After this part of the creed was thus established, there arose

presently many new heresies, partly about the interpretation of it,

and partly about the Holy Ghost, of which the Nicene Council had not

determined. Concerning the part established, there arose disputes

about the nature of Christ, and the word _hypostasis_, _id est_,

substance; for of persons there was yet no mention made, the creed

being written in Greek, in which language there is no word that

answereth to the Latin word _persona_. And the union, as the Fathers

called it, of the human and Divine nature in Christ, _hypostatical_,

caused Eutyches, and after him Dioscorus, to affirm, there was but

one nature in Christ; thinking that whensoever two things are

united, they are one: and this was condemned as Arianism in the

Councils of Constantinople and Ephesus. Others, because they thought

two living and rational substances, such as are God and man, must

needs be also two _hypostases_, maintained that Christ had two

_hypostases_: but these were two heresies condemned together. Then

concerning the Holy Ghost, Nestorius Bishop of Constantinople, and

some others, denied the divinity thereof. And whereas about seventy

years before the Nicene Council, there had been holden a provincial

Council at Carthage, wherein it was decreed, that those Christians

which in the persecutions had denied the faith of Christ, should not

be received again into the church unless they were again baptized:

this also was condemned, though the President in that Council was

that most sincere and pious Christian, Cyprian. And at last the

creed was made up entire as we have it, in the Chalcedonian Council,

by addition of these words: AND I BELIEVE IN THE HOLY GHOST, THE

LORD AND GIVER OF LIFE, WHO PROCEEDETH FROM THE FATHER AND THE SON.

WHO WITH THE FATHER AND THE SON TOGETHER IS WORSHIPPED AND

GLORIFIED. WHO SPAKE BY THE PROPHETS. AND I BELIEVE ONE CATHOLIC AND

APOSTOLIC CHURCH. I ACKNOWLEDGE ONE BAPTISM FOR THE REMISSION OF

SINS. AND I LOOK FOR THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD, AND THE LIFE OF

THE WORLD TO COME. In this addition are condemned, first the

Nestorians and others, in these words: WHO WITH THE FATHER AND THE

SON TOGETHER IS WORSHIPPED AND GLORIFIED: and secondly, the doctrine

of the Council of Carthage, in these words: I BELIEVE ONE BAPTISM

FOR THE REMISSION OF SINS. For one baptism is not there put as

opposite to several sorts or manners of baptism, but to the

iteration of it. St. Cyprian was a better Christian than to allow

any baptism that was not in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy

Ghost. In the general confession of faith contained in the creed

called the Nicene Creed, there is no mention of _hypostasis_, nor of

hypostatical union, nor of corporeal, nor of incorporeal, nor of

parts; the understanding of which words being not required of the

vulgar, but only of the pastors, whose disagreement else might

trouble the church; nor were such points necessary to salvation, but

set abroach for ostentation of learning, or else to dazzle men, with

design to lead them towards some ends of their own. The changes of

prevalence in the empire between the Catholics and the Arians, and

how the great Athanasius, the most fierce of the Catholics, was

banished by Constantine, and afterwards restored, and again

banished, I let pass; only it is to be remembered, that Athanasius

is supposed to have made his creed then, when (banished) he was in

Rome, Liberius being pope; by whom, as is most likely, the word

_hypostasis_, as it was in Athanasius’s Creed, was disliked. For the

Roman church could never be brought to receive it, but instead

thereof used their own word _persona_. But the first and last words

of that creed the church of Rome refused not: for they make every

article, not only those of the body of the creed, but all the

definitions of the Nicene Fathers to be such, as a man cannot be

saved, unless he believe them all stedfastly; though made only for

peace sake, and to unite the minds of the clergy, whose disputes

were like to trouble the peace of the empire. After these four first

general Councils, the power of the Roman church grew up apace; and,

either by the negligence or weakness of the succeeding Emperors, the

Pope did what he pleased in religion. _There was no doctrine which

tended to the power ecclesiastical, or to the reverence of the

clergy, the contradiction whereof was not by one Council or another

made heresy, and punished arbitrarily by the Emperors with

banishment or death._ And at last kings themselves, and

commonwealths, unless they purged their dominions of heretics, were

excommunicated, interdicted, and their subjects let loose upon them

by the Pope; insomuch as to an ingenuous and serious Christian,

there was nothing so dangerous as to enquire concerning his own

salvation, of the Holy Scripture; the careless cold Christian was

safe, and the skilful hypocrite a saint. But this is a story so well

known, as I need not insist upon it any longer, but proceed to the

heretics here in England, and what punishments were ordained for

them by acts of parliament. All this while the penal laws against

heretics were such, as the several princes and states, in their own

dominions, thought fit to enact. The edicts of the emperors made

their punishments capital, but for the manner of the execution, left

it to the prefects of provinces: and when other kings and states

intended, according to the laws of the Roman church, to extirpate

heretics, they ordained such punishment as they pleased. The first

law that was here made for the punishment of heretics, called

Lollards and mentioned in the Statutes, was in the fifth year of the

reign of Richard the Second, occasioned by the doctrine of John

Wickliff and his followers; which Wickliff, because no law was yet

ordained for his punishment in parliament, by the favour of John of

Gaunt, the King’s son, during the reign of Edward the Third, had

escaped. But in the fifth year of the next king, which was Richard

the Second, there passed an act of parliament to this effect: that

sheriffs and some others should have commissions to apprehend such

as were certified by the prelates to be preachers of heresy, their

fautors, maintainers, and abettors, and to hold them in strong

prison, till they should justify themselves, according to the law of

holy church. So that hitherto there was no law in England, by which

a heretic could be put to death, or otherways punished, than by

imprisoning him till he was reconciled to the church. After this, in

the next king’s reign, which was Henry the Fourth, son of John of

Gaunt, by whom Wickliff had been favoured, _and who in his aspiring

to the crown had needed the good will of the bishops_, was made a

law, in the second year of his reign, wherein it was enacted, that

every ordinary may convene before him, and imprison any person

suspected of heresy; and that an obstinate heretic shall be burnt

before the people.

In the next king’s reign, which was Henry the Fifth, in his second

year, was made an act of parliament, wherein it is declared, that

the intent of heretics, called Lollards, was to subvert the

Christian faith, the law of God, the church, and the realm: and that

an heretic convict should forfeit all his fee-simple lands, goods,

and chattels, besides the punishment of burning. Again, in the

five-and-twentieth year of King Henry the Eighth, it was enacted,

that an heretic convict shall abjure his heresies, and refusing so

to do, or relapsing, shall be burnt in open place, for example of

others. This act was made after the putting down of the Pope’s

authority: and by this it appears, that King Henry the Eighth

intended no farther alteration in religion, than the recovering of

his own right ecclesiastical. But in the first year of his son, King

Edward the Sixth, was made an act, by which were repealed not only

this act, but also all former acts concerning doctrines, or matters

of religion; so that at this time there was no law at all for the

punishment of heretics.

Again, in the Parliament of the first and second year of Queen Mary,

this act of 1 Edward VI was not repealed, but made useless, by

reviving the statute of 25 Henry VIII, and freely putting it in

execution; insomuch as it was debated, whether or no they should

proceed upon that statute against the Lady Elizabeth, the Queen’s

sister.

The Lady Elizabeth, not long after, by the death of Queen Mary,

coming to the crown, in the fifth year of her reign, by act of

Parliament repealed in the first place all the laws ecclesiastical

of Queen Mary, with all other former laws concerning the punishments

of heretics: nor did she enact any other punishments in their place.

In the second place it was enacted, that the Queen by her letters

patents should give a commission to the bishops, with certain other

persons, in her Majesty’s name, to execute the power ecclesiastical;

in which commission, the commissioners were forbidden to adjudge

anything to be heresy, which was not declared to be heresy by some

of the first four general Councils: but there was no mention made of

general Councils, but only in that branch of the act which

authorised that commission, commonly called _the High Commission_;

nor was there in that commission anything concerning how heretics

were to be punished; but it was granted to them, that they might

declare or not declare, as they pleased, to be heresy or not heresy,

any of those doctrines which had been condemned for heresy in the

first four general Councils. So that during the time that the said

High Commission was in being, there was no statute by which a

heretic could be punished otherways, than by the ordinary censures

of the church; nor doctrine accounted heresy, unless the

commissioners had actually declared and published, that all that

which was made heresy by those four Councils, should be heresy also

now: but I never heard that any such declaration was made either by

proclamation, or by recording it in churches, or by public printing,

as in penal laws is necessary; the breaches of it are excused by

ignorance. Besides, if heresy had been made capital, or otherwise

civilly punishable, either the four general Councils themselves, or

at least the points condemned in them, ought to have been printed or

put into parish churches in English, because without it, no man

could know how to beware of offending against them.

Some men may perhaps ask, whether nobody were condemned and burnt

for heresy, during the time of the High Commission.

I have heard there were: but they which approve such executions, may

peradventure know better grounds for them than I do; but those

grounds are very well worthy to be enquired after.

Lastly, in the seventeenth year of the reign of King Charles the

First, shortly after that the Scots had rebelliously put down the

episcopal government in Scotland, the Presbyterians in England

endeavoured the same here. The king, though he saw the rebels ready

to take the field, would not condescend to that; but yet in hope to

appease them, was content to pass an act of parliament for the

abolishing the High Commission. But though the High Commission was

taken away, yet the parliament having other ends besides the setting

up of the Presbyterate, pursued the rebellion, and put down both

episcopacy and monarchy, erecting a power by them called _The

Commonwealth_, by others _The Rump_, which men obeyed not out of

duty, but for fear; nor were there any human laws left in force to

restrain any man from preaching or writing any doctrine concerning

religion that he pleased. And in this heat of the war, it was

impossible to disturb the peace of the state, which then was none.

And in this time it was, that a book called _Leviathan_ was written

in defence of the King’s power, temporal and spiritual, without any

word against episcopacy, or against any bishop, or against the

public doctrine of the church. It pleased God, about twelve years

after the usurpation of this _Rump_, to restore his most gracious

Majesty that now is, to his father’s throne, and presently, his

Majesty restored the bishops, and pardoned the Presbyterians. But

then both the one and the other accused in Parliament this book of

heresy, when neither the bishops before the war had declared what

was heresy; when if they had, it had been made void by the putting

down of the High Commission at the importunity of the Presbyterians.

So fierce are men, for the most part, in dispute, where either their

learning or power is debated, that they never think of the laws, but

as soon as they are offended, they cry out, _crucifige_; forgetting

what St. Paul (2 Tim. ii. 24, 25) saith, even in case of obstinate

holding of an error: _the servant of the Lord must not strive, but

be gentle unto all men, apt to teach, patient, in meekness

instructing those that oppose themselves; if God peradventure will

give them repentance, to the acknowledging of the truth_: of which

counsel, such fierceness as hath appeared in the disputation of

divines, down from before the Council of Nice to this present time,

is a violation.

FINIS.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CONSIDERATIONS

UPON THE

REPUTATION, LOYALTY, MANNERS,

AND RELIGION,

OF

THOMAS HOBBES,

OF MALMESBURY,

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF,

BY WAY OF

LETTER TO A LEARNED PERSON

(JOHN WALLIS, D.D.)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE

BOOKSELLER'S ADVERTISEMENT.

TO THE READERS.

-------

I do here present you with a piece of Mr. Hobbes’s writing; which is

not published from an imperfect MS. as his _Dialogue of the Civil

Wars of England_ was, by some that had got accidentally a copy of

it, absolutely against his consent, as you may see by some passages

out of some of his letters to me, which I have here inserted.

In his letter of June, 1679, he saith:

“I would fain have published my _Dialogue of the Civil Wars of

England_, long ago; and to that end I presented it to his Majesty:

and some days after, when I thought he had read it, I humbly

besought him to let me print it; but his Majesty, though he heard me

graciously, yet he flatly refused to have it published. Therefore I

brought away the book, and gave you leave to take a copy of it;

which when you had done, I gave the original to an honourable and

learned friend, who about a year after died. The King knows better,

and is more concerned in publishing of books than I am: therefore I

dare not venture to appear in the business, lest it should offend

him. Therefore I pray you not to meddle in the business. Rather than

to be thought any way to further or countenance the printing, I

would be content to lose twenty times the value of what you can

expect to get, &c. I pray do not take it ill; it may be I may live

to send you somewhat else as vendible as that: and without offence,

I rest Your very humble servant,

THOMAS HOBBES.”

_Chatsworth, June 19, 1679._

(Part of his letter in July, 1679.)

“If I leave any MSS. worth printing, I will leave word you shall

have them, if you please. I am

Your humble servant,

THOMAS HOBBES.”

_Chatsworth, July 21, 1679._

(Part of his letter, August, 1679.)

“Sir,—I thank you for taking my advice in not stirring about the

printing of my book concerning the civil wars of England, &c. I am

writing somewhat for you to print in English, &c. I am, Sir,

Your humble servant,

THOMAS HOBBES.”

_Chatsworth, Aug. 18, 1679._

That no spurious brats, for the time to come, be fathered upon the

deceased author, I have printed, _verbatim_, these passages out of

his letters written to me at several times; their original I have by

me. I will be so just to his memory, that I will not print anything

but what is perfect, and fitted for the press. And if any book shall

be printed with his name to it, that hath not before been printed,

you may be confident it is not his, unless printed for

WILLIAM CROOKE.

CONSIDERATIONS

UPON THE REPUTATION, &c.

OF

THOMAS HOBBES.

-------

SIR,

I am one of them that admire your writings; and having read over

your _Hobbius Heauton-timorumenos_, I cannot hold from giving you

some account of the causes why I admire it. And first I considered

how you handle him for his disloyalty, in these words (page 5): _His

great_ Leviathan, _wherein he placed his main strength, is now

somewhat out of season; which, upon deserting his royal master in

distress, (for he pretends to have been the King’s tutor, though

yet, from those who have most reason to know it, I can find but

little ground for such a pretence), was written in defence of

Oliver’s title, or whoever, by whatsoever means, can get to be

upmost; placing the whole right of government merely in strength,

and absolving all his Majesty’s subjects from their allegiance,

whenever he is not in a present capacity to force obedience_.

That which I observe and admire here, first, is, that you left not

this passage out, for two reasons; one, because Mr. Hobbes could

long for nothing more than such an occasion to tell the world his

own and your little stories, during the time of the late rebellion.

When the Parliament sat, that began in April 1640, and was dissolved

in May following, and in which many points of the regal power, which

were necessary for the peace of the kingdom, and the safety of his

Majesty’s person, were disputed and denied, Mr. Hobbes wrote a

little treatise in English, wherein he did set forth and

demonstrate, that the said power and rights were inseparably annexed

to the sovereignty; which sovereignty they did not then deny to be

in the King; but it seems understood not, or would not understand

that inseparability. Of this treatise, though not printed, many

gentlemen had copies, which occasioned much talk of the author; and

had not his Majesty dissolved the Parliament, it had brought him

into danger of his life.

He was the first that had ventured to write in the King’s defence;

and one, amongst very few, that upon no other ground but knowledge

of his duty and principles of equity, without special interest, was

in all points perfectly loyal.

The third of November following, there began a new Parliament,

consisting for the greatest part of such men as the people had

elected only for their averseness to the King’s interest. These

proceeded so fiercely in the very beginning, against those that had

written or preached in the defence of any part of that power, which

they also intended to take away, and in gracing those whom the King

had disgraced for sedition, that Mr. Hobbes, doubting how they would

use him, went over into France, the first of all that fled, and

there continued eleven years, to his damage some thousands of pounds

deep. This, Doctor, was your time of harvest: you were in their

favour, and that, as you have made it since appear, for no goodness.

Being at Paris, he wrote and published his book _De Cive_, in Latin,

to the end that all nations which should hear what you and your

Con-Covenanters were doing in England, might detest you, which I

believe they do; for I know no book more magnified than this is

beyond the seas.

When his Majesty, that now is, came to Paris, Mr. Hobbes had the

honour to initiate him in the mathematics; but never was so impudent

or ignorant as to call, or to think himself the King’s tutor, as

you, that understand not what that word, out of the University,

signifies, do falsely charge him with; or ever to say, that he was

one of his Majesty’s domestic servants. While upon this occasion he

staid about Paris, and had neither encouragement nor desire to

return into England, he wrote and published his _Leviathan_, far

from the intention either of disadvantage to his Majesty, or to

flatter Oliver, who was not made Protector till three or four years

after, on purpose to make way for his return. For there is scarce a

page in it that does not upbraid both him, and you, and others such

as you, with your abominable hypocrisy and villainy.

Nor did he desert his Majesty, as you falsely accuse him, as his

Majesty himself knows. Nor was his Majesty, as you unmannerly term

it, _in distress_. He had the title, right, and reverence of a King,

and maintained his faithful servants with him. It is true that Mr.

Hobbes came home, but it was because he would not trust his safety

with the French clergy.

Do you know that ever he sought any benefit either from Oliver, or

from any of his party, or was any way familiar with any of his

ministers, before or after his return; or curried favour with any of

them, as you did by dedicating a book to his vice-chancellor, Owen?

Did you ever hear that he took anything done to him by his Majesty

in evil part, or spake of him otherwise than the best of his

servants would do; or that he was sullen, silent, or sparing, in

praising his Majesty in any company, upon any occasion?

He knew who were his enemies, and upon what ground they misconstrued

his writings.

But your indiscretion appears more manifestly in giving him occasion

to repeat what you have done, and to _consider_ you, as you

professedly have considered him. For with what equity can it be

denied him to repeat your manifest and horrible crimes, for all you

have been pardoned; when you publish falsely pretended faults of

his, and comprehended in the same pardon?

If he should say and publish, that you deciphered the letters of the

King and his party, and thereby delivered his Majesty’s secrets to

the enemy, and his best friends to the scaffold, and boasted of it

in your book of arithmetic, written in Latin, to all the world, as

of a monument of your wit, worthy to be preserved in the University

Library: how will you justify yourself, if you be reproached for

having been a rebel and a traitor? It may be you, or some for you,

will now say, you deciphered those letters to the King’s advantage:

but then you were unfaithful to your masters of the Parliament: a

very honest pretence, and full of gallantry, to excuse _treason_

with _treachery_, and to be a double spy. Besides, who will believe

it? Who enabled you to do the King that favour? Why herded you with

his enemies? Who brought the King into a need of such a fellow’s

favour, but they that first deserted him, and then made war upon

him, and which were your friends and Mr. Hobbes his enemies? Nay

more, I know not one enemy Mr. Hobbes then had, but such as were

first the King’s enemies, and, because the King’s, therefore his.

Your being of that party, without your deciphering, amounts to no

more than a desertion. Of the bishops that then were, and for whose

sakes, in part, you raised the war, there was not one that followed

the King out of the land, though they loved him, but lived quietly

under the protection, first of the Parliament, and then of Oliver,

(whose titles and actions were equally unjust) without treachery. Is

not this as bad as if they had gone over, and (which was Mr. Hobbes

his case) been driven back again? I hope you will not call them all

deserters, or, because by their stay here openly they accepted of

the Parliament’s and of Oliver’s protection, defenders either of

Oliver’s or of the Parliament’s title to the sovereign power.

How many were there in that Parliament at first that did indeed and

voluntarily desert the King, in consenting to many of their unjust

actions? Many of these afterwards, either upon better judgment, or

because they pleased not the faction, (for it was a hard matter for

such as were not of Pym’s cabal to please the Parliament), or for

some other private ends deserted the Parliament, and did some of

them more hurt to the King than if they had stayed where they were;

for they had been so affrighted by such as you, with a panic fear of

tyranny, that seeking to help him by way of composition and sharing,

they abated the just and necessary indignation of his armies, by

which only his right was to be recovered.

That very entering into the Covenant with the Scottish nation

against the King, is by itself a very great crime, and you guilty of

it. And so was the imposing of the Engagement, and you guilty of

that also, as being done by the then Parliament, whose democratical

principles you approved of.

You were also assisting to the Assembly of Divines that made the

_Directory_, and which were afterwards put down by Oliver for

counterfeiting themselves ambassadors. And this was when the King

was living, and at the head of an army, which with your own

endeavour might have protected you. What crime it is, the King being

head of the Church of England, to make _Directories_, to alter the

_Church-government_, and to set up new forms of God’s service, upon

your own fancies, without the King’s authority, the lawyers could

have told you; and what punishment you were to expect from it, you

might have seen in the statute printed before the _Book of Common

Prayer_.

Further he may say, and truly, that you were guilty of all the

treasons, murders, and spoil committed by Oliver, or by any upon

Oliver’s or the Parliament’s authority: for, during the late

trouble, who made both Oliver and the people mad, but the preachers

of your principles? But besides the wickedness, see the folly of it.

You thought to make them mad, but just to such a degree as should

serve your own turn; that is to say, mad, and yet just as wise as

yourselves. Were you not very imprudent to think to govern madness?

Paul they knew, but who were you? You were they, that put the army

into Oliver’s hands, who before, as mad as he was, was too weak, and

too obscure to do any great mischief; with which army he executed

upon such as you, both here and in Scotland, that which the justice

of God required.

Therefore of all the crimes, the great one not excepted, done in

that rebellion, you were guilty; you, I say, Doctor, how little

force or wit soever you contributed, for your good-will to their

cause. The King was hunted as a partridge in the mountains; and

though the hounds have been hanged, yet the hunters were as guilty

as they, and deserved no less punishment. And the decipherers, and

all that blew the horn, are to be reckoned amongst the hunters.

Perhaps you would not have had the prey killed, but rather have kept

it tame. And yet who can tell? I have read of few kings deprived of

their power by their own subjects, that have lived any long time

after it, for reasons that every man is able to conjecture.

All this is so manifest, as it needs no witnesses. In the meantime

Mr. Hobbes his behaviour was such, that of them who appeared in that

scene, he was the only man I know, except a few that had the same

principles with him, that has not something more or less to blush

for; as having either assisted that rebellious Parliament, without

necessity (when they might have had protection from the King, if

they had resorted to him for it in the field), by covenanting, or by

action, or with money or plate, or by voting against his Majesty’s

interest, in himself or his friends; though some of them have since

by extraordinary service deserved to be received into favour; but

what is that to you? You are none of them; and yet you dare to

reproach the guiltless, as if after so ill fruits of your sermons,

it were not impudence enough to preach.

I admire further, that having been forgiven these so transcendant

crimes, so great a debt to the gallows, you take Mr. Hobbes by the

throat for a word in his _Leviathan_, made a fault by malicious or

over-hasty construction: for you have thereby, like the unmerciful

debtor in the Gospel, in my opinion, forfeited your pardon, and so,

without a new one, may be hanged yet.

To that other charge, _that he writ his Leviathan in defence of

Oliver’s title_, he will say, that you in your own conscience know

it is false. What was Oliver, when that book came forth? It was in

1650, and Mr. Hobbes returned before 1651. Oliver was then but

General under your masters of the Parliament, nor had yet cheated

them of their usurped power. For that was not done till two or three

years after, in 1653, which neither he nor you could foresee. What

title then of Oliver’s could he pretend to justify? But you will

say, he placed the right of government there, wheresoever should be

the strength; and so by consequence he placed it in Oliver. Is that

all? Then primarily his _Leviathan_ was intended for your masters of

the Parliament, because the strength was then in them. Why did they

not thank him for it, both they and Oliver in their turns? There,

Doctor, you deciphered ill. For it was written in the behalf of

those many and faithful servants and subjects of his Majesty, that

had taken his part in the war, or otherwise done their utmost

endeavour to defend his Majesty’s right and person against the

rebels: whereby, having no other means of protection, nor, for the

most part, of subsistence, they were forced to compound with your

masters, and to promise obedience for the saving of their lives and

fortunes; which in his book he hath affirmed they might lawfully do,

and consequently not lawfully bear arms against the victors. They

that had done their utmost endeavour to perform their obligation to

the King, had done all that they could be obliged unto; and were

consequently at liberty to seek the safety of their lives and

livelihood wheresoever, and without treachery. But there is nothing

in that book to justify the submission of you, or such as you, to

the Parliament, after the King’s being driven from them, or to

Oliver; for you were the King’s enemies, and cannot pretend want of

that protection which you yourselves refused, denied, fought

against, and destroyed. If a man owe you money, and you by robbing

him, or other injury, disable him to pay you, the fault is your own;

nor needs this exception, _unless the creditor rob him_, be put into

the condition of the bond. Protection and obedience are relative. He

that says a man may submit to an enemy for want of protection, can

never be construed, but that he meant it of the obedient. But let us

consider his words, when he puts for a law of nature, (vol. iii. p.

703) _that every man is bound, as much as in him lieth, to protect

in war the authority by which he is himself protected in time of

peace_; which I think is no ungodly or unreasonable principle. For

confirmation of it, he defines in what point of time it is, that a

subject becomes obliged to obey an unjust conqueror; and defines it

thus: _it is that point wherein having liberty to submit to the

conqueror, he consenteth either by express words, or by other

sufficient signs, to be his subject_.

I cannot see, Doctor, how a man can be at liberty to submit to his

new, that has not first done all he could for his old master: nor if

he have done all he could, why that liberty should be refused him.

If a man be taken by the Turk, and brought by terror to fight

against his former master, I see how he may be killed for it as an

enemy, but not as a criminal; nor can I see how he that hath liberty

to submit, can at the same time be bound not to submit.

But you will say, perhaps, that he defines the time of that liberty

to the advantage of Oliver, in that he says, _that for an ordinary

subject, it is then, when the means of his life are within the

guards and garrisons of the enemy; for it is then, that he hath no

protection but from the enemy for his contribution_. It was not

necessary for him to explain it to men of so great understanding, as

you and other his enemies pretend to be, by putting in the

exception, _unless they came into those guards and garrisons by

their own treason_. Do you think that Oliver’s party, for their

submission to Oliver, could pretend the want of that protection?

The words therefore by themselves, without that exception, do

signify no more than this; _that whosoever had done as much as in

him did lie, to protect the King in war, had liberty afterwards to

provide themselves of such protection as they could get_; which to

those whose means of life were within the guards and garrisons of

Oliver, was Oliver’s protection.

Do you think, when a battle is lost, and you at the mercy of an

enemy, it is unlawful to receive quarter with condition of

obedience? Or if you receive it on that condition, do you think it

honesty to break promise, and treacherously murder him that gave you

your life? If that were good doctrine, he were a foolish enemy that

would give quarter to any man.

You see, then, that this submission to Oliver, or to your then

masters, is allowed by Mr. Hobbes his doctrine only to the King’s

faithful party, and not to any that fought against him, howsoever

they coloured it, by saying they fought for the King and Parliament;

nor to any that writ or preached against his cause, or encouraged

his adversaries; nor to any that betrayed his counsels, or that

intercepted or deciphered any letters of his, or of his officers, or

of any of his party; nor to any that by any way had contributed to

the diminution of his Majesty’s power, ecclesiastical or civil; nor

does it absolve any of them from their allegiance. You that make it

so heinous a crime for a man to save himself from violent death, by

a forced submission to a usurper, should have considered what crime

it was to submit voluntarily to the usurping Parliament.

I can tell you besides, why those words were put into his last

chapter, which he calls the review. It happened at that time that

there were many honourable persons, that having been faithful and

unblemished servants to the King, and soldiers in his army, had

their estates then sequestered; of whom some were fled, but the

fortunes of them all were at the mercy, not of Oliver, but of the

Parliament. Some of these were admitted to composition, some not.

They that compounded, though they helped the Parliament less by

their composition, than they should have done, if they had stood

out, by their confiscation, yet they were ill-spoken of, especially

by those that had no estates to lose, nor hope to compound. And it

was for this that he added to what he had written before, this

caution, that if they would compound, they were to do it _bona

fide_, without intention of treachery. Wherein he justified their

submission by their former obedience, and present necessity; but

condemned treachery. Whereas you that pretend to abhor atheism,

condemn that which was done upon necessity, and justify the

treachery: and you had reason for it, that cannot otherwise justify

yourselves. Those strugglings which happened afterwards, lost his

Majesty many a good and able subject, and strengthened Oliver with

the confiscation of their estates; which if they had attended the

discord of their enemies, might have been saved.

Perhaps you will take for a sign of Mr. Hobbes his ill meaning, that

his Majesty was displeased with him. And truly I believe he was

displeased for a while, but not very long. They that complained of,

and misconstrued his writings, were his Majesty’s good subjects, and

reputed wise and learned men, and thereby obtained to have their

misconstruction believed for some little time: but the very next

summer after his coming away, two honourable persons of the Court,

that came over into England, assured him, that his Majesty had a

good opinion of him; and others since have told me, that his Majesty

said openly, that he thought Mr. Hobbes never meant him hurt.

Besides, his Majesty hath used him more graciously than is ordinary

to so humble a person as he is, and so great a delinquent as you

would make him; and testified his esteem of him in his bounty. What

argument now can you draw from hence more than this, that his

Majesty understood his writings better than his accusers did?

I admire in the next place, upon what ground you accuse him, and

with him all those that have approved his _Leviathan_, with atheism.

I thought once, that that slander had had some, though not firm,

ground, in that you call his a new divinity: but for that point he

will allege these words of his Leviathan (p. 438): _By which it

seemeth to me (with submission nevertheless, both in this and all

other questions whereof the determination dependeth on the

Scriptures, to the interpretation of the Bible authorized by the

commonwealth, whose subject I am), that, &c._ What is there in these

words, but modesty and obedience? But you were at this time in

actual rebellion. Mr. Hobbes, that holds religion to be a law, did

in order thereto condemn the maintenance of any of his opinions

against the law; and you that reproach him for them, upon your own

account should also have shown by your own learning, wherein the

Scripture, which was his sole proof, was miscited or misconstrued by

him; (for he submitted to the laws, that is to say, to the King’s

doctrine, not to yours); and not have insulted for the victory won

by the power of the law, to which you were then an enemy.

Another argument of atheism you take from his denying _immaterial_

or _incorporeal substances_. Let any man impartially now compare his

religion with yours, by this very measure, and judge which of the

two savours most of atheism.

It is by all Christians confessed, that God is _incomprehensible_;

that is to say, that there is nothing can arise in our fancy from

the naming of him, to resemble him either in _shape_, _colour_,

_stature_, or _nature_; there is no idea of him; he is like nothing

that we can think on. What then ought we to say of him? What

attributes are to be given him (not speaking otherwise than we

think, nor otherwise than is fit,) by those who mean to honour him?

None but such as Mr. Hobbes hath set down, namely, expressions of

reverence, such as are in use amongst men for signs of honour, and

consequently signify _goodness_, _greatness_, and _happiness_; and

either absolutely put, as _good_, _holy_, _mighty_, _blessed_,

_just_, _wise_, _merciful_, &c., or superlative, as _most good_,

_most great_, _most mighty_, _almighty_, _most holy_, &c., or

negative of whatsoever is not perfect, as _infinite_, _eternal_, and

the like: and not such as neither reason nor Scripture hath approved

for honourable. This is the doctrine that Mr. Hobbes hath written,

both in his _Leviathan_, and in his book _De Cive_, and when

occasion serves, maintains. What kind of attribute, I pray you, is,

_immaterial_, or _incorporeal substance_? Where do you find it in

the Scripture? Whence came it hither, but from Plato and Aristotle,

heathens, who mistook those thin inhabitants of the brain they see

in sleep, for so many _incorporeal_ men; and yet allowed them

motion, which is proper only to things _corporeal_? Do you think it

an honour to God to be one of these? And would you learn

Christianity from Plato and Aristotle? But seeing there is no such

word in the Scripture, how will you warrant it from natural reason?

Neither Plato nor Aristotle did ever write of, or mention, an

_incorporeal spirit_. For they could not conceive how a spirit,

which in their language was πνεῦμα, in ours _a wind_, could be

_incorporeal_. Do you understand the connexion of _substance_ and

_incorporeal_? If you do, explain it in English; for the words are

Latin. It is something, you will say, that being _without body,

stands under_——. Stands under what? Will you say, _under accidents_?

Almost all the Fathers of the Church will be against you; and then

you are an atheist. Is not Mr. Hobbes his way of attributing to God,

that only which the Scriptures attribute to him, or what is never

any where taken but for honour, much better than this bold

undertaking of yours, to consider and decipher God’s _nature_ to us?

For a third argument of atheism, you put, that he says: _besides the

creation of the world, there is no argument to prove a Deity_: and,

_that it cannot be evinced by any argument that the world had a

beginning_; and, _that whether it had or no, is to be decided not by

argument, but by the magistrate’s authority_. That it may be decided

by the Scriptures, he never denied; therefore in that also you

slander him. And as for arguments from natural reason, neither you,

nor any other, have hitherto brought any, except the creation, that

has not made it more doubtful to many men than it was before. That

which he hath written concerning such arguments, in his book _De

Corpore_: _opinions_, saith he (vol. I. p. 412), _concerning the

nature of infinite and eternal, as the chiefest of the fruits of

wisdom, God hath reserved to himself, and made judges of them those

men whose ministry he meant to use in the ordering of religion; and

therefore I cannot praise those men that brag of demonstration of

the beginning of the world from natural reason_: and again (vol. I.

p. 414), _wherefore I pass by those questions of infinite and

eternal, contenting myself with such doctrine concerning the

beginning and magnitude of the world, as I have learned from the

Scripture, confirmed by miracles, and from the use of my country,

and from the reverence I owe to the law_. This, Doctor, is not ill

said, and yet it is all you ground your slander on, which you make

to sneak vilely under a crooked paraphrase.

These opinions, I said, were to be judged by those to whom God has

committed the ordering of religion; that is, to the supreme

governors of the church, that is, in England, to the King: by his

authority, I say, it ought to be decided, not what men shall think,

but what they shall say in those questions. And methinks you should

not dare to deny it; for it is a manifest relapse into your former

crimes.

But why do you style the King by the name of _magistrate_? Do you

find _magistrate_ to signify any where the person that hath the

sovereign power, or not every where the sovereign’s officers. And I

think you knew that; but you and your fellows (your fellows I call

all those that are so besmeared all over with the filth of the same

crime, as not to be distinguished) meant to make your Assembly the

sovereign, and the King your _magistrate_. I pray God you do not

mean so still, if opportunity be presented.

There has hitherto appeared in Mr. Hobbes his doctrine, no sign of

atheism; and whatsoever can be inferred from the denying of

_incorporeal substances_, makes Tertullian, one of the ancientest of

the Fathers, and most of the doctors of the Greek Church, as much

atheists as he. For Tertullian, in his treatise _De Carne Christi_,

says plainly: _omne quod est, corpus est sui generis. Nihil est

incorporale, nisi quod non est_: that is to say, _whatsoever is

anything, is a body of its kind. Nothing is incorporeal, but that

which has no being._ There are many other places in him to the same

purpose: for that doctrine served his turn to confute the heresy of

them that held that Christ had no body, but was a _ghost_; also of

the soul he speaks, as of an invisible body. And there is an epitome

of the doctrine of the Eastern Church, wherein is this, that they

thought angels and souls were _corporeal_, and only called

_incorporeal_, because their bodies were not like ours. And I have

heard that a Patriarch of Constantinople, in a Council held there,

did argue for the lawfulness of painting angels, from this, that

they were _corporeal_. You see what fellows in atheism you join with

Mr. Hobbes.

How unfeigned your own religion is, may be argued strongly,

demonstratively, from your behaviour, that I have already recited.

Do you think, you that have committed so abominable sins, not

through infirmity, or sudden transport of passion, but

premeditately, wilfully, for twenty years together, that any

rational man can think you believe yourselves, when you preach of

heaven and hell, or that you do not believe one another to be cheats

and impostors, and laugh at silly people in your sleeves for

believing you; or that you applaud not your own wit for it; though

for my part I could never conceive that very much wit was requisite

for the making of a knave? And in the pulpit most of you have been a

scandal to Christianity, by preaching up sedition, and crying down

moral virtue. You should have preached against unjust _ambition_,

_covetousness_, _gluttony_, _malice_, _disobedience to government_,

_fraud_, and _hypocrisy_: but for the most part you preached your

own controversies, about who should be uppermost, or other fruitless

and unedifying doctrines. When did any of you preach against

_hypocrisy_? You dare not in the pulpit, I think, so much as name

it, lest you set the church a laughing: and you in particular, when

you said in a sermon, that σοψίης was not in Homer. What edification

could the people have from that, though it had been true, as it is

false? For it is in his _Iliad_, XV. 412. Another I heard make half

his sermon of this doctrine, that _God never sent a great

deliverance, but in a great danger_: which is indeed true, because

the greatness of the danger makes the greatness of the deliverance,

but for the same cause ridiculous; and the other half he took to

construe the Greek of his text: and yet such sermons are much

applauded. But why? First, because they make not the people ashamed

of any vice. Secondly, because they like the preacher, for using to

find fault with the government or governors. Thirdly, for their

vehemence, which they mistake for zeal. Fourthly, for their zeal to

their own ends, which they mistake for zeal to God’s worship. I have

heard besides divers sermons made by fanatics, young men, and whom,

by that and their habit, I imagined to be apprentices; and found

little difference between their sermons, and the sermons of such as

you, either in respect of wisdom, or eloquence, or vehemence, or

applause of common people.

Therefore, I wonder how you can pretend, as you do in your petition

for a dispensation from the ceremonies of the Church, to be either

better preachers than those that conform, or to have tenderer

consciences than other men. You that have covered such black designs

with the sacred words of Scripture, why can you not as well find in

your hearts to cover a black gown with a white surplice? Or what

idolatry do you find in making the sign of the cross, when the law

commands it? Though I think you may conform without sin, yet I think

you might have been also dispensed with without sin, if you had

dispensed in like manner with other ministers that subscribed to the

articles of the Church. And if tenderness of conscience be a good

plea, you must give Mr. Hobbes also leave to plead tenderness of

conscience to his new Divinity, as well as you. I should wonder

also, how any of you should dare to speak to a multitude met

together, without being limited by his Majesty what they shall say,

especially now that we have felt the smart of it, but that it is a

relic of the ecclesiastical policy of the Popes, that found it

necessary for the disjoining of the people from their too close

adherence to their Kings or other civil governors.

But it may be you will say, that the rest of the clergy, bishops,

and episcopal men, no friends of yours, and against whose office Mr.

Hobbes never writ anything, speak no better of his religion than you

do.

It is true, he never wrote against episcopacy; and it is his private

opinion, that such an episcopacy as is now in England, is the most

commodious that a Christian King can use for the governing of

Christ’s flock; the misgoverning whereof the King is to answer for

to Christ, as the bishops are to answer for their misgovernment to

the King, and to God also. Nor ever spake he ill of any of them, as

to their persons: therefore I should wonder the more at the

uncharitable censure of some of them, but that I see a relic still

remaining of the venom of popish ambition, lurking in that seditious

_distinction_ and _division_ between the power _spiritual_ and

_civil_; which they that are in love with a power to hurt all those

that stand in competition with them for learning, as the Roman

clergy had to hurt Galileo, do not willingly forsake. All bishops

are not in every point like one another. Some, it may be, are

content to hold their authority from the King’s letters patents; and

these have no cause to be angry with Mr. Hobbes. Others will needs

have somewhat more, they know not what, of divine right, to govern

by virtue of _imposition of hands_, and _consecration_, not

acknowledging their power from the King, but immediately from

Christ. And these perhaps are they that are displeased with him,

which he cannot help, nor has deserved; but will for all that

believe the King only, and without sharers, to be the head of all

the Churches within his own dominions; and that he may dispense with

ceremonies, or with anything else that is not against the

Scriptures, nor against natural equity; and that the consent of the

Lords and Commons cannot now give him that power, but declare, for

the people, their advice and consent to it. Nor can he be made

believe that the safety of a state depends upon the safety of the

Church, I mean of the clergy. For neither is a clergy essential to a

commonwealth; and those ministers that preached sedition, pretend to

be of the clergy, as well as the best. He believes rather that the

safety of the Church depends on the safety of the King, and the

entireness of the sovereign power; and that the King is no part of

the flock of any minister or bishop, no more than the shepherd is of

his sheep, but of Christ only; and all the clergy, as well as the

people, the King’s flock. Nor can that clamour of his adversaries

make Mr. Hobbes think himself a worse Christian than the best of

them. And how will you disprove it, either by his disobedience, to

the laws _civil_ or _ecclesiastical_, or by any ugly action? Or how

will you prove that the obedience, which springs from scorn of

injustice, is less acceptable to God, than that which proceeds from

fear of punishment, or hope of benefit. Gravity and heaviness of

countenance are not so good marks of assurance of God’s favour, as

cheerful, charitable, and upright behaviour towards men, which are

better signs of religion than the zealous maintaining of

controverted doctrines. And therefore I am verily persuaded, it was

not his Divinity that displeased you or them, but somewhat else,

which you are not willing to pretend. As for your party, that which

angered you, I believe, was this passage of his _Leviathan_ (vol.

iii. p. 160); _Whereas some men have pretended for their

disobedience to their sovereign, a new covenant made, not with men,

but with God; this also is unjust. For there is no covenant with

God, but by mediation of somebody that represented God’s person;

which none doth but God’s lieutenant, who hath the sovereignty under

God. But this pretence of covenant with God, is so evident a lie_,

(this is it that angered you), _even in the pretenders' own

consciences, that it is not only an act of an unjust, but also of a

vile and unmanly disposition_.

Besides, his making the King judge of doctrines to be preached or

published, hath offended you both; so has also his attributing to

the civil sovereign all power _sacerdotal_. But this perhaps may

seem hard, when the sovereignty is in a Queen. But it is because you

are not subtle enough to perceive, that though _man_ be _male_ and

_female_, _authority_ is not. To please neither party is easy; but

to please both, unless you could better agree amongst yourselves

than you do, is impossible. Your differences have troubled the

kingdom, as if you were the houses revived of York and Lancaster. A

man would wonder how a little Latin and Greek should work so

mightily, when the Scriptures are in English, as that the King and

Parliament can hardly keep you quiet, especially in time of danger

from abroad. If you will needs quarrel, decide it amongst

yourselves, and draw not the people into your parties.

You were angry also for his blaming the scholastical philosophers,

and denying such fine things as these: _that the species or

apparences of bodies come from the thing we look on, into the eye,

and so make us see; and into the understanding, to make us

understand; and into the memory, to make us remember: that a body

may be just the same it was, and yet bigger or lesser: that eternity

is a permanent now_; and the like: and for detecting, further than

you thought fit, the fraud of the Roman clergy. Your dislike of his

divinity, was the least cause of your calling him atheist. But no

more of this now.

The next head of your contumelies is to make him contemptible, and

to move Mr. Boyle to pity him. This is a way of railing too much

beaten to be thought witty. As for the thing itself, I doubt your

intelligence is not good, and that you algebricians, and

non-conformists, do but feign it, to comfort one another. For your

own part, you contemn him not, or else you did very foolishly to

entitle the beginning of your book, _Mr. Hobbes considered_; which

argues he is considerable enough to you. Besides, it is no argument

of contempt, to spend upon him so many angry lines as would have

furnished you with a dozen of sermons. If you had in good earnest

despised him, you would have let him alone, as he does Dr. Ward, Mr.

Baxter, Pike, and others, that have reviled him as you do. As for

his reputation beyond the seas, it fades not yet: and because

perhaps you have no means to know it, I will cite you a passage of

an Epistle, written by a learned Frenchman to an eminent person in

France, a passage not impertinent to the point now in question. It

is in a volume of Epistles, the fourth in order, and the words (page

167) concerning chemists, are these: _Truly, Sir, as much as I

admire them, when I see them lute an alembic handsomely, filter a

liquor, build an athanor, so much I dislike them when I hear them

discourse upon the subject of their operations; and yet they think

all they do, is nothing in respect of what they say. I wish they

would take less pains, and be at less charges; and whilst they wash

their hands after their work, they would leave to those that attend

to the polishing of their discourse, I mean, the Galileos, the

Descarteses, the Hobbeses, the Bacons, and the Gassendis, to reason

upon their work, and themselves to hear what the learned and

judicious shall tell them, such as are used to discern the

differences of things. Quam scit uterque libens censebo exerceat

artem._ And more to the same purpose.

What is here said of chymists, is applicable to all other mechanics.

Every man that hath spare money, can get furnaces, and buy coals.

Every man that hath spare money, can be at the charge of making

great moulds, and hiring workmen to grind their glasses; and so may

have the best and greatest telescopes. They can get engines made,

and apply them to the stars; recipients made, and try conclusions;

but they are never the more philosophers for all this. It is

laudable, I confess, to bestow money upon curious or useful

delights; but that is none of the praises of a philosopher. And yet,

because the multitude cannot judge, they will pass with the

unskilful, for skilful in all parts of natural philosophy. And I

hear now, that Hugenius and Eustachio Divini are to be tried by

their glasses, who is the more skilful in _optics_ of the two; but

for my part, before Mr. Hobbes his book _De Homine_ came forth, I

never saw any thing written on that subject intelligibly. Do not you

tell me now, according to your wonted ingenuity, that I never saw

Euclid’s, Vitellio’s, and many other men’s _Optics_; as if I could

not distinguish between _geometry_ and _optics_.

So also of all other arts; not every one that brings from beyond

seas a new gin, or other jaunty device, is therefore a philosopher.

For if you reckon that way, not only apothecaries and gardeners, but

many other sorts of workmen, will put in for, and get the prize.

Then, when I see the gentlemen of Gresham College apply themselves

to the doctrine of motion, (as Mr. Hobbes has done, and will be

ready to help them in it, if they please, and so long as they use

him civilly,) I will look to know some causes of natural events from

them, and their register, and not before: for nature does nothing

but by motion.

I hear that the reason given by Mr. Hobbes, why the drop of glass so

much wondered at, shivers into so many pieces, by breaking only one

small part of it, is approved for probable, and registered in their

college. But he has no reason to take it for a favour: because

hereafter the invention may be taken, by that means, not for his,

but theirs.

To the rest of your calumnies the answers will be short, and such as

you might easily have foreseen. And first, for his boasting of his

learning, it is well summed up by you in these words: _It was a

motion made by one, whom I will not name, that some idle person

should read over all his books, and collecting together his arrogant

and supercilious speeches, applauding himself, and despising all

other men, set them forth in one synopsis, with this title_, Hobbius

de se. _What a pretty piece of pageantry this would make, I shall

leave to your own thoughts._

Thus say you: now says Mr. Hobbes, or I for him, let your idle

person do it, and set down no more than he has written, as high

praises as they be, I will promise you he shall acknowledge them

under his hand, and be commended for it, and you scorned. A certain

Roman senator having propounded something in the assembly of the

people, which they misliking made a noise at, boldly bade them hold

their peace, and told them he knew better what was good for the

commonwealth than all they. And his words are transmitted to us as

an argument of his virtue; so much do truth and vanity alter the

complexion of self-praise. Besides, you can have very little skill

in morality, that cannot see the justice of commending a man’s self,

as well as of anything else, in his own defence: and it was want of

prudence in you, to constrain him to a thing that would so much

displease you. That part of his self-praise which most offends you,

is in the end of his _Leviathan_ (page 713), in these words:

_Therefore I think it may be profitably printed, and more profitably

taught in the Universities, in case they also think so, to whom the

judgment of the same belongeth_. Let any man consider the truth of

it. Where did those ministers learn their seditious doctrine, and to

preach it, but there? Where therefore should preachers learn to

teach loyalty, but there? And if your principles produced civil war,

must not the contrary principles, which are his, produce peace? And

consequently his book, as far as it handles civil doctrine, deserves

to be taught there. But when can this be done? When you shall have

no longer an army ready to maintain the evil doctrine wherewith you

have infected the people. By a ready army, I mean arms, and money,

and men enough, though not yet in pay, and put under officers, yet

gathered together in one place or city, to be put under officers,

armed, and paid on any sudden occasion; such as are the people of a

great and populous town. Every great city is as a standing army,

which if it be not under the sovereign’s command, the people are

miserable; if they be, they may be taught their duties in the

Universities safely and easily, and be happy. I never read of any

Christian king that was a tyrant, though the best of kings have been

called so.

Then for the _morosity_ and _peevishness_ you charge him with, all

that know him familiarly, know it is a false accusation. But you

mean, it may be, only towards those that argue against his opinion;

but neither is that true. When vain and ignorant young scholars,

unknown to him before, come to him on purpose to argue with him, and

to extort applause for their foolish opinions; and, missing of their

end, fall into indiscreet and uncivil expressions, and he then

appear not very well contented: it is not his _morosity_, but their

_vanity_ that should be blamed. But what humour, if not morosity and

peevishness, was that of yours, whom he never had injured, or seen,

or heard of, to use toward him such insolent, injurious, and

clownish words, as you did in your absurd _Elenchus_?

Was it not impatience of seeing any dissent from you in opinion? Mr.

Hobbes has been always far from provoking any man, though when he is

provoked, you find his pen as sharp as yours.

Again, when you make his age a reproach to him, and show no cause

that might impair the faculties of his mind, but only age, I admire

how you saw not that you reproached all old men in the world as much

as him, and warranted all young men, at a certain time, which they

themselves shall define, to call you _fool_. Your dislike of old

age, you have also otherwise sufficiently signified, in venturing so

fairly as you have done to escape it. But that is no great matter to

one that hath so many marks upon him of much greater reproaches. By

Mr. Hobbes his calculation, that derives prudence from experience,

and experience from age, you are a very young man; but by your own

reckoning, you are older already than Methuselah.

Lastly, who told you that he writ against Mr. Boyle, whom in his

writing he never mentioned, and that it was, because Mr. Boyle was

acquainted with you? I know the contrary. I have heard him wish it

had been some person of lower condition, that had been the author of

the doctrine which he opposed, and therefore opposed because it was

false, and because his own could not otherwise be defended. But thus

much I think is true, that he thought never the better of his

judgment, for mistaking you for learned. This is all I thought fit

to answer for him and his manners. The rest is of his geometry and

philosophy, concerning which, I say only this, that there is too

much in your book to be confuted; almost every line may be

disproved, or ought to be reprehended. In sum, it is all error and

railing, that is, stinking wind; such as a jade lets fly, when he is

too hard girt upon a full belly. I have done. I have considered you

now, but will not again, whatsoever preferment any of your friends

shall procure you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE ANSWER

OF

MR. HOBBES

TO

SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT’S

PREFACE BEFORE GONDIBERT.

THE ANSWER

TO THE PREFACE TO GONDIBERT.

SIR,

If to commend your poem, I should only say, in general terms, that

in the choice of your argument, the disposition of the parts, the

maintenance of the characters of your persons, the dignity and

vigour of your expression, you have performed all the parts of

various experience, ready memory, clear judgment, swift and

well-governed fancy: though it were enough for the truth, it were

too little for the weight and credit of my testimony. For I lie open

to two exceptions, one of an incompetent, the other of a corrupted

witness. Incompetent, because I am not a poet; and corrupted with

the honour done me by your preface. The former obliges me to say

something, by the way, of the nature and differences of poesy.

As philosophers have divided the universe, their subject, into three

regions, _celestial_, _aerial_, and _terrestial_; so the poets,

whose work it is, by imitating human life, in delightful and

measured lines, to avert men from vice, and incline them to virtuous

and honourable actions, have lodged themselves in the three regions

of mankind, _court_, _city_, and _country_, correspondent, in some

proportion, to those three regions of the world. For there is in

princes, and men of conspicuous power, anciently called _heroes_, a

lustre and influence upon the rest of men, resembling that of the

heavens; and an insincereness, inconstancy, and troublesome humour

in those that dwell in populous cities, like the mobility,

blustering, and impurity of the air; and a plainness, and, though

dull, yet a nutritive faculty in rural people, that endures a

comparison with the earth they labour.

From hence have proceeded three sorts of poesy, _heroic_,

_scommatic_, and _pastoral_. Every one of these is distinguished

again in the manner of _representation_; which sometimes is

_narrative_, wherein the poet himself relateth; and sometimes

_dramatic_, as when the persons are every one adorned and brought

upon the theatre, to speak and act their own parts. There is

therefore neither more nor less than six sorts of poesy. For the

heroic poem narrative, such as is yours, is called an _epic_ poem;

the heroic poem dramatic, is _tragedy_. The scommatic narrative is

_satire_; dramatic is _comedy_. The pastoral narrative, is called

simply _pastoral_, anciently _bucolic_; the same dramatic, _pastoral

comedy_. The figure therefore of an epic poem, and of a tragedy,

ought to be the same: for they differ no more but in that they are

pronounced by one, or many persons; which I insert to justify the

figure of yours, consisting of five books divided into songs, or

cantos; as five acts divided into scenes, has ever been the approved

figure of a tragedy.

They that take for poesy whatsoever is writ in verse, will think

this division imperfect, and call in sonnets, epigrams, eclogues,

and the like pieces, which are but essays, and parts of an entire

poem; and reckon Empedocles and Lucretius, natural philosophers, for

poets; and the moral precepts of Phocylides Theognis, and the

quatrains of Pybrach, and the history of Lucan, and others of that

kind, amongst poems: bestowing on such writers, for honour, the name

of poets, rather than of historians or philosophers. But the subject

of a poem is the manners of men, not natural causes; manners

presented, not dictated; and manners feigned, as the name of poesy

imports, not found in men. They that give entrance to fictions writ

in prose, err not so much; but they err; for prose requireth

delightfulness, not only of fiction, but of style; in which if prose

contend with verse, it is with disadvantage and, as it were, on foot

against the strength and wings of Pegasus.

For verse amongst the Greeks was appropriated anciently to the

service of their Gods, and was the holy style; the style of the

oracles; the style of the laws; and the style of the men that

publicly recommended to their Gods the vows and thanks of the

people, which was done in their holy songs called hymns; and the

composers of them were called prophets and priests, before the name

of poet was known. When afterwards the majesty of that style was

observed, the poets chose it as best becoming their high invention.

And for the antiquity of verse, it is greater than the antiquity of

letters. For it is certain, Cadmus was the first that from Phœnicia,

a country that neighboureth Judea, brought the use of letters into

Greece. But the service of the Gods, and the laws, which by measured

sounds were easily committed to the memory, had been long time in

use before the arrival of Cadmus there.

There is, besides the grace of style, another cause why the ancient

poets chose to write in measured language; which is this. Their

poems were made at first with intention to have them sung, as well

epic as dramatic (which custom hath been long time laid aside, but

began to be revived in part, of late years, in Italy,) and could not

be made commensurable to the voice or instruments, in prose; the

ways and motions whereof are so uncertain and undistinguished, like

the way and motion of a ship in the sea, as not only to discompose

the best composers, but also to disappoint sometimes the most

attentive reader, and put him to hunt counter for the sense. It was

therefore necessary for poets in those times to write in verse.

The verse which the Greeks and Latins, considering the nature of

their own languages, found by experience most grave, and for an epic

poem most decent, was their _hexameter_; a verse limited not only in

the length of the line, but also in the quantity of the syllables.

Instead of which we use the line of ten syllables, recompensing the

neglect of their quantity with the diligence of rhyme. And this

measure is so proper to an heroic poem, as without some loss of

gravity or dignity, it was never changed. A longer is not far from

ill prose; and a shorter, is a kind of whisking, you know, like the

unlacing, rather than the singing of a muse. In an epigram or a

sonnet, a man may vary his measures, and seek glory from a needless

difficulty; as he that contrived verses into the forms of an organ,

a hatchet, an egg, an altar, and a pair of wings; but in so great

and noble a work as is an epic poem, for a man to obstruct his own

way with unprofitable difficulties, is great imprudence. So likewise

to choose a needless and difficult correspondence of rhyme, is but a

difficult toy, and forces a man sometimes, for the stopping of a

chink, to say somewhat he did never think. I cannot therefore but

very much approve your _stanza_, wherein the syllables in every

verse are ten, and the rhyme alternate.

For the choice of your subject you have sufficiently justified

yourself in your preface. But because I have observed in Virgil,

that the honour done to Æneas and his companions, has so bright a

reflection upon Augustus Cæsar, and other great Romans of that time,

as a man may suspect him not constantly possessed with the noble

spirit of those his heroes; and I believe you are not acquainted

with any great man of the race of Gondibert, I add to your

justification the purity of your purpose, in having no other motive

of your labour, but to adorn virtue, and procure her lovers; than

which there cannot be a worthier design, and more becoming noble

poesy.

In that you make so small account of the example of almost all the

approved poets, ancient and modern, who thought fit in the

beginning, and sometimes also in the progress of their poems, to

invoke a Muse, or some other deity, that should dictate to them, or

assist them in their writings; they that take not the laws of art,

from any reason of their own, but from the fashion of precedent

times, will perhaps accuse your singularity. For my part, I neither

subscribe to their accusation, nor yet condemn that heathen custom,

otherwise than as accessory to their false religion. For their poets

were their divines; had the name of prophets; exercised amongst the

people a kind of spiritual authority; would be thought to speak by a

divine spirit; have their works which they writ in verse (the divine

style) pass for the word of God, and not of man, and to be hearkened

to with reverence. Do not the divines, excepting the style, do the

same, and by us that are of the same religion cannot justly be

reprehended for it? Besides, in the use of the spiritual calling of

divines, there is danger sometimes to be feared, from want of skill,

such as is reported of unskilful conjurers, that mistaking the rites

and ceremonious points of their art, call up such spirits, as they

cannot at their pleasure allay again; by whom storms are raised,

that overthrow buildings, and are the cause of miserable wrecks at

sea. Unskilful divines do oftentimes the like; for when they call

unseasonably for _zeal_, there appears a spirit of _cruelty_; and by

the like error, instead of _truth_, they raise _discord_; instead of

_wisdom_, _fraud_; instead of _reformation_, _tumult_; and

_controversy_, instead of _religion_. Whereas in the heathen poets,

at least in those whose works have lasted to the time we are in,

there are none of those indiscretions to be found, that tended to

the subversion, or disturbance of the commonwealths wherein they

lived. But why a Christian should think it an ornament to his poem,

either to profane the true God, or invoke a false one, I can imagine

no cause, but a reasonless imitation of custom; of a foolish custom,

by which a man enabled to speak wisely from the principles of

nature, and his own meditation, loves rather to be thought to speak

by inspiration, like a bagpipe.

Time and education beget experience; experience begets memory;

memory begets judgment and fancy; judgment begets the strength and

structure, and fancy begets the ornaments of a poem. The ancients

therefore fabled not absurdly, in making Memory the mother of the

Muses. For memory is the world, though not really, yet so as in a

looking-glass, in which the judgment, the severer sister, busieth

herself in a grave and rigid examination of all the parts of nature,

and in registering by letters their order, causes, uses,

differences, and resemblances; whereby the fancy, when any work of

art is to be performed, finds her materials at hand and prepared for

use, and needs no more than a swift motion over them, that what she

wants, and is there to be had, may not lie too long unespied. So

that when she seemeth to fly from one Indies to the other, and from

heaven to earth, and to penetrate into the hardest matter and

obscurest places, into the future, and into herself, and all this in

a point of time, the voyage is not very great, herself being all she

seeks. And her wonderful celerity, consisteth not so much in motion,

as in copious imagery discreetly ordered, and perfectly registered

in the memory; which most men under the name of philosophy have a

glimpse of, and is pretended to by many, that grossly mistaking her,

embrace contention in her place. But so far forth as the fancy of

man has traced the ways of true philosophy, so far it hath produced

very marvellous effects to the benefit of mankind. All that is

beautiful or defensible in building; or marvellous in engines and

instruments of motion; whatsoever commodity men receive from the

observations of the heavens, from the description of the earth, from

the account of time, from walking on the seas; and whatsoever

distinguisheth the civility of Europe, from the barbarity of the

American savages; is the workmanship of fancy, but guided by the

precepts of true philosophy. But where these precepts fail, as they

have hitherto failed in the doctrine of moral virtue, there the

architect Fancy must take the philosopher’s part upon herself. He,

therefore, who undertakes an heroic poem, which is to exhibit a

venerable and amiable image of heroic virtue, must not only be the

poet, to place and connect, but also the philosopher, to furnish and

square his matter; that is, to make both body and soul, colour and

shadow of his poem out of his own store; which, how well you have

performed I am now considering.

Observing how few the persons be you introduce in the beginning, and

how in the course of the actions of these, the number increasing,

after several confluences, they run all at last into the two

principal streams of your poem, _Gondibert and Oswald_, methinks the

fable is not much unlike the theatre. For so, from several and far

distant sources, do the lesser brooks of Lombardy, flowing into one

another, fall all at last into the two main rivers, the Po and the

Adige. It hath the same resemblance also with a man’s veins, which

proceeding from different parts, after the like concourse, insert

themselves at last into the two principal veins of the body. But

when I considered that also the actions of men, which singly are

inconsiderable, after many conjunctures, grow at last either into

one great protecting power, or into two destroying factions, I could

not but approve the structure of your poem, which ought to be no

other than such as an imitation of human life requireth.

In the streams themselves I find nothing but settled valour, clean

honour, calm counsel, learned diversion, and pure love; save only a

torrent or two of ambition, which, though a fault, has somewhat

heroic in it, and therefore must have place in an heroic poem. To

shew the reader in what place he shall find every excellent picture

of virtue you have drawn, is too long. And to show him one, is to

prejudice the rest; yet I cannot forbear to point him to the

description of love in the person of Bertha, in the seventh canto of

the second book. There has nothing been said of that subject,

neither by the ancient nor modern poets, comparable to it. Poets are

painters; I would fain see another painter draw so true, perfect,

and natural a love to the life, and make use of nothing but pure

lines, without the help of any the least uncomely shadow, as you

have done. But let it be read as a piece by itself: for in the

almost equal height of the whole, the eminence of parts is lost.

There are some that are not pleased with fiction, unless it be bold;

not only to exceed the _work_, but also the _possibility_ of nature;

they would have impenetrable armours, enchanted castles,

invulnerable bodies, iron men, flying horses, and a thousand other

such things, which are easily feigned by them that dare. Against

such I defend you, without assenting to those that condemn either

Homer or Virgil; by dissenting only from those that think the beauty

of a poem consisteth in the exorbitancy of the fiction. For as truth

is the bound of historical, so the resemblance of truth is the

utmost limit of poetical liberty. In old time amongst the heathen,

such strange fictions and metamorphoses were not so remote from the

articles of their faith, as they are now from ours, and therefore

were not so unpleasant. Beyond the actual works of nature a poet may

now go; but beyond the conceived possibility of nature, never. I can

allow a geographer to make in the sea, a fish or a ship, which by

the scale of his map would be two or three hundred miles long, and

think it done for ornament, because it is done without the precincts

of his undertaking: but when he paints an elephant so, I presently

apprehend it as ignorance, and a plain confession of _terra

incognita_.

As the description of great men and great actions is the constant

design of a poet; so the descriptions of worthy circumstances are

necessary accessions to a poem, and being well performed, are the

jewels and most precious ornaments of poesy. Such in Virgil are the

funeral games of Anchises, the duel of Æneas and Turnus, &c. And

such in yours, are _the Hunting_, _the Battle_, _the City Mourning_,

_the Funeral_, _the House of Astragon_, _the Library and the

Temple_; equal to his, or those of Homer whom he imitated.

There remains now no more to be considered but the expression, in

which consisteth the countenance and colour of a beautiful Muse; and

is given her by the poet out of his own provision, or is borrowed

from others. That which he hath of his own, is nothing but

experience and knowledge of nature, and specially human nature; and

is the true and natural colour. But that which is taken out of

books, the ordinary boxes of counterfeit complexion, shows well or

ill, as it hath more or less resemblance with the natural; and are

not to be used without examination unadvisedly. For in him that

professes the imitation of nature, as all poets do, what greater

fault can there be, than to betray an ignorance of nature in his

poem; especially, having a liberty allowed him, if he meet with any

thing he cannot master, to leave it out?

That which giveth a poem the true and natural colour, consisteth in

two things; which are, _to know well_, that is, to have images of

nature in the memory distinct and clear; and _to know much_. A sign

of the first is perspicuity, propriety, and decency; which delight

all sorts of men, either by instructing the ignorant, or soothing

the learned in their knowledge. A sign of the latter is novelty of

expression, and pleaseth by excitation of the mind; for novelty

causeth admiration, and admiration curiosity, which is a delightful

appetite of knowledge.

There be so many words in use at this day in the English tongue,

that, though of magnific sound, yet like the windy blisters of

troubled waters, have no sense at all, and so many others that lose

their meaning by being ill coupled; that it is a hard matter to

avoid them. For having been obtruded upon youth in the schools, by

such as make it, I think, their business there, as it is expressed

by the best poet

“With terms to charm the weak and pose the wise,”

GONDIBERT, Book ii. Canto 5, verse 44.

they grow up with them, and gaining reputation with the ignorant,

are not easily shaken off.

To this palpable darkness, I may also add the ambitious obscurity of

expressing more than is perfectly conceived; or perfect conception

in fewer words than it requires. Which expressions, though they have

had the honour to be called strong lines, are indeed no better than

riddles, and not only to the reader, but also after a little time to

the writer himself, dark and troublesome.

To the propriety of expression I refer that clearness of memory, by

which a poet when he hath once introduced any person whatsoever,

speaking in his poem, maintaineth in him to the end the same

character he gave him in the beginning. The variation whereof, is a

change of pace, that argues the poet tired.

Of the indecencies of an heroic poem, the most remarkable are those

that show disproportion either between the persons and their

actions, or between the manners of the poet and the poem. Of the

first kind, is the uncomeliness of representing in great persons the

inhuman vice of cruelty, or the sordid vices of lust and

drunkenness. To such parts, as those the ancient approved poets

thought it fit to suborn, not the persons of men, but of monsters

and beastly giants, such as Polyphemus, Cacus, and the Centaurs. For

it is supposed a Muse, when she is invoked to sing a song of that

nature, should maidenly advise the poet to set such persons to sing

their own vices upon the stage; for it is not so unseemly in a

_tragedy_. Of the same kind it is to represent scurrility, or any

action or language that moveth much laughter. The delight of an

_epic_ poem consisteth not in mirth, but admiration. Mirth and

laughter are proper to _comedy_ and _satire_. Great persons, that

have their minds employed on great designs, have not leisure enough

to laugh, and are pleased with the contemplation of their own power

and virtues, so as they need not the infirmities and vices of other

men to recommend themselves to their own favour by comparison, as

all men do when they laugh. Of the second kind, where the

disproportion is between the poet and the persons of his poem, one

is in the dialect of the inferior sort of people, which is always

different from the language of the court. Another is, to derive the

illustration of any thing from such metaphors or comparisons as

cannot come into men’s thoughts, but by mean conversation, and

experience of humble or evil arts, which the person of an epic poem

cannot be thought acquainted with.

From _knowing much_, proceedeth the admirable variety and novelty of

metaphors and similitudes, which are not possible to be lighted on

in the compass of a narrow knowledge. And the want whereof

compelleth a writer to expressions that are either defaced by time,

or sullied with vulgar or long use. For the phrases of poesy, as the

airs of music, with often hearing become insipid; the reader having

no more sense of their force, than our flesh is sensible of the

bones that sustain it. As the sense we have of bodies, consisteth in

change of variety of impression, so also does the sense of language

in the variety and changeable use of words. I mean not in the

affectation of words newly brought home from travel, but in new, and

withal significant, translation to our purposes, of those that be

already received; and in far-fetched, but withal, apt, instructive,

and comely similitudes.

Having thus, I hope, avoided the first exception, against the

incompetency of my judgment, I am but little moved with the second,

which is of being bribed by the honour you have done me, by

attributing in your preface somewhat to my judgment. For I have used

your judgment no less in many things of mine, which coming to light

will thereby appear the better. And so you have your bribe again.

Having thus made way for the admission of my testimony, I give it

briefly thus. I never yet saw poem, that had so much shape of art,

health of morality, and vigour and beauty of expression, as this of

yours. And but for the clamour of the multitude, that hide their

envy of the present under a reverence of antiquity, I should say

further, that it would last as long as either the _Æneid_, or

_Iliad_, but for one disadvantage; and the disadvantage is this; the

languages of the Greeks and Romans, by their colonies and conquests,

have put off flesh and blood, and are become immutable, which none

of the modern tongues are like to be. I honour antiquity; but that

which is commonly called _old time_, is _young time_. The glory of

antiquity is due, not to the dead, but to the aged.

And now, whilst I think of it, give me leave with a short discord to

sweeten the harmony of the approaching close. I have nothing to

object against your poem; but dissent only from something in your

preface, sounding to the prejudice of age. It is commonly said, that

old age is a return to childhood. Which methinks you insist on so

long, as if you desired it should be believed. That is the note I

mean to shake a little. That saying, meant only of the weakness of

body, was wrested to the weakness of mind, by froward children,

weary of the controlment of their parents, masters, and other

admonitors. Secondly, the dotage and childishness they ascribe to

age, is never the effect of time, but sometimes of the excesses of

youth, and not a returning to, but a continual stay, with childhood.

For they that wanting the curiosity of furnishing their memories

with the rarities of nature in their youth, pass their time in

making provision only for their ease and sensual delight, are

children still at what years soever; as they that coming into a

populous city, never going out of their inn, are strangers still,

how long soever they have been there. Thirdly, there is no reason

for any man to think himself wiser to-day than yesterday, which does

not equally convince he shall be wiser to-morrow than to-day.

Fourthly, you will be forced to change your opinion hereafter when

you are old; and in the mean time you discredit all I have said

before in your commendation, because I am old already. But no more

of this.

I believe, Sir, you have seen a curious kind of perspective, where

he that looks through a short hollow pipe upon a picture containing

divers figures, sees none of those that are there painted, but some

one person made up of their parts, conveyed to the eye by the

artificial cutting of a glass. I find in my imagination an effect

not unlike it, from your poem. The virtues you distribute there

amongst so many noble persons, represent, in the reading, the image

but of one man’s virtue to my fancy, which is your own; and that so

deeply imprinted, as to stay for ever there, and govern all the rest

of my thoughts and affections in the way of honouring and serving

you to the utmost of my power, that am,

Sir,

Your most humble and obedient servant,

THOMAS HOBBES.

_Paris, Jan. 10, 1650._

-------

LETTER TO THE

RIGHT HONOURABLE EDW. HOWARD.[B]

TO THE RIGHT HON. MR. EDWARD HOWARD.

SIR,

My judgment in poetry hath, you know, been once already censured by

very good wits, for commending _Gondibert_; but yet they have not, I

think, disabled my testimony. For what authority is there in wit? A

jester may have it; a man in drink may have it; be fluent over

night, and wise and dry in the morning. What is it? Or who can tell

whether it be better to have it or be without it, especially if it

be a pointed wit? I will take my liberty to praise what I like, as

well as they do to reprehend what they do not like. Your poem, Sir,

contains a well and judiciously contrived story, full of admirable

and heroic actions, set forth in noble and perspicuous language,

such as becomes the dignity of the persons you introduce: which two

things of themselves are the heighth of poetry. I know that variety

of story, true or feigned, is the thing wherewith the reader is

entertained most delightfully. And this also to the smallness of the

volume is not wanting. Yours is but one small piece; whereas the

poets that are with us so much admired, have taken larger subjects.

But let an English reader, in Homer or Virgil in English, by

whomsoever translated, read one piece by itself, no greater than

yours; I may make a question whether he will be less pleased with

yours than his. I know you do not equal your poem to either of

theirs: the bulk of the work does not distinguish the art of the

workman. [The Battle of Mice and Frogs may be owned without

disparagement by Homer himself. Yet if Homer had written nothing

else, he never had had the reputation of so admirable a poet as he

was.][C] Ajax was a man of very great stature, and Teucer a very

little person: yet he was brother to Ajax, both in blood and

chivalry. I commend your poem for judgment, not for bulk; and am

assured it will be welcome to the world with its own confidence;

though if it come forth armed with verses and epistles, I cannot

tell what to think of it. For the great wits will think themselves

threatened, and rebel. Unusual fortifications upon the borders,

carry with them a suspicion of hostility. And poets will think such

letters of commendation a kind of confederacy and league, tending to

usurp upon their liberty. [I have told you my judgment, and you may

make use of it as you please. But I remember a line or two in your

poem, that touched upon divinity, wherein we differed in opinion.

But since you say the book is licensed, I shall think no more upon

it, but only reserve my liberty of dissenting, which I know you will

allow me.][D] I rest,

Sir,

Your most humble and obedient servant,

THOMAS HOBBES.

_Chatsworth,

October the 24th, 1668._

Footnote B:

This letter is here printed from the autograph of Mr. Hobbes, now

in the possession of Rowland Eyles Egerton Warburton, Esq. of

Arley Hall, Cheshire. The same letter, with the variations

hereafter noticed, was prefixed to Mr. Howard’s poem, “_The

British Princes_,” published in 1669: it is there addressed “_To

the Honourable Edward Howard, Esq. on his intended impression of

his poem of the 'British Princes,'_” and is subscribed,

“_I need say no more, but rest,

Your Honour’s most humble and obedient servant_,

THOMAS HOBBS.

_Chatsworth, Nov. the 6th, 1668._”

Footnote C:

The passage between brackets is omitted in the letter prefixed to

the _British Princes_, and the following is substituted for it:

“_Besides 'tis a virtue in a poet to advance the honour of his

remotest ancestors, especially when it has not been done before.

What, though you out-go the limits of certain history? Do

painters, when they paint the face of the earth, leave a blank

beyond what they know? Do not they fill up the space with strange

rocks, monsters, and other gallantry, to fix their work in the

memory of men by the delight of fancy? So will your readers from

this poem think honourably of their original, which is a kind of

piety._”

Footnote D:

This passage is omitted in the “_British Princes_.”

END OF VOL. IV.

------------------------------------

G. RICHARDS, PRINTER, 100, ST. MARTIN'S LANE.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY JOHN BOHN.

-------

_To be completed in 12 Vols. 8vo. each 12s. cloth lettered_,

THE COMPLETE WORKS

OF

THOMAS HOBBES

OF MALMESBURY,

NOW FIRST COLLECTED AND EDITED

BY

SIR WILLIAM MOLESWORTH, BART. M.P.

-------

Although the close reasoning of HOBBES, expressed in beautiful

language, has created a host of admirers, yet, owing to the

excessive rarity of his detached writings, many of which have never

been reprinted, no complete set of his works is to be found in any

one of our public or private libraries. To remedy this evil, and to

present an edition worthy of the Author, the Editor has collected

together the various pieces, and at his own cost has determined to

reprint them uniformly, in the best style of modern typography. Five

volumes (I. II. of the Latin, and I. III. and IV. of the English

works) are already published, and the remainder will follow as

speedily as a due regard to correctness will allow.

As the impression is limited, and the price of each volume (between

500 and 600 pages, with Engravings) is unusually low, the Publisher

has every reason to expect that within a short period the whole of

the copies will be subscribed for, and therefore would earnestly

recommend an early application, to prevent disappointment.

An excellent analysis of this author’s writings will be found in Mr.

Hallam’s able Introduction to the Literature of Europe, and the

following testimonies in favour of his style will convey some idea

of the estimation in which his writings are held.

“Hobbes’ language is so lucid and concise that it would almost be as

improper to put an algebraical process in different terms as some of

his metaphysical paragraphs.”—HALLAM.

“A permanent foundation of his fame consists in his admirable style,

which seems to be the very perfection of didactic language.“—SIR

JAMES MACKINTOSH.

“Here let us do justice to that great man’s memory, at a time his

writings seem to be entirely neglected, who, with all his errors, we

must allow to be one of the first men of his age, for a bright wit,

a deep penetration, and a cultivated understanding.”—BP. WARBURTON.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

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In crown 8vo. price 8_s._ in extra boards,

=An Apology=

FOR

=Cathedral Service.=

“_Apology for the Bible? I didn’t know that the

Bible wanted any apology._”—KING GEORGE III.

“This is a very delightful work, and contains much more than its

title implies. The style is quaint and original, and reminds us of

that of some of our older writers. It is throughout enriched with a

number of curious and interesting quotations and illustrations,

which display considerable information and research. It is full of

the 'spirit of antiquity,' if we may use such an expression, and is

deeply imbued with a love for those admirable and venerable

institutions, which we owe to the wisdom of past ages. The defence

of the practice of chanting, of the whole Cathedral Service, and,

indeed, of Cathedral institutions altogether, is excellent, and will

repay an attentive perusal.”—CHURCHMAN.

“This clever work is indeed still of the Spirit of Antiquity, and

evinces great originality and freshness of thought, brilliancy of

imagination, profound argument, strong feeling, and a thorough and

hearted love of the cause so eloquently advocated.”—SALISBURY

HERALD.

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In foolscap 8vo. price 8_s._ in cloth, lettered,

THE DEATH OF DEMOSTHENES.

=And other Original Poems:=

WITH THE PROMETHEUS AND AGAMEMNON OF ÆSCHYLUS,

TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK,

BY GEORGE CROKER FOX, ESQ.

“We hail the publication of this work as a valuable addition to our

literature. With an elegant and graceful dedication to our young and

interesting Queen, the volume consists of original Poems,

distinguished for beauty of thought, expressed in language classic

and polished; and of translations rarely equalled for fidelity and

vigour. The Death of Demosthenes is indeed a noble subject, nobly

executed.”... “We have now done our most arduous but pleasing task,

to review the finest poems which have appeared for many years. In

this utilitarian age of steam and vapour, when, whilst we are going

on with our rail-roads, we are going back in our learning, it is

rare to find a mind which can think with and emulate the

ancients—give a new charm to classic literature—call forth the

mighty spirits of Greece—bring them, with all their eloquence and

genius, before us—create with them—copy after them. Mr. Fox,

therefore, deserves our commendation, and merits our gratitude for

his classical volume of poems; for nothing perfect in eloquence,

nothing perfect in poetry, can be produced, unless we love, study,

and imitate the great masters of thought and taste—the ancients—

“—— —————————color che sanno.”—_Dante._

The classical is another name for the beautiful, and Mr. Fox’s

volume must charm all, except the ignorant without learning, and the

learned without taste.”—DUBLIN REVIEW.

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In one volume, 8vo. price 16_s._ in cloth, lettered,

A CLASSICAL & ARCHÆOLOGICAL DICTIONARY

OF THE MANNERS, CUSTOMS, LAWS, INSTITUTIONS, ARTS, &C. OF THE

CELEBRATED NATIONS OF ANTIQUITY AND OF THE MIDDLE AGES.

TO WHICH IS PREFIXED

A SYNOPTICAL AND CHRONOLOGICAL VIEW OF ANCIENT HISTORY.

BY P. A. NUTTALL, LL.D.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

In 15 vols. 8vo. price 7_l._ 17_s._ 6_d._ in boards,

TAYLOR'S (BP. JEREMY) WORKS,

With Life, by Bp. HEBER. Third Edition.

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ARRIAN ON COURSING,

Translated from the Greek, with Classical and Practical Annotations,

and a brief Sketch of the Life of the Author. To which is added an

Appendix, containing some Account of the Canes Venatici of

Classical Antiquity; royal 8vo. _24 embellishments from the

Antique, on India paper_, extra boards, 1_l._ 11_s._ 6_d._

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WORKS ON PERSIA.

The Dynasty of the Kajars, translated from the original Persian

Manuscript presented by His Majesty Faty Aly Shah to Sir Harford

Jones Brydges, Bart. K.C. LL.D. late Envoy Extraordinary and

Minister Plenipotentiary from his Britannic Majesty to the Court

of Teheran. To which is prefixed, a succinct Account of the

History of Persia previous to that Period, 8vo. frontispiece and 3

maps, boards, 1_l._ 4_s._

An Account of the Transactions of His Majesty’s Mission to the Court

of Persia in the Years 1807-11, by Sir Harford Jones Brydges,

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8vo. plates, bds. 1_l._ 1_s._

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DANSEY (REV. W.) ON RURAL DEANS.

Horæ Decanicæ Rurales, being an Attempt to illustrate, by a Series

of Notes and Extracts, the Name and Title, the Origin,

Appointment, and Functions of Rural Deans, &c. 2 vols. 4to.

half-bound morocco, top edges gilt, 1_l._ 11_s._ 6_d._

Archdeacon Goddard, in his recent charge, strongly recommends this

excellent work to the attentive perusal of every clergyman.

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HIGGINS' (G.) CELTIC DRUIDS;

Or an Attempt to show that the Druids were the Priests of Oriental

Colonies, who emigrated from India, and were the Introducers of

the first or Cadmean System of Letters, and the builders of

STONEHENGE, of Carnac, and of other Cyclopean Works in Asia and

Europe, 4to. map and numerous plates, bds. 3_l._

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ANACALYPSIS,

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into the Origin of Languages, Nations and Religions, 2 vols. 4to.

plates, bds. 5_l._

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WOODVILLE'S (DR. WM.) MEDICAL BOTANY;

THIRD EDITION, materially enlarged and improved by Professor Sir

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5 vols. 4to. 310 plates, engraved by Sowerby and Spratt, boards,

5_l._ 15_s._ 6_d._ or with the plates finely coloured, 8_l._

------------------------------------------------------------------------

_In the press, and shortly will be published, in 3 vols. 8vo._

DR. FIELD'S

BOOK OF THE CHURCH.

=A New Edition, with Notes,=

BY

THE REV. JOHN S. BREWER. M.A.

OF QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD.

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As Dr. Field’s Book of the Church has become excessively rare, and,

though much in request, is not attainable at any price, the

Publisher, at the suggestion of several eminent clergymen, has

undertaken a new edition of this very valuable work. In order to

render it worthy of attention, and far superior to all preceding

ones, the Rev. J. S. Brewer (a Gentleman whose well-known diligence

and accuracy guarantee its being executed in the best manner) has

kindly offered his services to collate the various editions, to

verify all the References, and to supply additional Notes where

necessary. He has likewise determined, on account of the extreme

rarity of many of the Authors cited by Dr. Field, to give his

quotations at full length at the bottom of each page; and at the end

of every chapter a brief list of writers, especially of English

Divines, who have treated on the same subject: thus rendering the

work a TEXT BOOK OF THEOLOGY.

As the rarity of this masterpiece of one of our most eminent Divines

has prevented its being so universally known as it deserves to be,

the Publisher may be pardoned for citing a few among the numerous

commendations in its favour.

Coleridge, the Poet, in a letter to his son, the Rev. Derwent

Coleridge, emphatically writes:—“THIS ONE VOLUME, THOROUGHLY

UNDERSTOOD AND APPROPRIATED, WILL PLACE YOU IN THE HIGHEST RANK OF

DOCTRINAL CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND DIVINES, AND OF NO MEAN RANK AS A TRUE

DOCTRINAL CHURCH HISTORIAN.”

King James I. delighted to discourse with Field on points of

Divinity, and, when he first preached before him, said: “Is his name

Field? This is the FIELD for God to dwell in.” On hearing of his

death, the King expressed regret, and added, “I should have done

more for that man!”

Fuller, in the same punning age, calls him, “That learned Divine,

whose memory smelleth like a FIELD which the Lord hath blessed.”

Anthony a Wood tells us he was esteemed “the best disputant in the

schools.”

“Field was well skilled in School Divinity, and a frequent preacher

while he lived in Oxfordshire, and is said to have been very

instrumental in preventing the increase of nonconformity in the

University.”—GOUGH.

“When he first set about writing his book 'OF THE CHURCH,' his old

acquaintance, Dr. Kettle, dissuaded him, telling him that when once

he was engaged in controversy he would never live quietly, but be

continually troubled with answers and replies. To this Field

answered, 'I will so write that they shall have no great mind to

answer me;' which proved to be nearly the case, as his main

arguments were never refuted.”—CHALMERS.

Heylin, in his “Life of Laud,” calls him, “the reverend right

learned Dr. Field, whose excellent works will keep his name alive to

succeeding ages.”

---------------------

SUBSCRIBERS' NAMES RECEIVED BY

JOHN BOHN, 17, Henrietta Street, Covent Garden.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Transcriber’s Note

In the table of contents, the page number for the final section

(“Letter to the Right Honourable Edward Howard”) was incorrectly

given as p. 459. The section begins at p. 458 and the correction was

made.

At 42.17, the word ‘forwardness’ appears. Several lines earlier,

‘frowardness’ is used. The discrepancy is probably a printer’s

error. ‘Froward’ is also used elsewhere: ‘_froward_ children, weary

of the controlment of their parents’ (p. 457). Since Hobbes is

discussing a specific behavior, the former has been retained as less

ambiguous.

The chapter summary for Part II, Chapter II of DE CORPORE POLITICO,

on p. 138, misnumbered section 2 as ‘1’.

On p. 117, a reference to section 16 of the XIIth chapter of _Human

Nature_ is incorrect. The 6th section of that chapter is the

obviously correct reference.

On p. 201, a reference to section 9 of the VIIth chapter of the same

text is also incorrect. The 8th section seems to be the intended

reference.

Other errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been

corrected, and are noted here. The references are to the page and

line in the original.

26.21 I take _nosce t[ei/e i]psum_ for a precept Space added.

176.32 Jesus Christ is come in [t]he flesh Added.

183.18 is not only not necessa[a/r]y Replaced.

216.12 a duty of sovere[i]gns Inserted.

248.28 Thus you see the case[ ]put by St. Paul Inserted.

270.22 are necess[s]ary. Removed.

333.1 nor had he[ he] received Removed.