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applaud the fervour of your zeal to convert us to your new plan of Chriftianity, and reftore us to the land of Canaan. We are not, however, convinced by your arguments. But, that you may not reckon us a stiff-necked and obftinate generation, we fhall affign some reasons why it would be very imprudent for us, at prefent, to renounce our own religion and adopt yours. In the firft place, we are furprised that the fyftem of Chriftianity, which you call the true one, fhould have been fo long concealed even from Chriftians themselves, and brought to light only about eighteen hundred years after its publication. If a charter, conveying the most important rights and privileges to individuals, was fo intricate and obfcure that it could not be understood nor explained, even by lawyers themselves, till eighteen centuries after its date, we would be apt to infer that the prince, by whom it was conferred, either did not understand it himfelf, or did not wish it to be understood by others. A revelation, that it requires fo many ages to reveal, looks more like a Delphian enigma than the oracles of Zion.

"According to your creed, you and your followers can only be reckoned profelytes of the Jews, and not a new fect. If Jefus Chrift was no more than a prophet like Elijah or Jeremiah, Chriftianity can by no means be called a new religion; and its author can only be reckoned an interpreter of the old. Elijah raised the dead like Jefus Chrift, and, like him, explained the law of Mofes; and, if your prophet was only a man of like paffions with him, you can only be confidered as a fect of the Jews. As our religion, according to your own confeffion, was confirmed by greater miracles than those that your prophet performed, its authority muft alfo be fuperior to yours. Nothing but the idea of Divinity in the character of your prophet could authorise him to abolish the old difpenfation and introduce a new one.

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"According to your theory of Chriftianity, we do not know what benefit we could receive from your prophet. The doctrine of the refurrection of the dead was received among us, according to your own fcriptures, before the appearance of Jefus Chrift. The morality of the New Teftament is partly taken from the Old, and partly from the doctrine of the Effenes, as you will find it described by Jofephus. Why then should we change?

"The defire of becoming the head of a fect or party is one of the ftrongeft paffions in human nature. External empire is not more flattering to ambition than this empire over the mind. Wealth, honours, pleasure, even life itself, have been facrificed to it in all ages; and, through the illufions

illufions of felf-love, and the errors of ignorance, obftinate and difappointed vanity has been crowned with the honours of martyrdom. We believe that you would be as proud or vain of converting the Jews, as Alexander the Great was of conquering India. But remember that you cannot. be our Meffiah; for, though you are called Jofeph, you are not defcended from the ftock of Abraham. When your apoftles failed in converting the Jews of old, they faid, "Lo! we turn to the Gentiles ;" and, when you have been difappointed in propagating your own doctrines among the Chriftians, you now turn to the Jews; but it is probable that you will not meet with the fame fuccefs.

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As you have not yet fixed the canon of your fcriptures, and taught us what to believe and what to reject, your addrefs can only be confidered as one of your chymical experiments on a fubject which is not afcertained. At the fame time, from the freedom you have used with the New Teftament, we are a little fuspicious what havoc you might make of the Old.

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Laftly, as, according to your own confeffion, we already approximate very near to each other, let the change begin on your fide; for it would be eafy for you to be circumcifed, but it is altogether impoffible for us to recover the preputial tegument of original nature.

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Wishing you all fuccefs in your experiments on air, and improvement in the construction of balloons,

"I remain, &c. &c.

ART. VII. The Hiftory of the Lives of Abeillard and Heloifa: comprising a Period of Eighty-four Years, from 1079 to 1163. With their genuine Letters, from the Collection of Amboife. By the Rev. Jofeph Berington. 4to. Il. Is. boards. · Birmingham printed. Robinfons, London. 1787.

[ Concluded from our laft. ]

THE marriage of Abeillard and Heloifa, which feemed to promife the confummation of their joys, proved only the beginning of their forrows. Fulbert had made a folemn promile to keep the marriage fecret; but, when the rumour began to prevail that a private marriage had taken place, officious friends foon interfered, who reprefented to the old man, that, to retrieve the honour of his niece, and preferve the dignity of his family, it was requifite that the nuptials fhould be made public. Notwithstanding his engagement, the recol

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lection of past injuries ftruck forcibly on the feelings of the canon; he ordered his fervants to divulge the marriage; and he and his friends were induftrious to propagate the tale in every company. The unexpected news of thefe nuptials foon pervaded Paris; and, whenever Heloifa appeared in public, her friends crowded around her to compliment her on her new dignity. With that difinterested attachment to the honour, and the future preferment of Abeillard, which diftinguished her on all occafions, fhe pofitively denied the fact. When upbraided by her uncle for the denial, fhe reminded him of the promise he had made to Abeillard not to divulge the marriage; "Accufe me not," faid fhe, "of in"gratitude; I feel all the duties which bind me to you;

but Abeillard is my husband." She acquainted her lover with her fituation and her fears. He removed her from her uncle's house, and placed her in the abbey of Benedictine nuns, in which the had been educated. When Fulbert dif. covered how his niece had been difpofed of, he meditated revenge; the infamous mode of it which he projected is well known; it was foon executed; and Heloifa and Abeillard became wretched for ever.

At this period the monaftic life, introduced from the Eaft, had become frequent in Europe. Enthufiafm, which was a ftriking feature in the character of the times, had connected this with the idea of Christianity. According to the different tempers of men, religion, melancholy, remorse, and even ambition, had peopled the deferts with those who had left the world, and thofe whom it had forfaken. The monaftery of Carthufians, founded by St. Bruno at this period, marks the spirit of the times, and is described by our author in the most picturefque and poetical manner.

At this time alfo St. Bruno inftituted his Carthufians. He was a man of letters, and of great repute in the churches of France. Difgufted of the world, and naturally of a gloomy difpofition, he affociated to himself a few companions, and with these retired to the dreadful folitudes in the neighbourhood of Grenoble. The man who has feen this fequeftered region, even in its more hofpitable state, may form fome conception of the mind of Bruno. The horrors of the place where congenial with his foul: here, he thought, the Divinity loved to dwell; and that, in the howling of the wilderness, he fhould more diftinctly hear his voice. To the aufterities with which nature clothed every object round him, he added whatever imagin ation could fuggeft, painful, macerating, and oppreffive, in filence, abftemiousness, and penury. The inhabitants of the Chartreuse, so was their dwelling called, forbad themselves the poor comforts of their own fociety; and the few wanderers, whom curiofity might lead to them, were refufed admiffion to their huts. Women were not allowed to put a foot upon the ground, which the pious folitaries

called

called their enclofure; and Hugo, Bishop of Grenoble, to whom the wilderness belonged, forbad the fisherman to approach their brooks, and the huntfman to disturb their filence with his horn; the animals of the forest might not broufe on their herbage. Every cheering object was to be removed from this scene of prayer and penitence."

When the difafter of Abeillard had reached the public ear, he looked to the cloifter as the only place of refuge which could at once bury his fhame, and hide him from the inquiring eyes of men. He communicated his defign to Hefoifa. Though young and beautiful, the generous Heloifa confented. It was not religion," faid fhe, "which called "me to the cloifter; I was then in the bloom of youth; but "you ordered, and I obeyed." Having confented to the laft facrifice of the most romantic love, and chofen the abbey of Argenteuil for her long refidence, a day was fixed for the folemn ceremony of her profeffion.

The day came. Curiofity had drawn crowds to Argenteuil. The Bishop of Paris officiated in the ceremony; and having bleffed the holy veil, which was to cover the head of the victim, he laid it on the altar. The affembly stood in filent expectation: the gates of the cloifter opened, and Heloifa came forward. She was clothed in the becoming drefs of the order; her attitude marked refignation to her fate; and the hand of affliction had given to her features an angelic foftnefs. As by a mechanical impulfe, every bofom thrilled with compaffion it had been whispered that her facrifice was involuntary: numbers preffed round her; and her approach to the altar was impeded. They begged her not to proceed; they urged the fatality of the ftep; they accufed her pretended friends of cruelty; they spoke of her beauty, of her charms, of her talents, and of the horrors of a cloister. Heloifa was visibly affected; but not by their expoftulations: the fate of Abeillard alone, who was foon to tread the fame mournful path, hung heavy on her heart: tears rolled down her cheeks; and, in broken accents, fhe was heard to pronounce the words of Cornelia:

Q maxime conjux!

O Thalamis indigne meis! Hoc juris habebat
In tantum fortuna caput? Cur impia nupfi,
Si miferum factura fui? Nunc accipe pænas,
Sed quas fponte luam.

Lucan. Phar. 1. 8.

Uttering the laft words, as fhe ftrove to advance, the crowd feparated: her refolution rofe fuller on her countenance; the mounted the fteps of the altar; put her hand on the veil, with which the covered her face; and pronounced diftinctly the fatal vows which were to fever her from the world and Abeillard for ever,

The

The heroifm of this action has feldom, I believe, been equalled. But love, and the peculiar strength of her mind, would have carried Heloifa even to more arduous facrifices, had they been presented to her. It will be faid, that her mind, at the awful moment of giving herself to God, was not in the difpofition of a Christian votary; that it more resembled a pagan facrifice: and that, instead of the pious fentiments, agreeable to the occafion, which her mouth fhould have uttered, the profanely repeated the lines which Cornelia, with a dagger in her hand, addreffed to the manes of Pompey, when the received the news of his death. It is true; nor did Heloifa, either at the time of taking the veil, or afterwards in life, ever pretend that fhe had any thing more in view than merely to obey the command of Abeillard, To have acted a part inconfiftent with this object, be came not her character: fhe wished not to introduce the affectation of religion, where nothing religious was meant; the honesty and candour of her mind revolted at the thought. Indeed it is manifeft, had Abeillard but hinted that the action would have pleased him more, with a Roman countenance fhe would have met the point of a dag-ger, or have fwallowed the deadly hemloc.'

This is more than defcription; it is exquifite painting. The reader becomes a fpectator of the scene; and, entering into the emotions of the affembly, almoft thinks he hears"the fatal vows of Heloifa, which were to fever her from the “world and Abeillard for ever.”

The fubfequent events in the life of Abeillard, and the perfecution he met with from the world, form an affemblage of misfortunes which is not to be paralleled in the hiftory of any individual. There was fomething in his character that provoked oppofition; a love of innovation, dangerous at all times, but more efpecially in a dark age; an afperity of affertion, when he knew he was in the right, and a consciousness of fuperior talents, which he never attempted to difguife. A'romantic felf-love feems to have been his ruling paffion, which was encouraged and foftered by the early figure which he made in life, and the triumphs which he obtained over the moft celebrated mafters. He loved victory more than truth, and perhaps difputation and prelection more than either, because they afforded him an opportunity of unfolding his talents, and difplaying his eloquence. He viewed the conduct of others, fo far as it related to himself, in fo dark a medium, that he had it not in his power to form an equitable and candid judgment. This, however, we muft partly impute to his unmerited and unparalleled misfortunes. Round his own perfon a perpetual funthine of fancy played, which diffused luftre and brilliance on every intention of his mind, and every action of his life.

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