Letters on Thelyphthora

Front matter

ON

A:

WITH AN

Prologue

E.

W firt our brave Reformers corn'd the rage, And dar'd the malice, of a Popih age; When, by the pow'r of Rome no longer bound, They left their chains, and roam'd o'er hallow'd ground; When, for traditions lyes and monkih rules, For the fale jargon of the quibbling chools, They taught this land the sacred page t' eay, And trace where heav'nly wisdom led the way; Scripture and Truth reum'd their antient reign, And Romih tyranny oppos'd in vain: From mental lav'ry's long and tedious night, Bright Liberty came forth, and hail'd the light. The Hearts of thouands bles'd the happy day, (Thoe Hearts which Error long had taught to tray) Errors trong holds by Truth were now o'erthrown, Raz'd were the Altars of a God unknown. O that all foes to Truth had met their doom, Had all been banih'd to the walls of Rome! Then Superstitions dreams had haunted none, But the blind vot'ries of the Papal throne:— Fierce Bigotry no more could lift its head, Nor by false zeal the honet mind be led; Fell Prejudice no more would meanly py Thro' the fale medium of her jaundic'd eye;

Pervert our meanings—turn our good to ill— Pleas'd to oppres, and griev'd he cannot kill. The Proteus, Persecution, had been doom'd Ne'er to appear (whatever hape aum'd) With fire and word to wate the lives of men, Or kulk Aain with the tongue and pen.— Christian Intolerants no more had trod The paths of cruelty, as ways to God. Spirit of Truth! till farther urge thy way— Still farther brighten our imperfect day! O let thy threefold cord our pirits bind, Faith, Hope, and Love, contrain each willing mind— From all our other hackles et us free— From ev'ry bond which is not knit by Thee!

References:

Letter I.

LETTER I.

To the Reverend Mr. B.

April 4, 1781.

Reverend Sir,

I HAVE the favour of yours, and am extremely concerned, that you expres o much dipleaure againt my book—"a work (ay you) which I never have read, and never intend to look into, or uffer it to come within my doors; what I have been told of it entirely atisfies me, I have no curioity to go any farther."—Thee are your own words, which I trancribe, and lay before you, for your re-conideration—perhaps, on cooler reflection, you may find ome rea to join with me, in allowing, or at leat in upecting, that they want that candor, which you, as a man of liberal education—of real honety—not to ay as a Chritian, ought to have hewn on this occaion. To condemn a book which you have never red, is like the unfairnes of determining a caue without uffering the parties to be heard.—I have been conidering on what principle of cripture, reaon, common-ene, or common jutice, uch a proceeding can be jutified, or even excued.—I cannot find, that it is doing unto others as you would they hould do unto you .—An heathen reaoner, Seneca, if I mitake not, could ay——and does not common-ene tell us, "firt hear, and then judge?" Will you dipute the propriety of that quetion of Nicodemus to the chief priets and Phariees?—viz. Doth our law judge any man before it hear him, and know what he doth ?—Solomon aith—He that anwereth a matter before he heareth it, it is folly and hame unto him . But a greater than Solomon has forbidden all rah judgment in the mot pointed and awful terms—Ye hall do no unrighteounes in judgment—in righteounes thou halt judge thy neighbour . And again—Judge not, that ye be not judged; for with what judgment ye judge, ye hall be judged, and with what meaure ye mete, it hall be meaured to you again .

Had you gone no farther than making up your own mind in my disfavour, on no evidence but the mere reports of others, who, perhaps, like yourelf, have never examined the matter, even in this you would not have judged righteous judgment ; but when you endeavoured to prejudice others—to make ue of the influence which you have over the minds of o many poor and ignorant people, to embitter their pirits againt me, and to make even ome of my friends evil-affected towards me; you then meted with a meaure, by which I hope it will never be meted to you again; and that it may not, I would take the liberty of aying, that I wih you eriouly to reflect on your proceedings, how far they have been from bearing fale witnes againt your neighbour (for, to ay what is fale, or what you do not know to be true, amount to pretty much the ame) and how orry you ought to be, in that you have departed from that law of kindnes, which ever has been, and I trut ever will be, the meaure and rule of that affection, with which I am

Very incerely yours, &c.

P. S. In what you ay about not reading Thelyphthora, nor uffering "it to come within your doors," you put me in mind of a philoopher of Florence, whoe prejudices had taken o deep root, that he could never be peruaded to look through one of Galileos telecopes, let he hould ee omething in the heavens which might diturb him in his belief of Aritotles philoophy. See Joness Eay on Nat. Phil. p. 191.

References:

Letter II.

LETTER II.

To Mrs. K.

April 6, 1781.

Madam,

O all the letters which I have received on this occaion, I cannot ingle out one, which appears to me o adapted to hew the force of prejudice, as yours of the 3d int. You are o civil, and o charitable, as to ay—"I cannot help comparing you to Voltaire; you, like him, have written againt the religion of your country, and to make the laws of the church contemptible; and what you have aid againt the marriage-act does not dicover much more veneration for the laws of the tate." In hort, Madam, you might have ummed up all this in a much les compas, and called me heretic and rebel at once.

As for Mr. de Voltaire, whoe works I have read throughout, I think him the mot ignorant and impudent blaphemer of the Bible that ever yet appeared: but at the ame time, I mut et him down as a lively and brilliant writer, and acknowledge, that no man ever attacked the upertition, folly, and knavery of the church of Rome with o much genuine wit, or ever placed thee in o contemptible a light, or with o much probability of making them ridiculous, as Mr. de Voltaire. Pity, that while the acutenes of his genius was cutting up the tares, the rooted infidelity of his heart was endeavouring to detroy the wheat alo.

Now, Madam, if you can produce me a ingle paage from my book, which, by any fairnes of contruction, can tend to leen that reverence for the holy Scriptures, which, I can truly ay, was one chief deign of every volume to inculcate, I will undertake (like Mucius Scevola, when he had killed one of King Porennas nobles) to commit (not only the book, but) the hand that wrote it to the flames.—So much for my "writing, like Voltaire, againt the religion of my country."

As to the laws of the church"—o far as they agree with the Scriptures, I hold them in equal veneration—o far as they relate to things indifferent, I would, for peace ake, oberve them; but, o far as any of them appear to me to contradict or oppoe the law of God, I feel myelf wishing for the zeal of our firt Reformers to oppoe them. So far as they are pregnant with the mot apparent michiefs to the weaker ex, in preventing thoe claims on their educers which God's laws allow them, and are thus intrumental in their ruin and detruction, I would wih for Virgils hundred tongues and mouths to declaim againt them: and o far as "the laws of the church" miniter to the caue of folly and upertition, I could wih for the wit, genius, and pirit of Voltaire to laugh them out of the world.

With regard to "the laws of the tate," you may, if you pleae, apply to them what I have aid concerning "the laws of the church." As for the marriage-act, the frequent attempts which have been made to repeal it, and a bill for that purpoe being very probably deigned to be part of the buines of every eion of parliament, 'till it is done, are evidences that I am by no means ingular in my entiments on that ubject.

I intended to have added omething on the prejudices which eem to have uch full poeion of your mind; but as it would make this letter too long, I mut defer it till a future opportunity, adding no more at this time, than that I am,

Madam,

Yours, &c. &c.

Letter III.

LETTER III.

To the ame.

April 10, 1781.

Madam,

A to the expectation which I gave you in the concluion of my lat, I take up my pen again, in order to finih my anwer to yours of the 3d intant.

Voltaire, whom you mention, defines prejudice to be une opinion ans jugement. Phillips, in his dictionary, calls it, Rah judgment before trial; prepoeion. But I think that Chambers explains it bet, as a fale notion or opinion of any thing, conceived without a due previous examination thereof.

It needs very little argument to prove with what facility prejudice ininuates itelf into the human mind, or with how much difficulty it can be eradicated: daily experience hews us both the one and the other. Whence aries that pronenes to this vice (for a vice it certainly is) which is obervable in us all, it may be difficult to ay; but may we not uppoe it to arie from a certain weaknes in the human mind, which in infancy we cannot be concious of, and which in our riper years we do not ufficiently attend to, that we may guard againt it? However this may be, where hall we find the man who has not taken up ome principle or other, and turned it into a notion or opinion in his own mind, without due examination?

I once knew a learned Phyician, who even to the end of his life could never leep, unless his ervant lay in the ame room with him. His opinion of ghots and apparitions was o trong, that he would almot have thought a man an infidel who had diputed it;—in hort, the people who had the care of his infancy had intilled this into his mind, it grew up with him, he never lot it. Many intances of this kind may be given, even in great, and learned, and wie men, in other repects; whoe folly and weaknes in thee may make us ay, with Lord Cheterfield, Ah poor human nature!

We may ay of Prejudice, as is aid of the Jaundice, it makes us ee things, not as they really are, but as repreented to our imagination through ome fale medium. When this only affects ourelves, it may, or may not, make us unhappy; this depends very much on the nature of the prejudice itelf. Our poor old friend Mrs. , who was o wretched when any body laid their knife and fork acros at dinner, as not doubting but it was a preage of ome terrible cros which was to happen to herelf, or to ome other of the company, was a very mierable woman: but our acquaintance Mrs. , who is firmly peruaded that her two ons will make their fortune, becaue they are twins, and an hive of bees warmed on her houe the day on which they were born, is a very happy one. You know her own birth-day was on a firt of April; are you ure that her being capable of uch a notion was not greatly owing to that circumtance? Pardon me (as honet Vellum ays) for being jocular.

I have poken of prejudices as they may affect ourelves, but they are infinitely more erious when they affect other people. That I may confine myelf to the principal ubject between us, I hall peak of thoe of the religious kind, and which, under the influence of a upertitious zeal, are not only very diagreeable inhabitants in a man's own breat, but very troubleome, and often dangerous, neighbours to thoe who live within their reach.

From thee, indeed, arie thoe baleful enemies to the rights and liberties of mankind, which (if they cannot enlave the undertanding and concience) will, if in their power, detroy their lives.—I mean intolerance and perecution. What havoc have thee made on the face of the earth! what advantage have they given to the common enemy! what arguments have they furnihed againt Chritianity, to thoe, who, unacquainted with the thing itelf, have miapplied its acred name, to the profeion of omething that has been o called. What ays Monieur Freret? "Si Dieu avait daigné e faire homme & juif, & mourir en Paletine par un uplice infame pour expier les crimes du genre-humain, & pour bannir le peché de la terre, il ne devait plus y avoir ni peché ni crime: cependant les Chretiens ont eté des montres cent fois plus abominables que tous les ectateurs des autres religions enemble." In order to prove his point, he mentions—"les maacres, les roues, les gibets, & les buchers des Cevennes; & pres de cent mille ames péries dans cette province ous nos yeux; les maacres des vallées de Piemont, les maacres de la Valteline du tems de Charles Borromée, les maacres des Anabaptites maacreurs & maacrés en Allemagne ; les maacres des Lutheriens & de Papites depuis le Rhin juqu'au fond du nord; les maacres d'Irlande, d'Angleterre & d'Ecoe du tems de Charles I. maacré lui meme; les maacres ordonnés par Marie, & par Henri VIII. on pere; les maacres de la St. Barthelemi en France, & quarante ans d'autres maacres depuis François II. juqu'à l'entrée de Henri IV. dans Paris; les maacres de l'inquiition peut-etre plus abominables encor, parce qu'ils e font juridiquement; enfin les maacres de douze millions d'habitans du nouveau monde executés le crucifix à la main: ans compter tous les maacres faits precedemment au nom du Jeus Chrit depuis Contantin, & ans compter encore plus de vingt chimes, & de vingt guerres de Papes contre Papes, & d'Evêques contre Evêques, les empoionnemens, les aainats, les rapines des Papes Jean XI. Jean XII. des Jean XVIII. des Gregoire VII. des Boniface VIII. des Alexandre VI. & de tant d'autres Papes qui paerent de I loin en célératee les Neron, & les Caligula." He remarks, that this dreadful ucceion of religious quarrels for 1,400 years together, never ubited but among the Chritians.

Alas, Madam, what hall we ay to uch things? can we deny them?—We cannot—hould we attempt it, the hitories of the everal times abovementioned would tare us in the face, and convict us of falehood. Can we jutify, or even palliate them? No—every feeling of humanity mut hudder at them—every principle of truth and jutice mut condemn and abhor them. ppoem|{smaller}

O what are thee!

Death's miniters, not men, who thus deal death Inhumanly to men, and multiply Ten thouand fold the in of him who lew His brother: for of whom uch maacre Make they but of their brethren, men of men? >>Milton.

But what argument do they furnih againt the truth of the New Tetament? None—but, on the contrary, a very con and unanwerable one for its mot certain truth. Thee things were foretold, they have been fullfilled; and to urge the fulfilment of prophecy, even in the very letter of it, as an argument againt the truth of the book which contains it, is worthy the candour of Mr. De Voltaire, and the dicernment of Monieur Freret.

When I conider the length of this letter, and how much longer I mut make it in order to finih what I have to ay on this ubject, and, at the ame time, that an engagement calls me out, I mut bid you adieu; and only add, that, as oon as I can find time to write, you hall hear again from,

Madam,

Yours, &c.

Letter IV.

LETTER IV.

To the Reverend Mr. G.

April 14th 1781.

Reverend Sir,

THough I have not the pleaure of a peronal acquaintance with you, yet I eteem your character: and not the les, for the freedom which you ue with me on the ubject of my book. You ay, that you "hould have highly approved and admired it, if I had omitted the topics of Polygamy and Concubinage."—In anwer to which, I can only ay, that writing a treatie, which o much concerns the ubject of marriage, in all the various forms, circumtances, and modes, in which it has appeared ince the beginning of the world, and that on the foundation of the Bible, and omitting the topics which you complain of as "being liable to give offence," would be like an anatomits reading a lecture, or publihing a treatie, on the anatomy of the human frame, and leaving out ome parts of the body, for fear of offending his pupils, or his readers. I trut and hope, that whatever the God of Heaven has deigned to mention in his word, I never hall be ahamed either to peak of or write upon. Offence may be taken at this, but I am ure none is given.

You agree with me, that "the crimes of adultery and eduction are grown to an enormous heighth, and if any expedient could be thought on to check them in the rapid progres they are daily making, it would be a great bleing." I would wih you to reflect on the truth contained in this conceion, as it may furnih you with an anwer to that part of your letter, wherein you ak me, how I "could pend o much time, and take o much pains, on points which are ettled by the laws of church and tate, and cannot be altered."—I have red that the laws of the Medes and Perians could not be altered, but I am confident that the laws of God ought not to be altered; and that, if the preumption of mankind hath gone o far as to alter them, another alteration hould take place, and they hould again be retored to their due honour; this I take to be the only expedient for bringing that bleing among us which you eem o much to wih for. If we look back omething above 200 years, you will find that the laws both of church and tate were o framed, as, in all human appearance, to leave but an hopeles propect of alteration; yet men aroe, who, with the Bible in their hands, were mighty, through God, to pull down trong holds; and now we find, that the laws both of church and tate protect men in profeing, what in thoe days they would have burned them alive for believing.

You allow, that "thoe compulory laws of Exod. xxii. 16. and Deut. xxii. 28, 29. might be very proper among the Jews, but we are Chritians." Yes, but we are men of like paions with them, and the Jews were men of like paions with us; and I own, that I cannot eaily be made to conceive, that any laws can be o well adapted to regulate either thoe paions themelves, or to prevent or punih the bad effects and evil conequences of them, as thoe which He, who knoweth whereof we are made, once revealed as His will, mot evidently for that purpoe.

"But we are Chritians."—Well for us if we are, not only in profeion, but in belief and practice; I know no higher evidence of this, than being followers of Chrit in his zeal and veneration for the laws of His heavenly Father, which He came not to detroy but to fulfil; He has taught us to believe, that there is not a jot or tittle of the law, but is fixed on a bais more olid, firm, and irremoveable, than the pillars of heaven and earth.

Notwithtanding all this, we are to uppoe, that "the new dipenation we live under," as you peak, "has abrogated thee laws, and given us others, more pure, and holy, and perfect." Stop, dear Sir, take care, you are at the edge of a dangerous precipice:—more pure, holy, and perfect, than what? than the laws of Jehovah Himelf! Do you mean this?—Given us by whom? a being more pure, holy, and perfect, than the Lawgiver of Mount Sinai? Take care, Sir, moderate your zeal—you are treading on holy ground—look to your teps—open your eyes—ee where you are going—you ay more than you mean—charity forbids me to think you can mean what you ay.—You are heated—be cool—reflect.

I am, Sir,

Your real well-wiher and humble ervant, &c.

Letter V.

LETTER V.

To Mrs. K.

April 20th, 1781.

Madam,

I At lat find time to take up my pen, in order to proecute the ubject on which I have already written o much.

We have een the workings of prejudice and blind zeal, with their attendants, intolerance and perecution, as manifeted in the hort, but dreadful, hitory of their exploits in the Chritian world. It is our mercy, that their talons are cut, their teeth are broken, they are retrained of their tyranny, and they can no longer (like their father the Devil) go about as roaring lions, eeking whom they may devour. That glorious act of Chritian liberty, that Magna Charta of religious concience, which paed on the acceion of King William and Queen Mary, has banihed their tortures, cut down their gibbets, put out their fires. God forbid that this kingdom hould ever be cheated or deluded into a re-admiion of them! I tremble at the very thought!

But though, as matters now tand, thee are no longer to be looked upon, or dreaded, as national evils among us of this Protetant country—yet the human heart is jut the ame; prejudice, upertition, and blind zeal, and of coure intolerance and perecution, till come from within, and defile the man; therefore they till will make ue of all the power, and of all the weapons which they have left. Firt, let us ay, the tongue; this is a very deadly intrument, and well decribed in the language of inpiration by the apotle James , as a fire—a world of iniquity. So is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and etteth on fire the coure of nature, and it is et on fire of hell. The tongue can no man tame, it is an unruly evil—full of deadly poion. Therewith bles we God, even the Father, and therewith cure we men, which are made after the imilitude of God. Out of the ame mouth proceedeth bleing and curing. My brethren, thee things ought not o to be.

Another intrument of intolerance and perecution is the pen; this is a till more hurtful engine of michief than the other; words poken may be lot and forgotten, but that which is written mut remain and, as it is dieminated and pred abroad, it carries its michief with it, where we perhaps can never come ourelves. Still wore than all other vehicles of candal is the pres, as till more conducive, not only to the preading and propagation, but to the permanence of that michief which a man chues his neighbour hall uffer from him.

How any mortals could ever think, that torturing, imprioning, burning their fellow-creatures, becaue they might differ from ome commonly-received religious opinion, in their entiments, could tend to intruction or conviction; or erve the caue of truth; is as aburd as it is wicked and barbarous: this I am certain of, whatever opinion I might entertain of my own entiments, I hould have a very bad opinion of his religious ytem, who could in me on account of mine.—The man who receives, and takes a pleaure, as well as much pains, to pread an evil report of his neighbour, becaue he does not think with him, certainly does what michief he can; and by the ame rule, and from the ame motive, that he does this, would till do more were it in his power; no thanks to him that more is not done.

And as this inhuman method of controvery can carry no conviction with it to any reaonable mind, but, as I hould think, jut the contrary, one hould hope the landerer would be apprized of this, and feel ome hame arie from his diappointment.—Not in the leat; he writes—he prints—he publihes his venom, and is weak enough to tell all the world of his inconitency; that he is profeing one thing, practiing another; profeing to believe that book which commands him not to raie a fale report, nor put his hand with the wicked to be an unrighteous witnes , and yet doing both in the very face of the un. If this be not a profeing to know GOD, but in works denying him , I know not what is.

Now, if intead of this, men would calmly earch and try what they hear and read, not by their own prejudices and preconceived notions, but by their Bibles, and from thence draw arguments which might tend to convince their opponents, by informing them better, they would at leat gain one advantage, that of the approbation of their own conciences, if not the farther advantage till, of being led to the knowledge of ome important truth, which before they were either unacquainted with, or had mitaken.

But to what end, after all, doth it erve, to perecute, or revile, or abue a man, becaue, in ome opinion, he may differ from us?—a reaonable, candid, and calm mind, which has nothing but truth for its object, will conider with caution and deliberation, and if it has a written and infallible evidence, to which it may have recoure, it will fix on this; well knowing, that a good man may be mitaken, or a man of an oppoite character may be in the right. Where facts are concerned, which only lie in the knowledge of the parties, the good or bad character of a witnes mut greatly affect his credibility; but where there is written tetimony, whereon people's interpretations may be different, that written tetimony mut peak for itelf. Two advocates may argue differently on the contruction of an act of Parliament, and in their heat be very abuive on each other; the judge pays no regard to this, o as to decide on the part of the man whoe talent for candal and abue is the mot eminent, and of coure, againt the party who fails in this accomplihment; he divets himelf of all prejudice, he calls for the act of Parliament, he looks into it, and determines, on the bet lights which he can derive from his own judgment and dicretion, on the words of the law.—He coniders its intention from the preamble, and contrues the everal enacting claues mot agreeably to this, knowing that this is the only atisfactory way to his own concience, to acquit himelf uprightly in his office.

Thus hould all who have a proper regard to truth, and who, like the upright judge, have no other caue to erve, try and examine a publication; not by the prejudices of others, or by their own; not by taking offence againt the author, becaue he is reviled and abued, and thus condemn his book becaue they dilike his character from believing the evil which is poken of him; but they will (if it be on religious opinions) call for the great Statute Book, they will compare one part with another, comparing piritual things with piritual (as the Apotle peaks); they will not ret their determination on the mere ound of words, and this in a tranlation, of ome ingle text taken by itelf; but they will, if able, firt conult the original, that they may know what God really ays, not what a fallible (tho' excellent) tranlation makes him ay; they will contrue one part by another, and then, taking the whole together, make up their mind, form their judgment, deliver their opinion.

I have frequently heard an advocate employ all his abilities in brow-beating, abuing, and, by every method in his power, ditreing a witnes againt him; but I never knew a caue where this was done, that was not rotten at bottom; and therefore, uch mean and candalous attempts to milead a jury from the merits of the quetion before them, are uually occaioned from a conciounes of this, and (if the jury are men of ene and honety) as uually end in the hame of the advocate, and the confuion of his client.

I leave you and Mr. to apply what I ay. As to what you oberve about "convincing my adveraries," I can only anwer—"they have Moses and the Prophets, let them hear them—If they hear not Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be peruaded, though one roe from the dead."

One thing I can aure you of, which is, that I had rather forgive and love one of them, than bring over a dozen of them to my opinion.

I am, Madam, Yours, &c.

References:

Letter VI.

LETTER VI.

To the Reverend Mr. S.

May 7, 1781.

ppoem|{smaller} "Shut, hut the door, good John! fatigued I aid, Tie up the knocker, ay I'm ick, I'm dead."

I CAN now conceive what Pope is uppoed to have felt, when he wrote the beginning of this epitle to Dr. Arbuthnot; becaue I have been petered with letters, ome from thoe I do know, ome from thoe I do not know, ome from thoe whom I hope I never hall know, and ome —from people who eem to have but a very light acquaintance with themelves. From the aburdity and folly of mot of thee performances, I hould almot think, that the Gooe, when bereft of its quills, communicates omething of its genius and undertanding to uch writers: though with regard to many of them, if what is aid of the fretful Porcupine be true, that he ets up his quills in anger, and darts them at thoe who approach him, I hould imagine, that this animal had furnihed my correpondents, if not with intruments to write with, yet with the temper they write in. But they would be more angry till if they knew all; for they have not been able once to put me out of humour, either with myelf or my book. When the wind its in the outh-wet, it is apt to whitle through the key-hole of my tudy, and this is wore to me than all they have aid: ome indeed have made me laugh, and, like the famous philoopher of Abdera, Democritus, treat their folly with riibility. Others have rather inclined me to be on the ide of the EpheIan Heraclitus, and to mourn over, what I cannot laugh at, however foolih, becaue thee have levelled their folly at erious things.