The materials for a “Life of Warburton” have been arranged by Mr. Nichols with his accustomed fidelity.—See his Literary Anecdotes.
It is probable I may have drawn my meteor from our volcanic author himself, who had his lucid moments, even in the deliriums of his imagination. Warburton has rightly observed, in his “Divine Legation,” p. 203, that “Systems, Schemes, and Hypotheses, all bred of heat, in the warm regions of Controversy, like meteors in a troubled sky, have each its turn to blaze and fly away.”
It seems, even by the confession of a Warburtonian, that his master was of “a human size;” for when Bishop Lowth rallies the Warburtonians for their subserviency and credulity to their master, he aimed a gentle stroke at Dr. Brown, who, in his “Essays on the Characteristics,” had poured forth the most vehement panegyric. In his “Estimate of Manners of the Times,” too, after a long tirade of their badness in regard to taste and learning, he thus again eulogizes his mighty master:—“Himself is abused, and his friends insulted for his sake, by those who never read his writings; or, if they did, could neither taste nor comprehend them; while every little aspiring or despairing scribbler eyes him as Cassius did Cæsar: and whispers to his fellow—
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‘Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world |
No wonder, then, if the malice of the Lilliputian tribe be bent against this dreaded Gulliver; if they attack him with poisoned arrows, whom they cannot subdue by strength.”
On this Lowth observes, that “this Lord Paramount in his pretensions doth bestride the narrow world of literature, and has cast out his shoe over all the regions of science.” This leads to a ludicrous comparison of Warburton, with King Pichrochole and his three ministers, who, in Urquhart’s admirable version of the French wit, are Count Merdaille, the Duke of Smalltrash, and the Earl Swashbuckler, who set up for universal monarchy, and made an imaginary expedition through all the quarters of the world, as Rabelais records, and the bishop facetiously quotes. Dr. Brown afterwards seemed to repent his panegyric, and contrives to make his gigantic hero shrink into a moderate size. “I believe still, every little aspiring fellow continues thus to eye him. For myself, I have ever considered him as a man, yet considerable among his species, as the following part of the paragraph clearly demonstrates. I speak of him here as a Gulliver indeed; yet still of no more than human size, and only apprehended to be of colossal magnitude by certain of his Lilliputian enemies.” Thus subtilely would poor Dr. Brown save appearances! It must be confessed that, in a dilemma, never was a giant got rid of so easily!—The plain truth, however, was, that Brown was then on the point of quarrelling with Warburton; for he laments, in a letter to a friend, that “he had not avoided all personal panegyric. I had thus saved myself the trouble of setting right a character which I far over-painted.” A part of this letter is quoted in the “Biographia Britannica.”
“Tracts by Warburton and a Warburtonian, not admitted into the collections of their respective works,” itself a collection which our shelves could ill spare, though maliciously republished by Dr. Parr. The dedication by Parr stands unparalleled for comparative criticism. It is the eruption of a volcano; it sparkles, it blazes, and scatters light and destruction. How deeply ought we to regret that this Nazarite suffered his strength to be shorn by the Delilahs of spurious fame. Never did this man, with his gifted strength, grasp the pillars of a temple, to shake its atoms over Philistines; but pleased the childlike simplicity of his mind by pulling down houses over the heads of their unlucky inhabitants. He consumed, in local and personal literary quarrels, a genius which might have made the next age his own. With all the stores of erudition, and all the eloquence of genius, he mortified a country parson for his politics, and a London accoucheur for certain obstetrical labours performed on Horace; and now his collected writings lie before us, volumes unsaleable and unread. His insatiate vanity was so little delicate, as often to snatch its sweetmeat from a foul plate; it now appears, by the secret revelations in Griffith’s own copy of his “Monthly Review,” that the writer of a very elaborate article on the works of Dr. Parr, was no less a personage than the Doctor himself. His egotism was so declamatory, that it unnaturalized a great mind, by the distortions of Johnsonian mimicry; his fierceness, which was pushed on to brutality on the unresisting, retreated with a child’s terrors when resisted; and the pomp of petty pride in table triumphs and evening circles, ill compensated for the lost century he might have made his own!
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Lord o’er the greatest, to the least a slave, |
The “Quarterly Review,” vol. vii. p. 383.—So masterly a piece of criticism has rarely surprised the public in the leaves of a periodical publication. It comes, indeed, with the feelings of another age, and the reminiscences of the old and vigorous school. I cannot implicitly adopt all the sentiments of the critic, but it exhibits a highly-finished portrait, enamelled by the love of the artist.—This article was written by the late Dr. Whitaker, the historian of Craven, &c.
When Warburton, sore at having been refused academical honours at Oxford, which were offered to Pope, then his fellow-traveller, and who, in consequence of this refusal, did himself not accept them—in his controversy with Lowth (then the Oxford Professor), gave way to his angry spirit, and struck at the University itself, for its political jesuitism, being a place where men “were taught to distinguish between de facto and de jure,” caustic was the retort. Lowth, by singular felicity of application, touched on Warburton’s original designation, in a character he hit on in Clarendon. After remonstrating with spirit and dignity on this petulant attack, which was not merely personal, Lowth continues:—“Had I not your lordship’s example to justify me, I should think it a piece of extreme impertinence to inquire where YOU were bred; though one might justly plead, in excuse for it, a natural curiosity to know where and how such a phenomenon was produced. It is commonly said that your lordship’s education was of that particular kind, concerning which it is a remark of that great judge of men and manners, Lord Clarendon (on whom you have, therefore, with a wonderful happiness of allusion, justness of application, and elegance of expression, conferred ‘the unrivalled title of the Chancellor of Human Nature’), that it peculiarly disposes men to be proud, insolent, and pragmatical.” Lowth, in a note, inserts Clarendon’s character of Colonel Harrison: “He had been bred up in the place of a clerk, under a lawyer of good account in those parts; which kind of education introduces men into the language and practice of business; and if it be not resisted by the great ingenuity of the person, inclines young men to more pride than any other kind of breeding, and disposes them to be pragmatical and insolent.” “Now, my lord (Lowth continues), as you have in your whole behaviour, and in all your writings, remarkably distinguished yourself by your humility, lenity, meekness, forbearance, candour, humanity, civility, decency, good manners, good temper, moderation with regard to the opinions of others, and a modest diffidence of your own, this unpromising circumstance of your education is so far from being a disgrace to you, that it highly redounds to your praise.”—Lowth’s Letter to the Author of the D. L. p. 63.
Was ever weapon more polished and keen? This Attic style of controversy finely contrasts with the tasteless and fierce invective of the Warburtonians, although one of them is well known to have managed too adroitly the cutting instrument of irony; but the frigid malignancy of Hurd diminishes the pleasure we might find in his skill. Warburton ill concealed his vexation in the contempt he vented in a letter to Hurd on this occasion. “All you say about Lowth’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.”—He writes too of “this man’s boldness in publishing his letters.”—“If he expects an answer, he will certainly 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.”—But Warburton did reply! Had he ever possessed one feeling of taste, never would he have figured the elegant Lowth as this grotesque personage. He was, however, at that moment sharply stung!
This circumstance of Attorneyship was not passed over in Mallet’s “Familiar Epistle to the Most Impudent Man Living.” Comparing, in the Spirit of “familiarity,” Arnall, an impudent scribbling attorney and political scribe, with Warburton, he says, “You have been an attorney as well as he, but a little more impudent than he was; for Arnall never presumed to conceal his turpitude under the gown and the scarf.” But this is mere invective!
I have given a tempered opinion of his motive for this sudden conversion from Attorneyship to Divinity; for it must not be concealed, in our inquiry into Warburton’s character, that he has frequently been accused of a more worldly one. He was so fierce an advocate for some important causes he undertook, that his sincerity has been liable to suspicion; the pleader, in some points, certainly acting the part of a sophist. Were we to decide by the early appearances of his conduct, by the rapid change of his profession, by his obsequious servility to his country squire, and by what have been termed the hazardous “fooleries in criticism, and outrages in controversy,” which he systematically pursued, he looks like one not in earnest; and more zealous to maintain the character of his own genius, than the cause he had espoused. Leland once exclaimed, “What are we to think of the writer and his intentions? Is he really sincere in his reasonings?” Certain it is, his paradoxes often alarmed his friends, to repeat the words of a great critic, by “the absurdity of his criticism, the heterodoxy of his tenets, and the brutality of his invectives.” Our Juvenal, who, whatever might be the vehemence of his declamation, reflected always those opinions which floated about him, has drawn a full-length figure. He accounts for Warburton’s early motive in taking the cassock, as being
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“——————thereto drawn Churchill’s “Duellist.” |
I would not insinuate that Warburton is to be ranked among the class he so loudly denounced, that of “Free-thinkers;” his mind, warm with imagination, seemed often tinged with credulity. But from his want of sober-mindedness, we cannot always prove his earnestness in the cause he advocated. He often sports with his fancies; he breaks out into the most familiar levity; and maintains, too broadly, subtile and refined principles, which evince more of the political than the primitive Christian. It is certain his infidelity was greatly suspected; and Hurd, to pass over the stigma of Warburton’s sudden conversion to the Church, insinuates that “an early seriousness of mind determined him to the ecclesiastical profession.”—“It may be so,” says the critic in the “Quarterly Review,” no languid admirer of this great man; “but the symptoms of that seriousness were very equivocal afterwards; and the certainty of an early provision, from a generous patron in the country, may perhaps be considered by those who are disposed to assign human conduct to ordinary motives, as quite adequate to the effect.”
Dr. Parr is indignant at such surmises; but the feeling is more honourable than the decision! In an admirable character of Warburton in the “Westminster Magazine” for 1779, it is acknowledged, “at his outset in life he was suspected of being inclined to infidelity; and it was not till many years had elapsed, that the orthodoxy of his opinions was generally assented to.” On this Dr. Parr observes, “Why Dr. Warburton was ever suspected of secret infidelity I know not. What he was inclined to think on subjects of religion, before, perhaps, he had leisure or ability to examine them, depends only upon obscure surmise, or vague report.” The words inclined to think seems a periphrase for secret infidelity. Our critic attributes these reports to “an English dunce, whose blunders and calumnies are now happily forgotten, and repeated by a French buffoon, whose morality is not commensurate with his wit.”—Tracts by Warburton, &c., p. 186.
“The English Dunce” I do not recollect; of this sort there are so many! Voltaire is “the French buffoon;” who, indeed, compares Warburton in his bishopric, to Peachum in the Beggar’s Opera—who, as Keeper of Newgate, was for hanging all his old accomplices!
Warburton was far more extravagant in a later attempt which he made to expound the odd visions of a crack-brained Welshman, a prophesying knave; a knave by his own confession, and a prophet by Warburton’s. This commentary, inserted in Jortin’s “Remarks on Ecclesiastical History,” considerably injured the reputation of Jortin. The story of Warburton and his Welsh Prophet would of itself be sufficient to detect the shiftings and artifices of his genius. Rice or Arise Evans! was one of the many prophets who rose up in Oliver’s fanatical days; and Warburton had the hardihood to insert, in Jortin’s learned work, a strange commentary to prove that Arise Evans, in Cromwell’s time, in his “Echo from Heaven,” had manifestly prophesied the Hanoverian Succession! The Welshman was a knave by his own account in subscribing with his right hand the confession he calls his prophecy, before a justice, and with his left, that which was his recantation, signed before the recorder, adding, “I know the bench and the people thought I recanted; but, alas! they were deceived;” and this Warburton calls “an uncommon fetch of wit,” to save the truth of the prophecy, though not the honour of the prophet. If Evans meant anything, he meant what was then floating in all men’s minds, the probable restoration of the Stuarts. By this prelude of that inventive genius which afterwards commented, in the same spirit, on the Æneid of Virgil, and the “Divine Legation, itself,” and made the same sort of discoveries, he fixed himself in this dilemma: either Warburton was a greater impostor than Arise Evans, or he was more credulous than even any follower of the Welsh prophet, if he really had any. But the truth is, that Warburton was always writing for a present purpose, and believed, and did not believe, as it happened. “Ordinary men believe one side of a contradiction at a time, whereas his lordship” (says his admirable antagonist) “frequently believes, or at least defends both. So that it would have been no great wonder if he should maintain that Evans was both a real prophet and an impostor.” Yet this is not the only awkward attitude into which Warburton has here thrown himself. To strain the vision of the raving Welshman to events of which he could have no notion, Warburton has plunged into the most ludicrous difficulties, all which ended, as all his discoveries have done, in making the fortune of an adversary who, like the Momus of Homer, has raised through the skies “inextinguishable laughter,” in the amusing tract of “Confusion worse Confounded, Rout on Rout, or the Bishop of G——’s Commentary on Arise Evans; by Indignatio,” 1772. The writer was the learned Henry Taylor, the author of Ben Mordecai’s Apology.
The correct taste of Lowth with some humour describes the last sentence of the “Enquiry on Prodigies” as “the Musa Pedestris got on horseback in a high prancing style.” He printed it in measured lines, without, however, changing the place of a single word, and it produced blank verse. Thus it reads—
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“Methinks I see her like the mighty Eagle |
Such a glowing metaphor, in the uncouth prose of Warburton, startled Lowth’s classical ear. It was indeed “the Musa Pedestris who had got on horseback in a high prancing style;” for as it has since been pointed out, it is a well-known passage towards the close of the Areopagitica of Milton, whose prose is so often purely poetical. See Birch’s Edition of Milton’s Prose Works, I. 158. Warburton was familiarly conversant with our great vernacular writers at a time when their names generally were better known than their works, and when it was considered safe to pillage their most glorious passages. Warburton has been convicted of snatching their purple patches, and sewing them into his coarser web, without any acknowledgment; he did this in the present remarkable instance, and at a later day, in the preface to his “Julian,” he laid violent hands on one of Raleigh’s splendid metaphors.
When Warburton was considered as a Colossus of literature, Ralph, the political writer, pointed a severe allusion to the awkward figure he makes in these Dedications. “The Colossus himself creeps between the legs of the late Sir Robert Sutton; in what posture, or for what purpose, need not be explained.”
Churchill has not passed by unnoticed Warburton’s humility, even to weakness, combined with pride which could rise to haughtiness.
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“He was so proud, that should he meet |
Yet this man
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——“Fawned through all his life The Duellist. |
It is certain that the proud and supercilious Warburton long crouched and fawned. Mallet, at least, well knew all that passed between Warburton and Pope. In the “Familiar Epistle” he asserts that Warburton was introduced to Pope by his “nauseous flattery.” A remarkable instance, besides the dedications we have noticed, occurred in his correspondence with Sir Thomas Hanmer. He did not venture to attack “The Oxford Editor,” as he sarcastically distinguishes him, without first demanding back his letters, which were immediately returned, from Sir Thomas’s high sense of honour. Warburton might otherwise have been shown strangely to contradict himself, for in these letters he had been most lavish of his flatteries and encomiums on the man whom he covered with ridicule in the preface to his Shakspeare. See “An Answer to certain Passages in Mr. W.’s Preface to Shakspeare,” 1748.
His dedication to the plain unlettered Ralph Allen of Bath, his greatest of patrons, of his “Commentary on Pope’s Essay on Man,” is written in the same spirit as those to Sir Robert Sutton; but the former unlucky gentleman was more publicly exposed by it. The subject of this dedication turns on “the growth and progress of Fate, divided into four principal branches!” There is an episode about Free-will and Nature and Grace, and “a contrivance of Leibnitz about Fatalism.” Ralph Allen was a good Quaker-like man, but he must have lost his temper if he ever read the dedication! Let us not, however, imagine that Warburton was at all insensible to this violation of literary decorum; he only sacrificed propriety to what he considered a more urgent principle—his own personal interest. No one had a juster conception of the true nature of dedications; for he says in the famous one “to the Free-thinkers:”—“I could never approve the custom of dedicating books to men whose professions made them strangers to the subject. A Discourse on the Ten Predicaments to a Leader of Armies, or a System of Casuistry to a Minister of State, always appeared to me a high absurdity.”
All human characters are mixed—true! yet still we feel indignant to discover some of the greatest often combining the most opposite qualities; and then they are not so much mixed as the parts are naturally joined together. Could one imagine that so lofty a character as Warburton could have been liable to have incurred even the random stroke of the satirist? whether true or false, the events of his life, better known at this day than in his own, will show. Churchill says that
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“He could cringe and creep, be civil, |
The author of the “Canons of Criticism,” with all his sprightly sarcasm, gives a history of Warburton’s later Dedications. “The first edition of ‘The Alliance’ came out without a dedication, but was presented to the bishops; and when nothing came of that, the second was addressed to both the Universities; and when nothing came of that, the third was dedicated to a noble Earl, and nothing has yet come of that.” Appendix to “Canons of Criticism,” seventh edit. 261.
The palace here alluded to is fully described in a volume of “Travels through Sicily and Malta,” by P. Brydone, F.R.S., in 1770. He describes it as belonging to “the Prince of Palermo, a man of immense fortune, who has devoted his whole life to the study of monsters and chimeras, greater and more ridiculous than ever entered into the imagination of the wildest writers of romance and knight-errantry.” He tells us this palace was surrounded by an army of statues, “not one made to represent any object in nature. He has put the heads of men to the bodies of every sort of animal, and the heads of every other animal to the bodies of men. Sometimes he makes a compound of five or six animals that have no sort of resemblance in nature. He puts the head of a lion on the neck of a goose, the body of a lizard, the legs of a goat, the tail of a fox; on the back of this monster he puts another, if possible still more hideous, with five or six heads, and a bush of horns. There is no kind of horn in the world he has not collected, and his pleasure is to see them all flourishing upon the same head.” The interior of the house was decorated in the same monstrous style, and the description, unique of its kind, occupies several pages of Mr. Brydone’s book.—Ed.
This letter was written in 1726, and first found by Dr. Knight in 1750, in fitting up a house where Concanen had probably lodged. It was suppressed, till Akenside, in 1766, printed it in a sixpenny pamphlet, entitled “An Ode to Mr. Edwards.” He preserved the curiosity, with “all its peculiarities of grammar, spelling, and punctuation.” The insulted poet took a deep revenge for the contemptuous treatment he had received from the modern Stagirite. The “peculiarities” betray most evident marks of the self-taught lawyer; the orthography and the double letters were minted in the office. [Thus he speaks of Addison as this “exact Mr. of propriety,” and of his own studies of the English poets “to trace them to their sources; and observe what oar, as well as what slime and gravel they brought down with them.”] When I looked for the letter in Akenside’s Works, I discovered that it had been silently dropped. Some interest, doubtless, had been made to suppress it, for Warburton was humbled when reminded of it. Malone, fortunately, has preserved it in his Shakspeare, where it may be found, in a place not likely to be looked into for it, at the close of Julius Cæsar: this literary curiosity had otherwise been lost for posterity; its whole history is a series of wonderful escapes.
By this document we became acquainted with the astonishing fact, that Warburton, early in life, was himself one of those very dunces whom he has so unmercifully registered in their Doomsday-book; one who admired the genius of his brothers, and spoke of Pope with the utmost contempt! [Thus he says, “Dryden, I observe, borrows for want of leisure, and Pope for want of genius!”]
Lee introduces Alexander the Great, saying,
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“When Glory, like the dazzling eagle, stood |
In the province of taste Warburton was always at sea without chart or compass, and was as unlucky in his panegyric on Milton as on Lee. He calls the “Paradise Regained” “a charming poem, nothing inferior in the poetry and the sentiments to the Paradise Lost.” Such extravagance could only have proceeded from a critic too little sensible to the essential requisites of poetry itself.
Such opposite studies shot themselves into the most fantastical forms in his rocket-writings, whether they streamed in “The Divine Legation,” or sparkled in “The Origin of Romances,” or played about in giving double senses to Virgil, Pope, and Shakspeare. Churchill, with a good deal of ill-nature and some truth, describes them:—
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“A curate first, he read and read, |
The opinion of Bentley, when he saw “The Divine Legation,” was a sensible one. “This man,” said he, “has a monstrous appetite, with a very bad digestion.”
The Warburtonians seemed to consider his great work, as the Bible by which all literary men were to be sworn. Lowth ridicules their credulity. “‘The Divine Legation,’ it seems, contains in it all knowledge, divine and human, ancient and modern: it is a perfect Encyclopædia, including all history, criticism, divinity, law, politics, from the law of Moses down to the Jew bill, and from Egyptian hieroglyphics to modern Rebus-writing, &c.”
“In the 2014 pages of the unfinished ‘Divine Legation,’” observes the sarcastic Gibbon, “four hundred authors are quoted, from St. Austin down to Scarron and Rabelais!”
Yet, after all that satire and wit have denounced, listen to an enlightened votary of Warburton. He asserts that “The ‘Divine Legation’ has taken its place at the head, not to say of English theology, but almost of English literature. To the composition of this prodigious performance, Hooker and Stillingfleet could have contributed the erudition, Chillingworth and Locke the acuteness, Taylor an imagination even more wild and copious, Swift, and perhaps, Eachard, the sarcastic vein of wit; but what power of understanding, except Warburton’s, could first have amassed all these materials, and then compacted them into a bulky and elaborate work, so consistent and harmonious.”—Quarterly Review. vol. vii.
“The Divine Legation of Moses Demonstrated,” vol. i. sec. iv. Observe the remarkable expression, “that last foible of superior genius.” He had evidently running in his mind Milton’s line on Fame—
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“That last infirmity of noble minds.” |
In such an exalted state was Warburton’s mind when he was writing this, his own character.
The author of “The Canons of Criticism” addressed a severe sonnet to Warburton; and alludes to the “Alliance”:—
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“Reign he sole king in paradoxal land, |
On which he adds this note, humorously stating the grand position of the work:—“The whole argument by which the alliance between Church and State is established, Mr. Warburton founds upon this supposition—‘That people, considering themselves in a religious capacity, may contract with themselves, considered in a civil capacity.’ The conceit is ingenious, but is not his own. Scrub, in the Beaux Stratagem, had found it out long ago: he considers himself as acting the different parts of all the servants in the family; and so Scrub, the coachman, ploughman, or justice’s clerk, might contract with Scrub, the butler, for such a quantity of ale as the other assumed character demanded.”—Appendix, p. 261.
See article Hobbes, for his system. The great Selden was an Erastian; a distinction extremely obscure. Erastus was a Swiss physician of little note, who was for restraining the ecclesiastical power from all temporal jurisdiction. Selden did him the honour of adopting his principles. Selden wrote against the divine right of tithes, but allowed the legal right, which gave at first great offence to the clergy, who afterwards perceived the propriety of his argument, as Wotton has fully acknowledged.
It does not always enter into the design of these volumes to examine those great works which produced literary quarrels. But some may be glad to find here a word on this original project.
The grand position of the Divine Legation is, that the knowledge of the immortality of the soul, or a future state of reward and punishment, is absolutely necessary in the moral government of the universe. The author shows how it has been inculcated by all good legislators, so that no religion could ever exist without it; but the Jewish could, from its peculiar government, which was theocracy—a government where the presence of God himself was perpetually manifested by miracles and new ordinances: and hence temporal rewards and punishments were sufficient for that people, to whom the unity and power of the Godhead were never doubtful. As he proceeded, he would have opened a new argument, viz., that the Jewish religion was only the part of a revelation, showing the necessity of a further one for its completion, which produced Christianity.
When Warburton was in good spirits with his great work (for he was not always so), he wrote thus to a friend:—“You judge right, that the next volume of the D. L. will not be the last. I thought I had told you that I had divided the work into three parts: the first gives you a view of Paganism; the second, of Judaism; and the third, of Christianity. You will wonder how this last inquiry can come into so simple an argument as that which I undertake to enforce. I have not room to tell you more than this—that after I have proved a future state not to be, in fact in the Mosaic dispensation, I next show that, if Christianity be true, it could not possibly be there; and this necessitates me to explain the nature of Christianity, with which the whole ends. But this inter nos. If it be known, I should possibly have somebody writing against this part too before it appears.”—Nichols’s “Literary Anecdotes,” vol. v. p. 551.
Thus he exults in the true tone, and with all the levity of a sophist. It is well that a true feeling of religion does not depend on the quirks and quibbles of human reasonings, or, what are as fallible, on masses of fanciful erudition.
Warburton lost himself in the labyrinth he had so ingeniously constructed. This work harassed his days and exhausted his intellect. Observe the tortures of a mind, even of so great a mind as that of Warburton’s, when it sacrifices all to the perishable vanity of sudden celebrity. Often he flew from his task in utter exhaustion and despair. He had quitted the smooth and even line of truth, to wind about and split himself on all the crookedness of paradoxes. He paints his feelings in a letter to Birch. He says—“I was so disgusted with an old subject, that I had deferred it from month to month and year to year.” He had recourse to “an expedient;” which was, “to set the press on work, and so oblige himself to supply copy.” Such is the confession of the author of the “Divine Legation!” this “encyclopædia” of all ancient and modern lore—all to proceed from “a simple argument!” But when he describes his sufferings, hard is the heart of that literary man who cannot sympathise with such a giant caught in the toils! I give his words:—“Distractions of various kinds, inseparable from human life, joined with a naturally melancholy habit, contribute greatly to increase my indolence. This makes my reading wild and desultory; and I seek refuge from the uneasiness of thought, from any book, let it be what it will. By my manner of writing upon subjects, you would naturally imagine they afford me pleasure, and attach me thoroughly. I will assure you, No!”—Nichols’s “Literary Anecdotes,” vol. v. p. 562.
Warburton had not the cares of a family—they were merely literary ones. The secret cause of his “melancholy,” and his “indolence,” and that “want of attachment and pleasure to his subjects;” which his friends “naturally imagined” afforded him so much, was the controversies he had kindled, and the polemical battles he had raised about him. However boldly he attacked in return, his heart often sickened in privacy; for how often must he have beheld his noble and his whimsical edifices built on sands, which the waters were perpetually eating into!
At the last interview of Warburton with Pope, the dying poet exhorted him to proceed with “The Divine Legation.” “Your reputation,” said he, “as well as your duty, is concerned in it. People say you can get no farther in your proof. Nay, Lord Bolingbroke himself bids me expect no such thing.” This anecdote is rather extraordinary; for it appears in “Owen Ruffhead’s Life of Pope,” p. 497, a work written under the eye of Warburton himself; and in which I think I could point out some strong touches from his own hand on certain important occasions, when he would not trust to the creeping dulness of Ruffhead.
His temerity had raised against him not only infidels, but Christians. If any pious clergyman now wrote in favour of the opinion that God’s people believed in the immortality of the soul—which can we doubt they did? and which Menasseh Ben Israel has written his treatise, “De Resurrectione Mortuorum,” to prove—it was a strange sight to behold a bishop seeming to deny so rational and religious a creed! Even Dr. Balguy confessed to Warburton, that “there was one thing in the argument of the ‘Divine Legation’ that stuck more with candid men than all the rest—how a religion without a future state could be worthy of God!” This Warburton promised to satisfy, by a fresh appendix. His volatile genius, however, was condemned to “the pelting of a merciless storm.” Lowth told him—“You give yourself out as demonstrator of the divine legation of Moses; it has been often demonstrated before; a young student in theology might undertake to give a better—that is, a more satisfactory and irrefragable demonstration of it in five pages than you have done in five volumes.”—Lowth’s “Letter to Warburton,” p. 12.
Hurd was the son of a Staffordshire farmer, and was placed by him at Rugely, from whence he was removed to Emmanuel College, Cambridge. At the age of twenty-six he published a pamphlet entitled “Remarks on a late Book entitled ‘An Inquiry into the Rejection of the Christian Miracles by the Heathens, by William Weston,’” which met with considerable attention. In 1749, on the occasion of publishing a commentary on Horace’s “Ars Poetica,” he complimented Warburton so strongly as to ensure his favour. Warburton returned it by a puff for Hurd in his edition of Pope, and the two became fast friends. It was a profitable connexion to Hurd, for by the intercession of Warburton he was appointed one of the Whitehall preachers, a preacher at Lincoln’s Inn, and Archdeacon of Gloucester. He repaid Warburton by constant praises in print, and so far succeeded with that vain man, that when he read the dedication he made to him of his “Commentary on the Epistle to Augustus,” he wrote to him with mock humility—“I will confess to you how much satisfaction the groundless part of it, that which relates to myself, gave me.” When Dr. Jortin very properly spoke of Warburton with less of subserviency than the overbearing bishop desired, Hurd at once came forward to fight for Warburton in print, in a satirical treatise on “The Delicacy of Friendship,” which highly delighted his patron, who at once wrote to Dr. Lowth, stating him to be “a man of very superior talents, of genius, learning, and virtue; indeed, a principal ornament of the age he lives in.” Hurd was made Bishop of Lichfield in 1775, and of Winchester in 1779. He died in the year 1808.—Ed.
The Attic irony was translated into plain English, in “Remarks on Dr. Warburton’s Account of the Sentiments of the Early Jews,” 1757; and the following rules for all who dissented from Warburton are deduced:—“You must not write on the same subject that he does. You must not glance at his arguments, even without naming him or so much as referring to him. If you find his reasonings ever so faulty, you must not presume to furnish him with better of your own, even though you prove, and are desirous to support his conclusions. When you design him a compliment, you must express it in full form, and with all the circumstance of panegyrical approbation, without impertinently qualifying your civilities by assigning a reason why you think he deserves them, as this might possibly be taken for a hint that you know something of the matter he is writing about as well as himself. You must never call any of his discoveries by the name of conjectures, though you allow them their full proportion of elegance, learning, &c.; for you ought to know that this capital genius never proposed anything to the judgment of the public (though ever so new and uncommon) with diffidence in his life. Thus stands the decree prescribing our demeanour towards this sovereign in the Republic of Letters, as we find it promulged, and bearing date at the palace of Lincoln’s Inn, Nov. 25, 1755.”—From whence Hurd’s “Seventh Dissertation” was dated.
Gibbon’s “Critical Observations on the Design of the Sixth Book of the Æneid.” Dr. Parr considers this clear, elegant, and decisive work of criticism, as a complete refutation of Warburton’s discovery.
It is curious enough to observe that Warburton himself, acknowledging this to be a paradox, exultingly exclaims, “Which, like so many others I have had the ODD FORTUNE to advance, will be seen to be only another name for Truth.” This has all the levity of a sophist’s language! Hence we must infer that some of the most important subjects could not be understood and defended, but by Warburton’s “odd fortune!” It was this levity of ideas that raised a suspicion that he was not always sincere. He writes, in a letter, of “living in mere spite, to rub another volume of the ‘Divine Legation’ in the noses of bigots and zealots.” He employs the most ludicrous images, and the coarsest phrases, on the most solemn subjects. In one of his most unlucky paradoxes with Lowth, on the age and style of the writings of Job, he accuses that elegant scholar of deficient discernment; and, in respect to style, as not “distinguishing partridge from horseflesh;” and in quoting some of the poetical passages, of “paying with an old song,” and “giving rhyme for reason.” Alluding to some one of his adversaries, whom he calls “the weakest, as well as the wickedest of all mankind,” he employs a striking image—“I shall hang him and his fellows, as they do vermin in a warren, and leave them to posterity, to stink and blacken in the wind.”
Warburton, in this work (the “Doctrine of Grace,”) has a curious passage, too long to quote, where he observes, that “The Indian and Asiatic eloquence was esteemed hyperbolic and puerile by the more phlegmatic inhabitants of Rome and Athens: and the Western eloquence, in its turn, frigid or insipid, to the hardy and inflamed imaginations of the East. The same expression, which in one place had the utmost simplicity, had in another the utmost sublime.” The jackal, too, echoes the roar of the lion; for the polished Hurd, whose taste was far more decided than Warburton’s, was bold enough to add, in his Letter to Leland, “That which is thought supremely elegant in one country, passes in another for finical; while what in this country is accepted under the idea of sublimity, is derided in that other as no better than bombast.” So unsettled were the no-taste of Warburton, and the prim-taste of Hurd!