Thus, there is probably something in the history of the ages intervening between the purity and corruption of Christianity, calculated to confirm the infidelity of a mind not receiving its authority, and not loving its truths.

It will be observed that I do not say, that a careful study of history, in the extensive sense of that word, is conducive to skepticism; but in the peculiar position in which a modern writer may look back to the rise of Christianity, through ages infected by its grossest corruptions, an unspiritual eye may confound the darkness with the light, as a traveller may so place himself, that trees and mountains may partially intercept his view of the sun.

Gibbon has written his own life, and freely recorded the process by which he became a skeptick. It must be confessed that his lot was unfortunate. Born in an affluent and pleasure-seeking family, who knew little of Christianity except the name, he was sent at an early age to Oxford, with a very superficial knowledge of classical literature. Here, to use his own melancholy language-" without a single lecture, either public or private, either Christian or Protestant, without any academical subscription, without any Episcopal confirmation, I was left by the dim light of my catechism, to grope my way to the chapel and communion table, where I was admitted, without a question how far, or by what means, I might be qualified to receive the sacrament." His studies were neglected, and not a single tutor, or officer of college, undertook to direct his literary or religious pursuits. He saw, according to his own account, in the Doctors of the University, the most unedifying examples; and conscious, that wherever truth might be, the spirit of religion was not there, he was led to seek it in another communion. In this state, while suffered to run wild, some Popish books fell into his hands; he read them; became a convert, and was privately reconciled to the Romish church. The gates of Oxford were of course closed on the young apostate, and his father sent him to study with a Protestant clergyman, in the south of France, where the most untiring polemic industry was used to bring him back to the Protestant faith. But in all this machinery of conversion and re-conversion, it does not appear, that it was ever hinted to him, that religion had any thing to do with the state of his heart. It was always a source of mortification to him, that his reasoning powers

were captivated by the sophistry of the Romanists; and he revenged the victory of a false religion over his mind, by becoming an infidel.

In order to form a just estimate of his reputation, we must consider some circumstances of the time at which he appeared. It was about the middle of the last century that Dr. Conyers Middleton, a man of extensive learning, and master of a fine style, published his "Free Inquiry" respecting the miracles of the early church, posteriour however to the apostolic age. His theory is, that miraculous powers ceased with the Apostles. He supposes, that we can find an interval of about fifty years, when there is no mention made of the existence of, or claims to any such powers, during which some of the purest and best Fathers wrote, such as Clemens Romanus, Ignatius, Polycarp. After this short interval of purity and truth, he imagines the lying spirit revived with Justin Martyr, Irenæus, and Tertullian, and was handed down with fatal authority until it became swollen into the bloated heresy of Popery itself. It will be seen that this hypothesis seems to involve in the charge of delusion all the most venerated writers of the Church, previous to the Reformation. Chrysostom must be thrown into the same limbo of vanity with Gregory Thaumaturgus, and Augustin must lie with the first Gregory of Rome; for they both of them record miracles which it is impossible for a Protestant to believe. Dr. Middleton's book, which in this country would have been received with very general approbation, threw the whole English Church, which has retained a deeper reverence for antiquity than other Protestant denominations, into a flame. Not long after, Gibbon, who had read Middleton with great attention, published his history, and treated all those ancient miracles with that haughty, genteel sneer, for which he was so remarkable. The Church of England, which had prided herself on her liberality and learning, found that she was ranked in point of credulity with Papists and Pagans themselves. It was very exasperating. She arose against it, and attacked the historian; and hence Gibbon has received a character for

* See the viii chapter, of the XXII Book, of the City of God. In this chapter Augustin appears, like a robust man dwelling in a sickly climate, strong in his natural vigour, but sickly from the influence of that credulous age. One of the most pleasing of his miracles, is that of a virgin of Hippo, who was cured by anointing herself with oil, into which a presbyter had distilled his tears, cui pro illa orans Presbyter instillaverat lacrymas suas.

misrepresentation which he does not deserve. Much that he sneers at, is unquestionably false; though whether any errour connected with sincere religion deserves a sneer, may well be doubted. Gibbon has been charged with faults he never committed, and hence his real errours are in danger of passing without reproof.

He certainly was a careful and most laborious investigator. He went up to original records, though he always found them first through the manuduction of some modern guide. I cannot pretend to be acquainted with but a very small portion of those dusty authors, whom he has arranged, with such surpassing erudition, at the bottom of his page. In a few cases I have traced him to his authorities; and it seems to me, he is too honest a man ever to falsify his record; he never relates an event without a witness. Often too, with great acuteness, he disentangles the web, which crossing testimonies had woven before him. His style, though not so dark, we think, as has been sometimes represented, is perhaps too smart and epigrammatical. Still it has the advantage of detaining the attention. Nor should we object altogether to his irony, or to his freedom in laying open the deformities of the Mother Church.

The great errour of Gibbon is, he weaves one uniform texture of narration, without informing the reader of the very different gradations in which the events stand in point of probability. He is like an architect, who should build a bridge equally smooth on the surface, but in some places supported by granite arches, and in others by rotten piers. Thus he slips over the story of Mohammed, (relating to events which happened in the heart of the Arabian desert,) with the same confident tone, as he does the deeds of Augustus. In short, this skeptick is a dogmatist; and no writer ever blended facts and opinions together, with such fatal skill. He never can let the event go without a comment; he never can suffer a witness to speak for himself. Whoever is on the stand, or whatever is the cause, the court is always interposing. In short, his is the most coloured page that was ever written; and coloured, not like Lord Clarendon's, who steps boldly forth, brush in hand, and gives a visible stroke, but coloured secretly, in the choice of words, in adjectives and adverbs, in associated ideas, in manner which is scarcely noticed until it is experienced in the powerful effect. Gibbon has a propensity to tread a middle line

between irony and concession; just as Swedenbourg steers between a metaphor and a literal meaning.

However, his day is over; all the harm he can ever do is probably done. It is the pride of this age, that the crossing streams of literature have purified the ocean. Not even the genius of Gibbon can cloud the truths of time; and though his history will be read for its facts, and its weighty maxims, it will be read with such allowance and exceptions by every discerning reader, as will preserve him from being blinded to the illustrations which the truths of Christianity have received from time.

It is remarkable that the object for which this work was written, should be so little promoted by it. As the pyramids which were built by the kings of Egypt, to preserve their names, are still preserved, though the names of their builders are lost; so this history, written to promote infidelity, will fail of its object, and last forever.

The history proceeds in an inoffensive tenour, until we come to the fifteenth and sixteenth chapters, in which the author gives an account of the rise of Christianity. I have already remarked, that he often presents a series of facts, as all standing on equal credit, without giving notice of the different degrees of probability by which they are supported. He sometimes seems to approach that vulgar delusion of supposing that an event, or writing, must be entirely received, or entirely rejected, without adverting to the degrees of probability on which a rejected testimony may stand. Thus, he treats with the utmost scorn, the fact alluded to by all the ecclesiastical writers, that Pilate sent to Tiberius an account of the Crucifixion.

"The Apology of Tertullian contains two very ancient, very singular, but at the same time very suspicious instances of imperial clemency; the edicts published by Tiberius and by Marcus Antonius, and designed not only to protect the innocence of the Christians, but even to proclaim those stupendous miracles which had attested the truth of their doctrine. The first of these examples is attended with some difficulties, which might perplex the skeptical mind. We are required to believe, that Pontius Pilate informed the emperor of the unjust sentence of death which he had pronounced against an innocent, and, as it appeared, a divine person; and that, without acquiring the merit, he exposed himself to the danger of martyrdom; that Tiberius, who avowed his

contempt for all religion, immediately conceived the design of placing the Jewish Messiah among the gods of Rome; that his servile senate ventured to disobey the commands of of their master; that Tiberius, instead of resenting their refusal, contented himself with protecting the Christians from the severity of the laws, many years before such laws were enacted, or before the church had assumed any distinct name or existence; and lastly, that the memory of this extraordinary transaction was preserved in the most public and authentic records, which escaped the knowledge of the historians of Greece and Rome, and were only visible to the eyes of an African Christian, who composed his Apology one hundred and sixty years after the death of Tiberius."

But not one of these reasons will be found so conclusive as he represents. There was no need that Pilate should represent his own sentence as unjust; for he sentenced Christ on the charge of striving to be a king,-a point on which Tiberius was peculiarly jealous. In the second place, it is not so absurd as our historian seems to insinuate, that Tiberius, who avowed his contempt for all religion, should conceive the design of placing the Jewish Messiah among the gods of Rome; for all tyrants, however atheistic themselves, pay some external deference, at least, to the prejudices of their people; and to adopt a new deity, was exactly according to the accommodating spirit of polytheism; perhaps it was the best way to degrade Jesus from the exclusive pre-eminence which he might hold in the minds of some of the people. In the third place, it is not very absurd to suppose that his servile senate might venture on such a point to dispute his commands; for as it is suggested by Reading in his notes on Eusebius, (see Eusebius, lib. ii. chap. 2d, page 47, Cambridge, 1820,) this is one of those indifferent points on which a tyrant allows his subjects a license, in order more effectually to veil his purposes in more important affairs. Bonaparte was accustomed to allow his senate to oppose his will in points which he deemed non-essential, as a decent veil to cover the deformity of oppression; and we are told by Tacitus, that Tiberius often did the same. The bargain was with the senate, "you shall play with the shadow of authority, only leave me the substance." In the last place, it is not very improbable that so trifling an incident (as the Pagans would conceive it,) should escape the notice of the secular historian, and be preserved by a Christian teacher, who was