sius at their head, were as competent judges of the discipline of the fourth century, as even the Lady Margaret's Professor of Divinity in the University of Oxford. As a work of supererogation, I have consulted, however, the Antiquities of Bingham (See L. iv. c. iii. s. 6, 7. vol. i. p. 144, &c. fol. edit.) and found, as I expected, that much real learning had made him cautious and modest. After a careful examination of the facts and authorities already known to me, and of those with which I was supplied by the diligent antiquarian, I am persuaded that the theory and the practice of discipline were not invariably the same, that particular examples cannot always be reconciled with general rules, and that the stern laws of justice often yielded to motives of policy and convenience. The temper of Jerom towards those whom he considered as heretics, was fierce and unforgiving; yet the Dialogue of Jerom against the Luciferians, which I have read with infinite pleasure, (tom. ii. p. 135-147. Edit. Basil. 1536,) is the seasonable and dexterous performance of a statesman, who felt the expediency of soothing and reconciling a numerous party of offenders. The most rigid discipline, with regard to the ecclesiastics who had fallen in time of persecution, is expressed in the 10th Canon of the Council of Nice; the most remarkable indulgence was shewn by the Fathers of the same Council to the lapsed, the degraded, the schismatic bishop of Lycopolis. Of the penitent sinners, some might escape the shame of a public conviction or confession, and others might be exempted from the

rigour of clerical punishment. If Eusebius incurred the guilt of a sacrilegious promise, (for we are free to accept the milder alternative of Potamon,) the proofs of this criminal transaction might be suppressed by the influence of money or favour; a seasonable journey into Egypt might allow time for the popular rumours to subside. The crime of Eusebius might be protected by the impunity of many Episcopal Apostates (See Philostorg. L. ii. c. 15. p. 21. Edit. Gothofred.); and the governors of the Church very reasonably desired to retain in their service the most learned Christian of the age.

Before I return these sheets to the press, I must not forget an anonymous pamphlet, which, under the title of A Few Remarks, &c. was published against my History in the course of the last summer. The unknown writer has thought proper to distinguish himself by the emphatic, yet vague, appellation of A GENTLEMAN : but I must lament that he has not considered, with becoming attention, the duties of that respectable character. I am ignorant of the motives which can urge a man of a liberal mind, and liberal manners, to attack without provocation, and without tenderness, any work which may have contributed to the information, or even to the amusement, of the public. But I am well convinced that the author of such a work, who boldly gives his name and his labours to the world, imposes on his adversaries the fair and honourable obligation of encountering him in open daylight, and of supporting the weight of their assertions by the credit of their names. The effu

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effusions of wit, or the productions of reason, may be accepted from a secret and unknown hand. The critic who attempts to injure the reputation of another, by strong imputations which may possibly be false, should renounce the ungenerous hope of concealing behind a mask the vexation of disappointment, and the guilty blush of detection.

After this remark, which I cannot make without some degree of concern, I shall frankly declare, that it is not my wish or my intention to prosecute with this Gentleman a literary altercation. There lies between us a broad and unfathomable gulph; and the heavy mist of prejudice and superstition, which has in a great measure been dispelled by the free inquiries of the present age, still continues to involve the mind of my adversary. He fondly embraces those phantoms (for instance, an imaginary Pilate,*) which can scarcely find a shelter in the gloom of an Italian convent; and the resentment which he points against me, might frequently be extended to the most enlightened of the PROTESTANT, or, in his opinion, of the HERETICAL critics. His observations are divided into a num ber of unconnected paragraphs, each of which contains some quotation from my History, and the angry, yet commonly trifling, expression of his disapprobation and displeasure. Those sentiments I cannot hope to remove; and as the religious opinions of this Gentleman are principally founded on the infallibility of the Church, they are not cal

culated to make a very deep impression on the mind of an English reader. The view of facts will be materially affected by the contagious influence of doctrines. The man who refuses to judge of the conduct of Lewis XIV. and Charles V. towards their Protestant subjects,* declares himself incapable of distinguishing the limits of persecution and toleration. The devout Papist, who has implored on his knees the intercession of St. Cyprian, will seldom presume to examine the actions of the Saint by the rules of historical evidence and of moral propriety. Instead of the homely likeness which I had exhibited of the Bishop of Carthage, my adversary has substituted a life of Cyprian, full of what the French call onction, and the English, canting (See Jortin's Remarks, Vol. ii. p. 239.): to which I can only reply, that those who are dissatisfied with the principles of Mosheim and Le Clerc, must view with eyes very different from mine, the Ecclesiastical History of the third century.

It would be an endless discussion (endless in every sense of the word) were I to examine the cavils which start up and expire in every page of this criticism, on the inexhaustible topic of opinions, characters, and intentions. Most of the instances which are here produced are of so brittle a substance, that they fall in pieces as soon as they are touched and I searched for some time before I was able to discover an example of some moment

*Remarks, p. 111.

+ Id. p. 72-88.

where

the consciousness, or at least by the opinion, that I was discharging a debt of honour to the public and to myself. I am impatient to dismiss, and to dismiss FOR EVER, this odious controversy, with the success of which I cannot surely be elated; and I have only to request, that, as soon as my readers are convinced of my innocence, they would forget my Vindication.