this person as a most accomplished and he roic character.

But this extraordinary man has himself written. I study his writings, and I am struck with the extreme disinterestedness, the meekness, the pathetic piety, and, above all, with that sublime benevolence which breathes through all his works; the whole race of man finds room in his heart; there is no branch of morality which does not vegetate and fructify within him. He is himself a moral system, which lives, breathes, and acts without ceasing; he is at the same time the precept and the example. And what precepts does he teach?-Let love be without dissimulation. Abhor that which is evil, cleave to that which is good. Be kindly affectioned one to another, with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another. Not slothful in business; rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; distributing to the necessity of saints; given to hos-pitality. Bless them which persecute you, bless and curse not. Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. Be of the same mind one towards another.

Mind not high things, and be not wise in your own conceits.* Is it possible that these ethics, so pure, so elevated, so peculiarly adapted to the wants of universal society, should have been preached by the same man, who breathed forth threatenings and slaughter, and whose sole pleasure and glory consisted in putting his fellow-creatures to the torture? And how could such a man so suddenly attain to the perfect practice of such morality? He, who came to call mankind to these great duties, had surely spoken to him. But what shall I say to that admirable picture of charity, so full of warmth and life, which continually captivates my attention in another production † of this finished moralist? And yet it is not the

picture itself which engages my attention the most, it is the occasion which gives rise to it. Of all the endowments which man might obtain or exercise, surely there is no one fitter to flatter our vanity than those which are miraculous. Illiterate men, of the lowest class, who suddenly speak fo reign tongues, would be very much inclined to make a parade of so extraordinary a +1 Corinth. xiii.

Romans xii.

gift, forgetful of its purpose. A numerous society of Neophytes, founded by this illustrious man, soon made an ill use of that gift. He hastens to write to them, and to remind them what ought to be the real use of miracles. He does not hesitate in preferring

that sublime benevolence, which he calls charity, to all miraculous endowments; that charity, which, according to him, is the most perfect system of all social virtuesThough I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.

Whence has this sage learned to make so exact a discernment of things? Why is he not dazzled by so many eminent gifts which he possesses, or supposes himself to possess? Would an impostor act in this manner? Whence has he discovered that miracles are only simple signs for those who do not yet believe? Who has taught this fana

tical persecutor to prefer the love of mankind to the most splendid endowments? Can I mistake, in these doctrines and virtues of the disciple, the voice, the ever-efficacious voice, of THAT MASTER, who gave himself up as a sacrifice for the whole race of mankind?

CHAP. V.

THE

THE MAN BORN BLIND.

HE interrogatories contained in the evidence of the witnesses continually awaken my attention.

It is there chiefly that I must search for the sources of the probability of the facts attested. If these interrogatories, as I have already observed, have never been formally confuted by those whose greatest interest it was to contradict them, I must allow the consequences which naturally result from them. Amongst these interrogatories there is one especially which claims my attention, and which I cannot read without feeling a secret pleasure; I mean that of the man born blind, and cured by the divine messenger*. This miracle becomes the cause of great astonishment to all those

* John ix.