that instruction was necessary,-enlist all the generous feelings of their nature on the side of infidelity,-and make piety and reason itself appear like prejudice and bigotry. We think it fortunate, therefore, upon the whole, that the controversial writings of Warburton are already sunk in oblivion,-since, even if we thought more highly than we do of the substantial merit of his arguments, we should still be of opinion that they were likely to do more mischief than the greater part of the sophistries which it was their professed object to counteract and discredit.

These desultory observations have carried us, so completely away from the book, by the title of which they were suggested, that we have forgotten to announce to our readers, that it contains a series of familiar letters, addressed by Warburton to Doctor (afterwards Bishop) Hurd, from the year 1749, when their acquaintance commenced, down to 1776, when the increasing infirmities of the former put a stop to the correspondence. Some little use was made of these letters in the life of his friend, which Bishop Hurd published, after a very long delay, in 1794; but the treasure was hoarded up, in the main, till the death of that prelate; soon after which, the present volume was prepared for publication, in obedience to the following intimation prefixed to the original collection, and now printed in the front of the book.

These letters give so true a picture of the writer's character, and are, besides, so worthy of him in all respects (I mean, if the reader can forgive the playfulness of his wit in some instances, and the partiality of his friendship in many more), that, in honour of his memory, I would have them published after my death, and the profits arising from the sale of them, applied to the benefit of the Worcester Infirmary.

:

The tenor of this note, as well as the name and the memory of Warburton, excited in us no small curiosity to peruse the collection; and, for a moment, we entertained the hope of finding this intractable and usurping author softened down, in the simple intercourse of private life, to something of a more amiable and engaging form and when we found his right reverend correspondent speaking of the playfulness of his wit, and the partiality of his friendships, we almost persuaded ourselves, that we should find, in these letters, not only many traits of domestic tenderness and cordiality, but also some expressions of regret for the asperities with which, in the heat and the elation of controversy, he had insulted all who were opposed to him. It seemed natural, too, to expect, that along with the confessions of an author's vanity, we should meet with some reflections on his own good fortune, and some expressions of contentment and gratitude for the honours and dignities which had been heaped upon him.

In all this, however, we have been painfully disappointed. The arrogance and irritability of Warburton was never more conspicu ous than in these Letters, nor his intolerance of opposition, and his preposterous estimate of his own merit and importance. There is some wit-good and bad-scattered through them; and diverse fragments of criticism: but the staple of the correspondence is his own praise, and that of his friend, whom he magnifies and exalts, indeed, in a way that is very diverting. To him, and his other dependants and admirers, and their patrons, he is kind and complimentary to excess; but all the rest of the world he regards with contempt and indifference. The age is a good age or a bad age, according as it applauds or neglects the Divine Legation and the Commentary on Horace. Those who write against these works are knaves and drivellers,-and will meet with their reward in the contempt of another generation, and the tortures of another world!-Bishoprics and Chancellorships, on the other hand, are too little for those who extol or defend them; and Government is reviled for leaving the press open to Bolingbroke, and tacitly blamed for not setting Mr Hume on the pillory.

The natural connexion of the subject with the general remarks which we have already premised, leads us to begin our extracts with a few specimens of that savage asperity towards Christians and Philosophers, upon which we have felt ourselves called on to pass so decided a sentence of reprobation. In a letter, dated in 1749, we have the following passage about Mr Hume.

I am strongly tempted, too, to have a stroke at Hume in parting. He is the author of a little book, called Philosophical Essays; in one part of which he argues against the being of a God, and in another (very needlessly you will say) against the possibility of miracles. He has crowned the liberty of the press. And yet he has a considerable post under the Government. I have a great mind to do justice on his arguments against miracles, which I think might be done in few words. But does he deserve notice? Is he known amongst you? Pray answer me these questions; for if his own weight keeps him down, I should be sorry to contribute to his advancement to any place but the pillory.' p. 11.

In another place, he is pleased to say, under date of 1757, when Mr Hume's reputation for goodness, as well as genius, was fully established

There is an epidemic madness amongst us; to-day we burn with the feverish heat of Superstition; to-morrow we stand fixed and frozen in Atheism. Expect to hear that the churches are all crowded next Friday; and that on Saturday they buy up Hume's new Essays; the first of which (and please you) is The Natural History of Religion, for which I will trim the rogue's jacket, at least sit upon his skirts, as you will see when you come hither, and find his mar

gius

gins scribbled over. In a word, the Essay is to establish an Athe. istic naturalism, like Bolingbroke; and he goes upon one of Bol.'s capital arguments, that Idolatry and Polytheism were before the worship of the one God. It is full of absurdities; and here I come in with him; for they show themselves knaves: but, as you well observe, to do their business, is to show them fools. They say this man has several moral qualities. It may be so. But there are vices of the mind as well as body; and a wickeder heart, and more determined to do public mischief, I think I never knew.' p. 175.

It is natural and very edifying, after all this, to find him expressing the most unmeasured contempt even for the historical works of this author, and gravely telling his beloved friend, who was hammering out a dialogue on the English constitution,

As

to Hume's History, you need not fear being forestalled by a thousand such writers. But the fear is natural, as I have often felt, and as often experienced to be absurd.' We really were not aware, either that this History was generally looked upon as an irreligious publication, or that there was reason to suspect that Dr Robertson had no warm side to that cause more than his friend. Both these things, however, may be learned from the following short paragraph.

Hume has outdone himself in this new history, in showing his contempt of religion. This is one of those proof charges which Arbuthnot speaks of in his treatise of political lying, to try how much the public will bear. If his history be well received, I shall conclude that there is even an end of all pretence to religion. But I should think it will not: because I fancy the good reception of Robertson's proceeded from the decency of it.' p. 207.

The following is the liberal commentary which this christian divine makes upon Mr Hume's treatment of Rousseau.

It is a truth easily discoverable from his writings, that Hume could have but one motive in bringing him over (for he was under the protection of Lord Mareshal), and that was, cherishing a man whose writings were as mischievous to society as his own. The merits of the two philosophers are soon adjusted. There is an immense distance between their natural genius: none at all in their excessive anity; and much again in their good faith. Rousseau's warmth has made him act the madman in his philosophic inquiries, so that he oft saw not the mischief which he did: Hume's coldness made him not only see but rejoice in his. But it is neither parts nor logic that has made either of them philosophers, but infidelity only. For which, to be sure, they both equally deserve a PENSION.

,

p. 286-7. After all this, it can surprise us very little to hear him call Voltaire a scoundrel and a liar, and, in the bitterness of his heart, qualify Smollet by the name of a vagabond Scot, who wrote nonsense,' because people had bought 10,000 copies of his History, while the Divine Legation began to lye heavy on the shelves

of his bookseller. It may be worth while, however, to see how this orthodox prelate speaks of the church and of churchmen. The following short passage will give the reader some light upon the subject; and also serve to exemplify the bombastic adulation which the reverend correspondents interchanged with each other, and the coarse but robust wit by which Warburton was distinguished.

You were made for higher things: and my greatest pleasure is, that you give me a hint you are impatient to pursue them. What will not such a capacity and such a pen do, either to shame or to improve a miserable age! The Church, like the Ark of Noah, is worth saving; not for the sake of the unclean beasts and vermin that almost filled it, and probably made most noise and clamour in it, but for the little corner of rationality, that was as much distressed by the stink within, as by the tempest without. ' p. 83, 84.

In another place, he says, I am serious upon it. I am afraid that both you and I shall outlive common sense, as well as learning, in our reverend brotherhood;' and afterwards complains, that he has laboured all his life to support the cause of the clergy, and been repaid with nothing but ingratitude. In the close of another letter on the same subject, he says, with a presumption, which the event has already made half ridiculous, and half melancholy, Are not you and I finely employed?-but, Serimus arbores alteri que seculo prosunt.

But these are only general expressions, arising, perhaps, from spleen or casual irritation. Let us inquire how he speaks of individuals. It would be enough, perhaps, to say, that except a Dr Balguy, we do not remember of his saying any thing respectful of a single clergyman throughout the whole volume. The following is a pretty good specimen of the treatment which was reserved for such of his brethren as dared to express their dissent from his paradoxes and fancies.

'What could make that important blockhead (you know whem) preach against me at St James's? He never met me at Court, or at Powis or Newcastle-House. And what was it to him, whether the Jews had a future life? It might be well for such as him, if the Christians had none neither. Nor, I dare say, does he much trouble himself about the matter, while he stands foremost, amongst you, in the new Land of promise; which, however, to the mortification of these modern Jews, is a little distant from that of performance.' P. 65.

Now, this is not said in jest ; but in fierce anger and resentment; and really affords as wonderful a picture of the temper and liberality of a Christian divine, as some of the disputes among the grammarians do of the irritability of a mere man of letters. The contempt, indeed, with which he speaks of his an

swerers

swerers, who were in general learned divines, is equally keen and cutting with that which he evinces towards Hume and Bolingbroke. He himself knew ten thousand faults in his work; but they have never found one of them. Nobody has ever answered him yet, but at their own expense; and some poor man whom he mentions 'must share in the silent contempt with which I treat my answerers.' This is his ordinary style in those playful and affectionate letters. Of known and celebrated individuals, he talks in the same tone of disgusting arrogance and animosity. Dr Lowth, the learned and venerable Bishop of London, had occasion to complain of some misrepresentations in Warburton's writings, relating to the memory of his father; and, after some amicable correspondence, stated the matter to the public in a short and temperate pamphlet. Here is the manner in which he is treated for it in this Episcopal correspondence.

All you say about Louth's pamphlet breathes the purest spirit of friendship. His wit and his reasoning, God knows, and I also (as a certain critic said once in a matter of the like great importance), are much below the qualities that deserve those names. But the strangest thing of all, is this man's boldness in publishing my letters without my leave or knowledge. I remember, several long letters passed between us. And I remember you saw the letters. But I have so totally forgot the contents, that I am at a loss for the meaning of these words.

In a word, you are right. If he expected an answer, he will cer tainly find himself disappointed: though I believe I could make as good sport with this Devil of a vice for the public diversion, as ever was made with him, in the old Moralities.

p. 273, 274.

Among the many able men who thought themselves called upon to expose his errors and fantasies, two of the most distinguished were Jortin and Leland. Dr Jortin had objected to Warburton's theory of the Sixth Eneid; and Dr Leland to his notion of the Eloquence of the Evangelists; and both with great respect and moderation, Warburton would not, or could not answer;-but his faithful esquire was at hand; and two anonymous pamphlets, from the pen of Dr Richard Hurd, were sent forth, to extol Warburton, and his paradoxes, beyond the level of a mortal; to accuse Jortin of envy, and to convict Leland of ignorance and error. Leland answered for himself; and, in the opinion of all the world, completely demolished his antagonist. Jortin contented himself with laughing at the elaborate irony of the Bishop's anonymous champion, and with wondering at his talent for perversion. Hurd never owned either of these malignant pamphlets ;-and in the life of his friend, no notice whatever was taken of this inglorious controversy. What would have been better forgotten, however, for their joint reputation, is injudiciously