judiciously brought back to notice in the volume now before us; -and Warburton is proved by his letters to have entered fully into all the paltry keenness of his correspondent, and to have indulged a feeling of the most rancorous hostility towards both these excellent and accomplished men. In one of his letters he says, I will not tell you how much I am obliged to you for this correction of Leland. I have desired Col. Harvey to get it reprinted in Dublin, which I think but a proper return for Leland's favour in London.' We hear nothing more, however, on this subject, after the publication of Dr Leland's reply.

With regard to Jortin, again, he says, Next to the pleasure ⚫ of seeing myself so finely praised, is the satisfaction I take in 'seeing Jortin mortified. I know to what degree it will do it; and he deserves to be mortified. One thing I in good earnest resented for its baseness,' &c. In another place, he talks of his mean, low, and ungrateful conduct;' and adds, Jortin is as vain as he is dirty, to imagine that I am obliged to him,' &c. And, after a good deal more about his mean, low envy, the rancour of his heart,' his self-importance,' and other good qualities, he speaks in this way of his death

I see by the papers that Jortin is dead. His overrating his abilities, and the public's underrating them, made so gloomy a temper eat, as the antients expressed it, his own heart. If his death distresses his own family, I shall be heartily sorry for this accident of mortality. If not, there is no loss-even to himself.

p. 340.

That the reader may judge how far controversial rancour has here distorted the features of an adversary, we add part of an admirable character of Dr Jortin, drawn by one who had good occasion to know him, as it appeared in a work in which keenness, candour and erudition are very singularly blended. He had a heart which never disgraced the powers of his understanding. With a lively imagination and an elegant taste, he united the artless and amiable negligence of a schoolboy. Wit without ill nature, and sense without effort, he could, at will, scatter on every subject; and, in every book, the writer presents us with a near and distinct view of the man. He had too much discernment to confound difference of opinion with malignity or ' dulness; and too much candour to insult, where he could not persuade. He carried with him into every subject which he explored, a solid greatness of soul, which could spare an inferior, though in the offensive form of an adversary, and endure an equal with or without the sacred name of a friend. ' *

6

Dr Middleton too, had happened to differ from some of War

burton's

* See Preface to Two Tracts by a Warburtonian. p. 194,

burton's opinions on the origin of Popish ceremonies; and accordingly he is very charitably represented as having renounced his religion in a pet on account of the discourtesy of his brethren in the church. It is on an occasion no less serious and touching, than the immediate prospect of this learned man's death, who had once been his friend, that he gives vent to this liberal imputation.

• Had he had, I will not say piety, but greatness of mind enough not to suffer the pretended injuries of some churchmen to prejudice him against religion, I should love him living, and honour his memory when dead. But, good God! that man, for the discourtesies done him by his miserable fellow creatures, should be content to dibest himself of the true viaticum, the comfort, the solace, the asylum, &c. &c. is perfectly astonishing. I believe no one (all things considered) has suffered more from the low and vile passions of the high and low amongst our brethren than myself. Yet, God forbid,' &c. p. 40, 41.

When divines of the church of England are spoken of in this manner, it may be supposed that dissenters and laymen do not meet with any better treatment. Priestley, accordingly, is called ' a wretched fellow;' and Dr Samuel Johnson, who, in spite of considerable temptations to the contrary, had spoken with great respect of him, both in his preface to Shakespeare and in his notes, is thus rewarded by the meek and modest ecclesiastic for his forbearance.

The remarks he makes in every page on my commentaries, are full of insolence and malignant reflections, which, had they not in them as much folly as malignity, I should have had reason to be offended with. As it is, I think myself obliged to him in thus setting before the public so many of my notes with his remarks upon them; for, though I have no great opinion of that trifling part of the public, which pretends to judge of this part of literature, in which boys and girls decide, yet I think nobody can be mistaken in this comparison; though I think their thoughts have never yet extended thus far as to reflect, that to discover the corruption in an author's text, and by a happy sagacity to restore it to sense, is no easy task: but when the discovery is made, then to cavil at the conjecture, to propose an equivalent, and defend nonsense, by producing, out of the thick darkness it occasions, a weak and faint glimmering of sense (which has been the business of this Editor throughout) is the easiest, as well as dullest of all literary efforts.' p. 272, 273.

It is irksome tranfcribing more of these infolent and vindictive perfonalities; and we believe we have already extracted enough, to fatisfy our readers as to the probable effect of this publication, în giving the world a juft impreffion of the amiable, playful, and affectionate character of this learned prelate. It is fcarcely neceffary, for this purpose, to refer to any of his pathetic lamentations

over his own age, as a • barbarous age,' an < impious age,' and " a dark age, to quote his murmurs at the ingratitude with which his own labours had been rewarded, or, indeed, to do more than transcribe his fage and magnanimous refolution, in the year 1768,

to begin to live for himself, having already lived for others longer than they had deferved of him.' This worthy and philanthropic perfon had by this time preached and written himself into a bishopric and a fine estate, and, at the fame time, indulged himfelf in every fort of violence and fcurrility against those from whofe opinions he diffented. In thefe circumstances, we really are not aware either how he could have lived more for himself, or lefs for others, than he had been all along doing. But we leave now the painful tafk of commenting upon this book, as a memorial of his character; and gladly turn to thofe parts of it, from which our readers may derive more unmingled amufement.

The wit which it contains is generally ftrong and coarfe, with a certain mixture of profanity which does not always feem to confort well with the episcopal character. There are some allufions to the Lady of Babylon, which we dare not quote in our Prefbyterian pages. The reader, however, may take the following.

Poor Job! It was his eternal fate to be persecuted by his friends. His three comforters passed sentence of condemnation upon him ; and he has been executing in effigie ever since. He was first bound to the stake by a long catena of Greek Fathers; then tortured by Pineda; then strangled by Caryl; and afterwards cut up by Westley, and anatomized by Garnet. Pray don't reckon me amongst his hangmen. I only acted the tender part of his wife, and was for making short work with him. But he was ordained, I think, by a fate like that of Prometheus, to lye still upon his dunghill, and have his brains sucked out by owls. One Hodges, a head of Oxford, now threatens us with a new Auto de fè.' P. 22.

We have already quoted one affimilation of the Church to the Ark of Noah. This idea is purfued in the following paffage, which is perfectly characteristic of the force, the vulgarity, and the mannerifm of Warburton's writing.

You mention Noah's Ark. I have really forgot what I said of it. But I suppose I compared the Church to it, as many a grave divine has done before me.- -The rabbins make the giant Gog or Magog contemporary with Noah, and convinced by his preaching; so that he was disposed to take the benefit of the ark. But here lay the distress it by no means suited his dimensions. Therefore, as he could not enter in, he contented himself to ride upon it astride. And though you must suppose that, in that stormy weather, he was more than half-boots over, he kept his seat and dismounted safely, when the ark landed on mount Ararat. Image now to yourself this illustrious Cavalier mounted on his hackney: and see if it does not VOL. XIII. No. 26.

A a

bring

bring before you the Church, bestrid by some lumpish minister of state, who turns and winds it at his pleasure. The only difference is, that Gog believed the preacher of righteousness and religion. ' p. 87, 88.

use.

The following is in a broader and more ambitious style,—yet ftill peculiar and forcible. After recommending a tour round St James's Park, as far more inftructive than the grand tour, he proceedsThis is enough for any one who only wants to study men for his But if our aspiring friend would go higher, and study human nature, in and for itself, he must take a much larger tour than that of Europe. He must first go and catch her undressed, nay, quite naked, in North America, and at the Cape of Good Hope. He may then examine how she appears crampt, contracted, and buttoned close up in the strait tunic of law and custom, as in China and Japan; or spread out, and enlarged above her common size, in the long and flowing robe of enthusiasm, amongst the Arabs and Saracens; or, lastly, as she flutters in the old rags of worn-out policy and civil government, and almost ready to run back, naked, to the deserts, as on the Mediterranean coast of Africa. These, tell him, are the grand scenes for the true philosopher, for the citizen of the world, to contemplate. The tour of Europe is like the entertainment that Plutarch speaks of, which Pompey's host of Epirus gave him. There were many dishes, and they had a seeming variety; but when he came to examine them narrowly, he found them all made out of one hog, and indeed nothing but pork differently disguised.

• Indeed I perfectly agree with you, that a scholar by profession, who knows how to employ his time in his study, for the benefit of mankind, would be more than fantastical, he would be mad, to go rambling round Europe, though his fortune would permit him. For to travel with profit, must be when his faculties are at the height, his studies matured, and all his reading fresh in his head. But to waste a considerable space of time, at such a period of life, is worse than suicide. Yet, for all this, the knowledge of human nature (the only knowledge, in the largest sense of it, worth a wise man's concern or care), can never be well acquired without seeing it under all its disguises and distortions, arising from absurd governments and monstrous religions, in every quarter of the globe. Therefore, I think a collection of the best voyagers no despicable part of a philosopher's library. Perhaps there will be found more dross in this sort of literature, even when selected most carefully, than in any other. But no matter for that; such a collection will contain a great and solid treasure.' p. 111, 112,

Thefe, we think, are favourable fpecimens of wit, and of power of writing. The bad jokes, however, rather preponderate. There is one brought in, with much formality, about his fufpicions of the dunces having ftolen the lead off the roof of his coachhoufe; and

two

two or three abfurd little anecdotes, which feem to have no pretenfions to pleafantry-but that they are narratives, and have no ferious meaning. The following might be adapted to the taste of the city; but, to us, at this distance, it appears wonderfully filly.

I preached my Propagation sermon; and ten or a dozen Bishops dined with my Lord Mayor, a plain and (for this year at least) a munificent man. Whether I made them wiser than ordinary at Bow I can't tell I certainly made them merrier than ordinary at the Mansion-House, where we were magnificently treated. The Lord Mayor told me, the Common Council were much obliged to me, for that this was the first time he ever heard them prayed for. I said, I considered them as a body who much needed the prayers of the Church. But if he told me in what I abounded, I told him in what I thought he was defective, that I was greatly disappointed to see no custard at table. He said, that they had been so ridiculed for their custard, that none had ventured to make its appearance for many years. told him, I supposed that religion and custard went out of fashion together. p. 276, 277.

I

The next is from the court; but it appears to us as poor as its city neighbour.

I brought, as usual, a bad cold with me to town; and this being the first day I ventured out of doors, it was employed, as in duty bound, at court, it being a levee day. A buffoon Lord in waiting (you may guess whom I mean) was very busy marshalling the circle; and he said to me, without ceremony, "Move forward, you. clog up the door-way." I replied, with as little, Did nobody clog up the King's door-stead more than I, there would be room for all honest men. This brought the man to himself.-When the King came up to me, he asked why I did not come to town before? I said, I understood there was no business going forward in the House, in which I could be of service to his Majesty. He replied, he supposed the severe storm of snow would have brought me up. I replied, I was under cover of a very warm house.-You see, by all this, how unfit I am for courts. P. 291.

To pass from wit, however, to more ferious matters, we find, in this volume, fome very ftriking proofs of the extent and diligence of this author's mifcellaneous reading, particularly in the lifts and characters of the authors to whom he refers his friend as authorities for a hiftory of the English conftitution. In this part of his dialogues, indeed, it appears that Hurd has derived the whole of his learning, and most of his opinions, from WarburThe following remarks on the continuation of Clarendon's History are good and liberal.

ton.

• Besides that business and age and misfortunes had perhaps sunk his spirit, the Continuation is not so properly the history of the first six years of Charles the Second, as an anxious apology for the share himself had in the administration. This has hurt the composition