overturned, 259.
    effects of his preaching at Athens, 261.

  PEARSON, Dr. an excellent commentator on the Catechism, viii. 138.

  PERSECUTION, almost sanctioned by the Jewish law, vi. 293.

  —— of the Apostles, resistance to it forbidden, vii. 316.
    of the first Christians by the Jews and Gentiles, 358.

  PETER, St. denied his Lord through shame, vii. 334.
      and fear, 335.
    his name why conferred on him, 355.
    two prophecies thus given, 357.

  PETRARCH, applies the name of Babylon to Rome, v. 198.

  PHARISEES, how reproved by our Saviour for infidelity, vi. 261.
    with what view they heard the word of the Lord, vi. 212.
    why they derided our Saviour’s precepts, 350, 352.

  PHILIP, one of the Apostles, asks of Christ that he would shew them the
      Father, vi. 84.

  PHILOLOGIST, Italian, his objection to reading the Bible, vii. 343.

  PHILOSOPHERS of the Gentiles, ill treated the poor, vii. 198.

  PHILOSOPHY, an inadequate rule of life, vii. 291.
    progress in, since the reformation, how far serviceable to religion,
      vi. 196, 199.

  PHINEHAS, his act of zeal, vii. 393.
    had relation to religion and not morals, 396.

  PLATO, at one time gave law to the Christian world, vii. 246.

  PLAY, the favourite amusement, because the most violent, vii. 299.

  PLEASURE, the lover of, cannot be rich, vi. 403.

  PLEASURES, the pursuit of, to be restrained, vii. 298.
    when lawful, may not be expedient, 300.
    the mind should be independent of, 305.

  PLINY, abounded in fulsome encomiums, viii. 261.

  POETS, Greek and Latin, their works of use in the exposition of the
      ancient Prophets, v. 249.

  POLITENESS, true, distinguished from false, vi. 139.

  POMPEY, his generosity in burning the papers of an enemy, vi. 414.

  POOR, the Gospel preached to the, vii. 193.
    their condition when Saviour appeared among them, 197, 198.
    their hearts less perverse than those of the rich and great and
      wise, 200.

  POPE, the, styled Antichrist at the synod of Rheims in the tenth
      century, v. 191.
    his authority defined by the Abbé Fleury, v. 314.

  POPERY, how brought into disrepute among us, vi. 19.

  PORPHYRY, illustrated the book of Daniel, v. 365.

  POSSESSIONS, demonic, explained, vii. 273.

  PRAISE, general, a woe denounced against those who obtain it, vi. 304.
    implies a mediocrity of virtue, 306.
    frequently positive ill desert, 310.
    and sometimes depravity and prostitution of character, 313.

  PRAYER, its efficacy considered, vii. 82.

  —— THE LORD’S, an instance of Oriental construction in, vi. 165.

  PREACHER, Christian, character of one, viii. 120, 122, 125.

  PREJUDICE, the strange power of, exemplified, vii. 255.
    among the Jews, 254.
    among the Gentiles, 258, 261.
    among the Heathens in the fourth century, 262.
    in later times, 263.

  PRETENCES, continued, become realities, vi. 257.

  PRIDE, how generated, vi. 132, 133.
    to be corrected by philanthropy, 134.
    why a vice, 277.
    how counteracted by charity, 278, 287.
    mistaken for a natural principle, 336.
    made sacred by fashion, 337.
    danger of indulging it, 343.
    intellectual and moral, productive of infidelity, vii. 99, 106.

  PROCRASTINATION, the usual support of vice, vii. 5, 6.
    is itself supported by sophistry, 9.
    leads to final impenitence, 14.

  PROPHECY, scriptural meaning of the term, v. 3.
    origin of false ideas respecting its subjects, 4.
    its ultimate purpose, 8.
    and dispensation, 12.
    questions to be answered by enquirers into its divine character, 15.
    true idea of it, 21, 26, 27. n.
    our reasonings on the subject how to be regulated, 32.
    what its ultimate accomplishment, 34.
    its extent, 37.
    considered as a system, 39.
    conclusions from the true idea of it, 44.
    why obscurely delivered, 45, 46.
    what its _double sense_, 51.
    how distinguished from Pagan oracles, 60.
    why confined to one nation, 62.
    its obscurity affords no objection to it, 67.
    general argument from it, 74, 76.
    instances of casual conjecture fulfilled by events, 83, 85.
      answer to objection on this ground, 88.
    examples illustrating the general scheme of prophetic writings, 96.
    prophecies concerning the Messiah’s first coming, 103.
    unity of design with all the prophets, 113.
    amount of evidence on comparing predictions with facts, 118.
      the Jews why not convinced, 119.
    its weight with the Gentiles, 125.
    how connected with the evidence from miracles, 130.
    prophecies concerning Christ’s second coming, 132.
    and the Christian Church, 133.
    destruction of Jerusalem, 135.
    dispersion of the Jews, 143.
    call and conversion of the Gentiles, 156.
    concerning Antichrist, 171.
    what its declared end, 226.
    style of prophetic writing considered, 233.
      why more figurative than ours, 236.
    tinctured with the Hieroglyphic spirit, 240.
    means of rendering it intelligible to us, 244.
    some important prophecies delivered in the way of dreams, 248.
    causes of the obscurity of prophecy, 251.
    suspicions taken up against it, unfounded, 256.
    the symbolic style expedient in such writings, 258.
    its chronology not defined with historical exactness, 326.
    uses of the inquiry into, 351.
    chief evidences of religion drawn from, 263.
    nature of the prophetic power, vii. 226.
    how liable to be abused by pretenders to it, 227.

  PROPHETS, Jewish, used similitudes, vii. 402.

  PROPITIATION, doctrine of, how inculcated by our Lord, vi. 151, 155.

  PROTESTANTS, their tenets respecting Antichrist, v. 173.
    how far their aversion to the Church of Rome properly extends, 217.
    their divines censured for temerity in fixing the fall of Antichrist,
      229.
    justified by the Apocalyptic prophecies, 342.
    how secured against the charges of schism and heresy, 350.

  PUNISHMENTS, future, how proved to be eternal, vi. 164.

  PURITANS, their struggles for Church dominion, viii. 42, 43.

  PURITY of speech, what, viii. 334, 342.


  Q.

  QUERIES, respecting the right or appeal in the University of Cambridge,
      viii. 195.
    answers to, 197.
    the proper ones formerly put, and differently answered, 207, 221.

  QUINTILIAN, his admiration of Plato’s eloquence, vii. 125.
    his idea of the nature of eloquence, viii. 358, 360.
    his observation on verbal figures, 366.


  R.

  REASON, its use, on the argument of prophecy, v. 19.
    how to be employed on the evidences of religion, vi. 97, 98.
    compared with revelation as a guide in matters of religion, vii. 80,
      92.
    why given to man, 99.
    what its pride, 102.
    its true use in support of Christianity, vii. 250, viii. 90.
    how abused, 99.
    how unpropitious to revelation, 109, 112.

  REBELLION, American, Sermon preached on account of, viii. 3.

  REDEMPTION, the great scheme of Providence, v. 57.
    through Christ extends to all men, vi. 63.
    brief account of, 70.
    vastness of the scheme, viii. 22.

  REFORMATION, in Germany, not effected wholly in the spirit of the
      Gospel, v. 167.
    begun and prosecuted on the principle that the Pope was Antichrist,
      200.
      that doctrine not an innovation, 207.
    two great principles on which it was conducted, 346.
    question respecting the interpretation of Scripture, _ib._
    various considerations decisive of the controversy with the Papists,
      350.
    an evil originating in, vii. 42.

  REFORMERS, their advancement in religious knowledge, vi. 190.
    formed their idea of Religion from the scriptures, _ib._
    how enabled to understand them, 192.
      especially the most important points of doctrine, 194, 196.

  RELIGION of Nature, and of the Gospel, defined, vi. 67.

  —— Christian, designed for the instruction of all degrees of men, vi. 24.
    its truths how to be explained to wise men, 25.
    high demands of evidence impertinent, 88.
    improper to be complied with, 90.
    presumptuous and unwarrantable, 96.
    mischiefs arising from misapplication of, 104.
    early attacked by superstition, 108.
      by worldly policy, 106.
    its whole system in what founded, 124.
    its doctrines objects of faith, and not of knowledge, 197.
    its chief evidences drawn from prophecies, 263.
      and miracles, 266.
    its doctrines consistent with reason, 268.
    does not oblige us to profess poverty, 375.
    hath descended to us through two, the most enlightened ages of the
      world, vii. 367.
    its power shewn in the zeal of Missionaries, viii. 30.
    most friendly to civil and religious liberty, 37.
    use and abuse of reason in, 89.
    its evidence the proper subject of enquiry, 98.

  REPENTANCE, what its merits and claims, vii. 85, 94.
    the great duty of, viii. 6.
    in the hour of national distress, 15.

  RESIDENCE, personal, of the clergy, its benefits, viii. 76.

  RETALIATION, strict, forbidden by our Saviour, vii. 310.
    natural resentment not therefore superseded, 314.
    true patriotism not injured, 318.
      nor military spirit weakened, 319.
    the injunction consistent with the true interest of individuals, 321.

  REVELATION, the only sure guide in matters of religion, vii. 79.
    how opposed by the pride of reason, 104.
    why not accompanied with the strongest possible evidence, 91.

  REVELATIONS, book of, its prophecies in part fulfilled, v. 127.
    its character and authority, 261.
    its style, 262, 265.
    its method, 268.
    examined by means of Mr. Mede’s discovery, 275.
    what the chronological order of the visions, 276.
    the prophecy made up of two great parts, 279.
    the book, of three, 280.
    of the residence of Antichrist, 290.
    proved to be Rome Christian, 297.
    its predictions respecting the time of his appearing, 326.
    foretels all the events of the Christian dispensation, 341.
    utility of studying this prophecy, 351.

  REVOLUTION, the æra of our liberty, viii. 47.

  RICHARD I. heard a lecture against Antichrist at Messina, v. 195.

  RIDICULE, the resource of sinners, vi. 353, 357, 359.
    especially when reproof comes home to them, 363.

  ROMAN EMPIRE, its reverse of fortune ascribed by the Heathens to
      Christianity, vii. 262.

  ROMANS, their nice sense of right and wrong, vi. 50.
    abuses in the administration of justice, 111.

  ROME, ancient, a supposition concerning, v. 57.
    Virgil’s allusion to its seven hills, 293.
    modern, the throne of Antichrist, v. 291.
    ecclesiastical and not civil, 297.
    its idolatry how described, 309.
    why a harlot and not an adulteress, 312.
    her pride and intolerance, 313.
    professes and enjoins the worship of Saints, 317.
    its tenets respecting Antichrist, v. 173.
    the Antipopes branded each other with that name, 186.
    denounced as Antichristian at various periods, 191 to 201.

  ROMULUS, famous omen of his twelve vultures, v. 83.

  ROUSSEAU, disclaims the authority of prophecy, v. 77. n.
    his reasons examined, 78.
    his strange boast of probity, vi. 257.


  S.

  SACRAMENTS, Christian, on what principle founded, vii. 402.

  SAINTS, the worship of, in the Romish Church, v. 317.
    apology for, controverted, 319.

  SALLUST, in his writings, appears a model of frugality, vii. 185.

  SALT, allusion of our Saviour to, its two interpretations, vi. 163, 164.
    applied to discipline as well as faith, 170.

  SALVATION through the blood of Christ, the eternal purpose of God,
      viii. 25.
    danger of neglecting it, vi. 67, 81.
    faith and morality its appointed means, 218.

  SANHEDRIN, could not punish with death but by leave of the Roman
      governor, vi. 323.

  SCHISM, import and application of the term by the Church of Rome, v. 208.
    how introduced into the Church, viii. 61.

  SCIENCE, human, very limited, vi. 184.

  SCIPIO, his continence, and frivolous curiosity, vii. 306.

  SCRIBE, Christian, compared with a Jewish householder, vi. 3.

  SCORN, irreligious, the sources of, vi. 353.
    admonition against, 364.

  SECTS, fanatical, of the last century, confusion caused by, vi. 16.

  SELDEN, his notion on the expulsion of the buyers and sellers from the
      temple, vii. 393.
      where apparently taken up, 398.

  SELF-DENIAL, its uses, vii. 306.

  SELF-LOVE, too frequently the parent of pride, vi. 132, 133.
    its ends how answered by philanthropy, 137.
    an instinctive sentiment, 335.

  SENECA, an oracle of his, predicting the discoveries of Columbus, v. 85.

  SERMONS, advice respecting, viii. 68, 120, 124.
    models proposed, 128. n.

  SHAKESPEAR, various editions and criticisms of, how occasioned, viii.
      283.

  SHAME of Christ, what, vii. 329.
    cases which imply its existence among unbelievers, 330.
    among professors of Christianity, 334, 338.
    shame of his words, 342.
      of the doctrines contained in them, 346.
      of the precepts, 349.

  SHERLOCK, Bishop, his remark on the figurative language of prophecy,
      v. 68. n.

  SIBYLLINE oracles, general opinion concerning, v. 369.

  SIGN, what is meant by the Jews requiring one, viii. 168. n.

  SILVER, the lover of, shall not be satisfied, vi. 366.

  SIMPLICITY concerning evil, the virtue of, in what consisting, vi. 231.
    the neglect of it has degraded religion, 234.
    relaxed morality, 237.
    and polluted common life, 239.
    caution against evasive pleas and pretences to part with it, 240.

  SLAVERY, personal, common among the Heathen, vi. 386.

  SOCIETY for the Propagation of the Gospel, its objects, viii. 27, 28.

  SOCINIANISM, what, viii. 114.

  SOCRATES, his prediction of his own death fulfilled, v. 80. n.
    confessed that he knew nothing, vi. 285.
    uncertain in his hope of immortality, vii. 215.

  SOLOMON, prescribes the Fear of God as a rule of life, vii. 283.
    peculiar deference due to his judgment from men of the world, 293.
      from politicians and philosophers, 294.

  SOULS of Men, influence of evil spirits on, vii. 274.

  SPEAKING, the rules of, more arbitrary than they are taken to be, vii.
      344.

  SPENDTHRIFT, more to be reprobated than the miser, vi. 370.

  SPENSER, his general purpose in the Faery Queen, v. 97.

  SPIRIT, Holy, he that soweth in, shall reap life everlasting, vii. 32.
    in what sense the assertion understood, 33.
    in what way the blessing conferred, 37.
    returns of duty thereby required, 40.
    justification of God in, 66.

  —— Human, its vices, vii. 49.
    —a fluctuating faith, 50.
    levity of mind, 53.
    deadness of heart, 56.
    perverse sophistry, 58.

  STATE, why it countenances the Church, viii. 62.

  STATUTES, relating to the jurisdiction of Cambridge university,
      examined, viii. 200.

  SUBLIMITY of speech, what, viii. 334, 342.
    the definition illustrated, 345.
    not united with simplicity, 347.

  SULLY, the great, his situation somewhat similar to that of Daniel,
      v. 374.

  SUPERSTITION, its early inroads into the Christian religion, vi. 105.

  SYMBOLS, an early way of writing, v. 238.

  SYNCHRONISMS of the book of Revelations, v. 275, 279, 283.


  T.

  TABOR, Mr. his mumpings against university-appeals, viii. 231.

  TEMPLE, what the notion of one implies, vi. 383.
    of God, an emblem of the Church of Christ, v. 301.

  —— of Jerusalem, utterly destroyed, v. 140.
    buyers and sellers driven from, vii. 386.
      the act a prediction of the call of the Gentiles, 408.

  TEMPTATION, God’s providence respecting, vii. 280.

  TERTULLIAN, his remark on the rapid progress of Christianity, viii. 153.

  TESTAMENT, Old, considered by St. Austin, a prophecy to the New, v.
      53. n.
    the divinity of both inferred from the completion of prophecy, 127.

  TESTIMONY of Jesus, the spirit of prophecy, v. 21, 24.

  TEXT, which the most difficult in the four Gospels, vi. 160.

  THEOLOGY, dogmatical, essential to Christianity, viii. 60.

  THEOPHRASTUS, a name, why given, vii. 125.

  THOMAS the Apostle, admonished respecting faith, vi. 95.

  TIBERIUS, the religion of Jesus first published in his reign, vii. 367.

  TILLOTSON, Abp. his zeal against Antinomianism, vi. 17.

  TIME, scriptural division of, respecting the coming of Christ, v. 17.

  TOLERATION, not yet perfectly understood, vi. 195.

  TRINITY in Unity, where accurately distinguished, vii. 44.

  TROPES and figures, when and in what sense vicious, viii. 366.
    what forms of language so denominated by Quintilian, 371.
    often a deviation from logical definition, 377.
    when they may be allowed, 378.

  TRUTH, the spirit of, promised by our Lord to his apostles, vii. 222.
    the promise fulfilled by the event, 235.


  U. & V.

  VANITY, why a vice, vi. 127.

  VETTIUS VALENS, augured the duration of the Roman empire, v. 83.

  VICE, naturally breeds a disposition to ridicule, vi. 353.
    what its usual support, vii. 5.

  VIRGIL, purpose of his predictions in the Æneid, v. 96.
    a passage from, descriptive of Rome, 292.
    allusion to the predictions in his fourth eclogue, 368.
    the sixth book of his Æneid by whom finely criticized, viii. 277.

  VIRTUE, superior, excites envy, vi. 306.
    runs at times into excesses, 308.
    can never obtain general praise, 309.
    an intermitting state of, most miserable, 399.
    what its reasonable reward, vii. 91.
    the pride of, by which the Gospel may be hid from us, 106.

  VIRTUES of the Heathen, vi. 42.

  ULPIAN, his observation on the right of appeal, viii. 249.

  UNBELIEF, always owing to some or other of the passions, vi. 245.
    accounted for, from man’s pride, viii. 109.
    and indolence, 113.

  UNCLEANNESS, arguments against the sin of, vi. 382, 385.
    its heinousness, 391.
    inexcusable in Christians, 392.

  VOLTAIRE, his sarcasm on Sir Isaac Newton, vi. 265. n.


  W.

  WALDENSES, or ALBIGENSES, in what age they first appeared, v. 195.
    leading principle of their heresy, 196.
    crusades employed against them, _ib._

  WAR, civil, a most dreadful instrument of God’s government, viii. 8.

  WASHING of the disciples’ feet, a lesson of humility, vi. 145.
    its other, and more important signification, 149, 150.

  WEALTH, pernicious when over-rated, vi. 368.
    or when misapplied, 370.
    always a snare, and too often a curse, 375.
    has a tendency to corrupt manners, vii. 293.

  WESTON, Mr. remarks on his inquiry into the rejection of Christian
      miracles by the heathens, viii. 150.
    his negative testimonies examined, 155.
    his positive testimonies, 161.
    his charge on the fathers of the Church, 163.
    claims the sanction of an apostle, 165.
    his strong hold proves to be magic, 175.
    answer to his argument from the multiplication of Heathen Gods, 179.
    ground-work of his performance, 183.

  WESTERN EMPIRE, the period of its dismemberment that of the rise of
      Antichrist, v. 330.

  WICLIF exposed the Antichristianism of the Roman pontiff, v. 199.
    great effects of his writings, 200.

  WILL-WORSHIP, condemned in Scripture, v. 325.

  WISDOM, infinite, in the dispensation of prophecy, v. 6, 70.

  —— Christian, its properties and characters, vi. 215.
    defects in our nature which hinder the attainment of it, 217.
    virtues, how to be rendered most graceful, 220.
    how most reasonable, 222.
    and how most attractive and efficacious, 225.
    character of a wise Christian, 227.
    the duty of being simple concerning evil, 231.

  WISE MEN, invited to judge of Christianity, vi. 8.
    qualities requisite for this, 32.

  WIT, the ostentation of, leads to infidelity, vi. 248.

  WOE to those of whom all men speak well, vi. 304.

  WORD OF GOD, admonitions respecting the hearing of, vi. 203, 205.
    the ministry of it, for what purposes destined, 207.
    men will finally be judged by it, 211.


  X.

  XENOPHON, character of his writings, v. 382.
    his admirable way of recording his own acts, vii. 179.


  Y.

  YOUTH, its peculiar sins, vi. 394.
    just decrees of God against them, 395.
    guilt and remorse, _ib._
    tyrannous habits produced by them, 399.
    temporal afflictions which they entail, 401.
    value of innocency and rectitude, 405.


  Z.

  ZEDEKIAH, two ænigmatical prophecies respecting him fulfilled, v. 253.

  ZELOTISM, its object, vii. 396.


THE END.

Nichols and Son, Printers, Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.


[Transcriber’s Note:

Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.

Greek words beginning with ϖ have had the character replaced with π.]



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