rather appeal to your own feelings; as I cannot doubt your familiar
acquaintance with the writings of the Attic Bee. Compare the Anabasis
with the Cyropædia; and _feel_ the difference between truth and
fiction; between the lively and copious variety of the one, and the
elegant poverty of the other. A few general incidents, thinly scattered
through a diffuse work, and destitute of any notes of geography or
chronology, compose the life of Cyrus; which seems lost in a multitude
of speeches, councils, reflections, and familiar episodes. Xenophon
was a philosopher and a soldier; and if we unravel with any care the
fine texture of the Cyropædia, we shall discover in every thread the
Spartan discipline and the philosophy of Socrates. The only part
which has the air of real history, is the judicious digression, where
Xenophon compares the degeneracy of the modern Persians with the wise
institutions of their founder. He possessed the best opportunities of
examining both the one and the other, whilst he served in the camp
of the younger Cyrus, and traversed, with the immortal ten thousand,
the greatest part of the provinces of Artaxerxes. The first Cyrus was
confessedly a great man. The conquest of Asia is a sufficient testimony
of his abilities; and the name of Father given him by the Persians
after his death, must stand as the surest evidence of his virtues. But
the hero of the Cyropædia is drawn as a _perfect character_; a monster
as fabulous, and less interesting than those of Ariosto. His wise
councils are never, in a single instance, seduced by passion, misled by
error, or disappointed by accident. Xenophon labours to establish the
empire of prudence; his countryman Herodotus had entertained himself
with displaying the tyranny of fortune; and both writers, whilst they
inculcate the moral precept, seem alike, though by opposite paths, to
deviate from historic truth.
2. But if the Cyropædia be admitted as a genuine history, Darius the
Mede is still excluded from the throne of Babylon, since Cyaxares
himself never ascended it. When the Cyrus of Xenophon besieged that
great city, he had gradually shaken off all dependance on his uncle,
and assumed to himself the supreme command, and exclusive advantages of
the war. The strength of his army consisted of seventy thousand natural
Persians, solely attached to their hereditary prince, from every motive
of duty, gratitude, and interest. He was followed by a various train of
nations, allies and subjects, all subdued by his arms and policy. About
forty thousand Medes, who served under his banners, had long since been
taught to despise the weakness, and to disobey the commands of their
sovereign. After the conquest, Cyrus was solemnly inaugurated king of
Babylon, with every circumstance of pomp and greatness, which could
dazzle the eyes of the multitude. Some time afterwards he visited his
uncle at Ecbatana, presented him with rich gifts, the spoils of Asia,
accepted his only daughter in marriage, and very politely told the King
of the Medes, that he had set apart for him, one of the finest palaces
of Babylon; that whenever he should chuse to come to that city, he
might find himself, _as if he were still in his own dominions_.
If these observations are founded in truth and nature; it will
follow, that the author of the Book of Daniel has entertained us with
incredible stories, which happened under an imaginary monarch. So much
error and so much fiction are incompatible with an inspired, or even
with a contemporary, writer. But if the prophecies were framed three
or four centuries after the Prophet’s death, it was much easier for
the counterfeit Daniel to _foretel_ great and recent events, than to
compose an accurate history or probable romance of a dark and remote
period.
The question is curious in itself, important in its consequences,
and in every light worthy the attention of a critical divine. This
consideration justifies the freedom of my address, and the hopes I
still entertain, that you may be able and willing to dispell the mist,
that hangs, either over my eyes, or over the subject itself. On my
side, I can only promise, that whatever you shall think proper to
communicate, shall be received with the candor which I owe to myself,
and with the deference, so justly due to your name and abilities,
I am, Sir,
with great esteem,
your obedient humble servant,
——
P.S. You will be pleased, Sir, to address your answer _To Daniel
Freeman, Esq. at the Cocoa Tree, Pall Mall_: but if you have any
scruple of engaging with a mask, I am ready, by the same channel, to
disclose my real name and place of abode; and to pledge myself for the
same _discretion_, which, in my turn, I shall have a right to expect.
* * * * *
I had neither leisure nor inclination to enter into controversy with
this stranger (for which there was the less occasion, as he had
disputed no principle or opinion advanced by me in the Sermons); but,
as I knew, whoever he was, that he would complain, or rather _boast_,
of being wholly unnoticed by me, I sent him this answer.
ANSWER TO THE FOREGOING LETTER.
_Thurcaston, August 29, 1772._
SIR,
Your very elegant letter on the antiquity and authenticity of the Book
of Daniel (just now received) finds me here, if not without leisure,
yet without books, and therefore in no condition to enter far into
the depths of this controversy; which indeed is the less necessary,
as every thing, that relates to the subject, will come, of course,
to be considered by my learned successors in the new Lecture. For,
as the prophecies of Daniel make an important link in _that chain,
which_, as you say, _has been let down from heaven to earth_ (but not
by the Author of the late Sermons, who brought into view only what he
had found, not invented) the grounds, on which their authority rests,
will, without doubt, be carefully examined, and, as I suppose, firmly
established.
But, in the mean time, and to make at least some small return for the
civility of your address to me, I beg leave to trouble you with two
or three short remarks, such as occur to me, on the sudden, in reading
your letter.
Your main difficulties are these two: 1. That the author of the Book
of Daniel is too clear for a prophet; as appears from his prediction
of the Persian and Macedonian affairs: And 2. too fabulous for a
contemporary historian; as is evident, you suppose, from his mistakes,
chiefly, I think, in the vith chapter.
1. The first of these difficulties is an extraordinary one. For why
may not prophecy, if the Inspirer think fit, be as clear as history?
Scriptural prophecy, whence your idea of its obscurity is taken,
is _occasionally_ thus clear, I mean after the event: And Daniel’s
prophecy of the revolutions in the Grecian empire would have been
obscure enough to Porphyry himself, before it.
But your opinion, after all, when you come to explain yourself, really
is, as one should expect, that, as a prophet, Daniel is not clear
enough: for you enforce the old objection of Porphyry by observing,
That, where a pretended prophecy is clear to a certain point of time,
and afterwards obscure and shadowy, there common sense leads one to
conclude that the author of it is an impostor.
This reasoning is plausible, but not conclusive, unless it be taken for
granted that a prophecy must, in all its parts, be equally clear and
precise: whereas, on the supposition of real inspiration, it may be
fit, I mean it may suit with the views of the Inspirer, to predict some
things with more perspicuity, and in terms more obviously and directly
applicable to the events in which they are fulfilled, than others. But,
further, this reasoning, whatever force it may have, has no place here;
at least, you evidently beg the question when you urge it; because the
persons, you dispute against, maintain, That the subsequent prophecies
of Daniel are equally distinct with the preceding ones concerning the
Persian and Macedonian empires, at least so much of them as they take
to have been fulfilled, and that, to judge of the rest, we must wait
for the completion of them.
However, you admit that the suspicion arising from the _clearest_
prophecy may be removed by direct positive evidence that it was
composed before the event. But then you carry your notions of that
evidence very far, when you require “that the existence of such a
prophecy prior to the accomplishment should be proved by the knowledge
of it being generally diffused amongst an enlightened nation, previous
to that period, and its public existence attested by an unbroken chain
of authentic writers.”
What you here claim as a matter of _right_, is, without question, very
desirable, but should, I think, be accepted, if it be given at all, as
a matter of courtesy. For what you describe is the utmost evidence that
the case admits: but what right have we, in this or any other subject
whether of natural or revealed religion, to the utmost evidence? Is
it not enough that the evidence be sufficient to induce a reasonable
assent? And is not that assent reasonable, which is paid to real
evidence, though of an inferior kind, when uncontrouled by any greater?
And such evidence we clearly have for the authenticity of the book of
Daniel, in the reception of it, by the Jewish nation, down to the time
of Jesus, whose appeal to it supposes and implies that reception to
have been constant and general: Not to observe that the testimony of
Jesus is further supported by all the considerations that are alledged
for his own divine character. To this evidence, which is positive so
far as it goes, you have nothing to oppose, but surmise and conjecture,
that is, nothing that deserves to be called evidence. But I doubt, Sir,
you take for granted, that the claim of inspiration is never to be
allowed, so long as there is a possibility of supposing that it was not
given.
II. In the second division of your Letter, which is longer and more
laboured than the first, you endeavour to shew that the _historical_
part of the book of Daniel, chiefly that of the sixth chapter, is false
and fabulous, and, as such, confutes and overturns the _prophetical_.
What you say on this head is contained under _five_ articles.
1. You think it strange that Daniel, or any other man, should be
advanced to a great office of state, _for his skill in divination_.
But here, first, you forget that Joseph was thus advanced, and for the
same reason: Or, if you object to this instance, what should hinder the
advancement either of Joseph or Daniel (when their skill in divination
had once brought them into the notice and favour of their sovereign)
for what you call _mere human accomplishments_? For such assuredly
both these great men possessed, if we may believe the plain part of
their story, which asserts of Joseph, and indeed proves, that he was,
in no common degree, _discreet and wise_; and of Daniel, that _an
excellent spirit was found in him_, nay that he had _knowledge and
skill in all learning and wisdom_, over and above his _understanding
in all visions and dreams_. In short, Sir, though princes of old might
not make it a rule to chuse their ministers out of their soothsayers,
yet neither would their being soothsayers, if they were otherwise
well accomplished, prevent them from being ministers: Just as in
modern times, though churchmen have not often, I will suppose, been
made officers of state, even by bigotted princes, because they were
churchmen, yet neither have they been always set aside from serving in
those stations, when they have been found eminently qualified for them.
2. Your next exception is, That a combination could scarce have been
formed in the court of Babylon against the favourite minister (though
such factions are common in other courts) because the courtiers of
Darius _must have apprehended that the piety of Daniel would be
asserted by a miraculous interposition_; of which they had seen a
striking instance. And here, Sir, you expatiate with a little too much
complacency on the strange indifference which the ancient world shewed
to the gift of miracles. You do not, I dare say, expect a serious
answer to this charge; Or, if you do, it may be enough to observe,
what I am sure your own reading and experience must have rendered very
familiar to you, that the strongest belief or conviction of the mind
perpetually gives way to the inflamed selfish passions; and that, when
men have any scheme of interest or revenge much at heart, they are not
restrained from pursuing it, though the scaffold and the axe stand
before them in full view, and have perhaps been streaming but the day
before with the blood of other state-criminals. I ask not, whether
miracles have ever _actually_ existed, but whether you do not think
that multitudes have been firmly _persuaded_ of their existence: And
their indifference about them is a fact which I readily concede to you.
3. Your third criticism is directed against what is said of _the
law of the Medes and Persians, that it altereth not_; where I find
nothing to admire, but the extreme rigour of Asiatic despotism. For I
consider this irrevocability of the law, when once promulgated by the
Sovereign, not as contrived to be a check on his will, but rather
to shew the irresistible and fatal course of it. And this idea was
so much cherished by the despots of Persia, that, rather than revoke
the iniquitous law, obtained by surprize, for exterminating the Jews,
Ahasuerus took the part, as we read in the book of Esther, (and as
Baron Montesquieu, I remember, observes) to permit the Jews to defend
themselves against the execution of it. Whence we see how consistent
this law is with the determination of the Judges, quoted by you
from Herodotus—“That it was lawful for the King to do whatever he
_pleased_”—for we understand, that he did not please, that his law,
when once declared by him, should be altered.
You add, under this head, “May I not assert, that the Greek writers,
who have so copiously treated of the affairs of Persia, have not left
us the smallest vestige of a restraint, equally injurious to the
monarch, and prejudicial to the people?” I have not the Greek writers
by me to consult; but a common book I chance to have at hand, refers
me to one such vestige in a very eminent Greek Historian, Diodorus
Siculus. Lowth’s Comm. in loc.
4. A fourth objection to the historic truth of the book of Daniel is
taken, with more plausibility, from the matter of this law, which,
as you truly observe, was very strange for the King’s councillors to
advise, and for any despot whatsoever to enact.
But 1. I a little question whether prayer was so constant and
considerable a part of Pagan worship, as is supposed; and, if it was
not, the prejudices of the people would not be so much shocked by
this interdict, as we are ready to think. Daniel indeed prayed three
times a day: but the idolaters might content themselves with praying
now and then at a stated solemnity. It is clear that when you speak
of _depriving men of the comforts, and the priests of the profits of
religion_, you have Christian and even modern principles and manners
in your eye: perhaps, in the _comforts_, you represented to yourself
a company of poor inflamed Huguenots under persecution; and, in the
_profits_, the lucrative trade of Popish masses. But, be this as it
may, it should be considered, 2. that this law could not, in the
nature of the thing, suppress all prayer, if the people had any great
propensity to it. It could not suppress _mental_ prayer: it could not
even suppress _bodily worship_, if performed, as it easily might be, in
the night, or in secret. Daniel, it was well known, was used to pray
in open day-light, and in a place exposed to inspection from his usual
manner of praying; which manner, it was easily concluded, so zealous
a votary, as he was, would not change or discontinue, on account of
the edict. Lastly, though the edict passed for thirty days, to make
sure work, yet there was no doubt but the end proposed would be soon
accomplished, and then it was not likely that much care would be taken
about the observance of it.
All this put together, I can very well conceive that extreme envy and
malice in the courtiers might suggest the idea of such a law, and that
an impotent despot might be flattered by it. Certainly, if what we read
in the third chapter be admitted, That _one_ of these despots required
all people, nations, and languages to worship his image on pain of
death, there is no great wonder that _another_ of them should demand
the exclusive worship of himself, for a month[255]; nay perhaps he
might think himself civil, and even bounteous to his gods, when he left
them a share of the other eleven. For, as to the presumption—
——Nihil est quod credere de se
Non possit, cui laudatur Diis æqua potestas.
5. A fifth, and what you seem to think the strongest objection to the
credit of the book of Daniel, is, “That no such person, as Darius the
Mede, is to be found in the succession of the Babylonish princes [You
mean, as given in Ptolemy’s Canon and the Greek writers] between the
time of Nebuchadnezzar and that of Cyrus.”
In saying this, you do not forget, nor disown, what our ablest
chronologers have said on the subject: But then you object, that
Xenophon’s Cyaxares has been made, (to serve a turn) to personate
Darius the Mede, and yet that Xenophon’s book, whether it be a romance,
or a true history, overturns the use which they have made of this
hypothesis.
1. I permit myself, perhaps, to be too much flattered by your civility
in referring me to my own taste, rather than to the authority of
Cicero: But the truth is, I am much disposed to agree with you, “that,
if we unravel with any care the fine texture of the Cyropædia, we shall
discover in every thread the Spartan discipline and the philosophy of
Socrates.” But then, as the judicious author chose to make so recent
a story as that of Cyrus, and so well known, the vehicle of his
political and moral instructions, he would be sure to keep up to the
_truth_ of the story, as far as might be; especially in the leading
facts, and in the principal persons, as we may say, of the drama. This
obvious rule of decorum such a writer, as Xenophon, could not fail to
observe: And therefore, on the supposition that his Cyropædia is a
romance, I should conclude certainly that the outline of it was genuine
history.
But, 2. if it be so, you conclude that there is no ground for thinking
that Darius the Mede ever reigned at Babylon, because Cyaxares himself
never reigned there.
Now, on the idea of Xenophon’s book being a romance, there might be
good reason for the author’s taking no notice of the short reign of
Cyaxares; which would break the unity of his work, and divert the
reader’s attention too much from the hero of it: while yet the omission
could hardly seem to violate historic truth, since the lustre of his
hero’s fame, and the real power which, out of question, he reserved
to himself, would make us easily forget or overlook Cyaxares. But, as
to the _fact_, it seems no way incredible, that Cyrus should concede
to his royal ally, his uncle, and his father-in-law (for he was all
these) the _nominal_ possession of the sovereignty—or that he should
_share_ the sovereignty with him—or, at least, that he should leave
the _administration_, as we say, in his hands at Babylon, while he
himself was prosecuting his other conquests at a distance. Any of these
things is supposable enough; and I would rather admit any of them, than
reject the express, the repeated, the circumstantial testimony of a not
confessedly fabulous historian.
After all, Sir, I doubt, I should forfeit your good opinion, if I did
not acknowledge that some, at least, of the circumstances, which you
have pointed out, are such as one should hardly expect at first sight.
But then such is the condition of things in this world; and what is
_true_ in human life is not always, I had almost said, not often, that
which was to be previously expected: whence, an indifferent romance
is, they say, more _probable_ than the best history. But should any
or all of these circumstances convince you perfectly that some degree
of error or fiction is to be found in the book of Daniel, it would be
too precipitate to conclude that therefore the whole book was of no
authority. For, at most, you could but infer, that the historical part,
in which those circumstances are observed, namely the sixth chapter,
is not genuine: Just as hath been adjudged, you know, of some other
pieces, which formerly made a part of the book of Daniel. For it is
not with these collections, which go under the name of the prophets,
as with some regularly connected system, where a charge of falsehood,
if made good against one part of it, shakes the credit of the whole.
Fictitious histories may have been joined with true prophecies, when
all that bore the name of the same person, or any way related to him,
came to be put together in the same volume: But the detection of such
misalliance could not affect the prophecies, certainly not those of
Daniel, which respect _the latter times_; for these have an intrinsic
evidence in themselves, and assert their own authenticity in proportion
as we see, or have reason to admit, the accomplishment of them.
And now, Sir, I have only to commit these hasty reflections to your
candour; a virtue, which cannot be separated from the love of truth,
and of which I observe many traces in your agreeable letter. And
if you would indulge this quality still further, so as to conceive
the possibility of that being _true and reasonable_, in matters of
religion, which may seem strange, or, to so lively a fancy as your’s,
even ridiculous, you would not hurt the credit of your excellent
understanding, and would thus remove one, perhaps a principal, occasion
of _those mists which_, as you complain, _hang over these nice and
difficult subjects_.
I am, with true respect,
Sir, &c.
R. H.
* * * * *
I should not perhaps have thought it worth while to print either of
these Letters, if a noble person had not made it necessary for me to
give the _former_ to the publick, by doing this honour (though without
my leave or knowledge) to the _latter_. By which means, however, we
are now at length informed (after the secret had been kept for twice
twelve years) that the anonymous Letter-writer was Edward Gibbon, Esq.
afterwards the well-known author of “The History of the _Decline and
Fall of the Roman Empire_[256].”
Of Mr. Gibbon’s Letter to me, I have no more to say: And of his
_History_, only what may be expressed in few words.
It shews him, without doubt, to have possessed parts, industry,
and learning; each in a degree that might have entitled him to a
respectable place among the compilers of ancient history. But these
talents were disgraced, and the fruit of them blasted, by a FALSE TASTE
OF COMPOSITION: that is, by _a raised, laboured, ostentatious style_;
effort in writing being mistaken, as it commonly is, for energy—by _a
perpetual affectation of wit, irony, and satire_; generally misapplied;
and always out of place, being wholly unsuited to the historic
character—and, what is worse, by a _free-thinking libertine spirit_;
which spares neither morals nor religion; and must make every honest
man regard him as a bad citizen, as well as writer.
These miscarriages may, all of them, be traced up to one common cause,
an EXCESSIVE VANITY.
Mr. Gibbon survived, but a short time, his favourite work. Yet he lived
long enough to know that the most and best of his readers were much
unsatisfied with him. And a few years more may, not improbably, leave
him without one admirer.—Such is the fate of those, who will write
themselves into fame, in defiance of all the principles of true taste,
and of true wisdom!
R. W.
_Hartlebury Castle, Nov. 18, 1796._
THE END OF THE FIFTH VOLUME.
Printed by J. Nichols and Son,
Red Lion Passage, Fleet-Street, London.
Errata:
P. 365, l. 9. for _two_ read _too_.
FOOTNOTES: