Complete.

’TIS usual to see good intentions, if carried on without moderation, push men on to very vicious effects. In this dispute, which has at this time engag’d France in a civil war, the better and the soundest cause, no doubt, is that which maintains the ancient religion and government of the kingdom. Nevertheless, amongst the good men of that party (for I do not speak of those that only make a pretence, either to execute their own particular revenges, or to gratifie their avarice, or to pursue the favor of princes; but of those who engage in the quarrel out of true zeal to religion, and a vertuous affection to maintain the peace and government of their country) of these, I say, we see many whom passion transports beyond the bounds of reason, and sometimes inspires them with counsels that are unjust and violent, and moreover inconsiderate and rash. It is true, that in those first times when our religion began to gain authority with the laws, zeal arm’d many against all sorts of Pagan books, by which the learned suffer’d an exceeding great loss. A disorder that I conceive did more prejudice to letters than all the flames of the barbarians. Of this Cornelius Tacitus is a very good testimony; for though the Emperour Tacitus, his kinsman, had by express order furnish’d all the libraries in the world with it, nevertheless one entire copy could not escape the curious examination of those who desir’d to abolish it, for only five or six idle clauses that were contrary to our belief. They had also the trick easily to lend undue praises to all the emperours who did any thing for us, and universally to condemn all the actions of those who were our adversaries, as is evidently manifest in the Emperour Julian, surnamed the Apostate; who was in truth a very great and rare man, a man in whose soul philosophy was imprinted in the best characters, by which he profess’d to govern all his actions; and in truth there is no sort of vertue of which he has not left behind him very notable examples. In chastity (of which the whole course of his life has given manifest proof) we read the same of him, that was said of Alexander and Scipio, that being in the flower of his age, for he was slain by the Parthians at one and thirty, of a great many very beautiful captives, he would not so much as look upon one. As to his justice, he took himself the pains to hear the parties, and although he would out of curiosity enquire what religion they were of, nevertheless the hatred he had to ours never gave any counterpoise to the balance. He made himself several good laws, and cut off a great part of the subsidies and taxes impos’d and levied by his predecessors. We have two good historians who were eyewitnesses of his actions; one of which, Marcellinus, in several places of his “History,” sharply reproves an edict of his whereby he interdicted all Christian rhetoricians and grammarians to keep school, or to teach, and says he could wish that act of his had been buried in silence. It is very likely that had he done any more severe things against us, he, so affectionate as he was to our party, would not have pass’d it over in silence. He was, indeed, sharp against us, but yet no cruel enemy: for our own people tell this story of him, that one day, walking about the city of Chalcedon, Maris, bishop of the place, was so bold as to tell him that he was impious, and an enemy to Christ, at which, say they, therein affecting a philosophical patience, he was no further mov’d, than to reply, “Go wretch, and lament the loss of thy eyes,” to which the bishop reply’d again, “I thank Jesus Christ for taking away my sight, that I may not see thy impudent face.” So it is that this action of his savours nothing of the cruelty that he is said to have exercis’d towards us. “He was” (says Eutropius, my other witness) “an enemy to Christianity, but without putting his hand to blood.” And to return to his justice, there is nothing in that whereof he can be accus’d, the severity excepted he practis’d in the beginning of his reign against those who had follow’d the party of Constantius, his predecessor. As to his sobriety, he liv’d always a souldier’s kind of life; and kept a table in the most profound peace, like one that prepar’d and inur’d himself to the austerities of war. His vigilancy was such, that he divided the night into three or four parts, of which, always the least was dedicated to sleep, the rest was spent either in visiting the estate of his army and guards, in person, or in study, for, amongst other rare qualities, he was very excellent in all sorts of learning. ’Tis said of Alexander the Great, that being in bed, for fear lest sleep should divert him from his thoughts and studies, he had always a basin set by his bedside, and held one of his hands out with a ball of copper in it, to the end, that beginning to fall asleep, and his fingers leaving their hold, the ball by falling into the basin might awake him. But the other had his mind so bent upon what he had a mind to do, and so little disturb’d with fumes, by reason of his singular abstinence, that he had no need of any such invention. As to his military experience, he was excellent in all the qualities of a great captain, as it was likely he should, being almost all his life in a continual exercise of war, and most of that time with us in France, against the Germans and Francks: we hardly read of any man that ever saw more dangers, or that made more frequent proofs of his personal valour. His death has something in it parallel with that of Epaminondas, for he was wounded with an arrow, and try’d to pull it out, and had done it, but that being edg’d, it cut and disabl’d his hand. He incessantly call’d out, that they would carry him again in this condition into the heat of the battel to encourage his souldiers, who very bravely disputed the battel without him, till night parted the armies. We stood oblig’d to his philosophy for the singular contempt he had for his life, and all human things. He had a firm belief of the immortality of the soul. In matter of religion, he was vicious throughout, and was surnam’d the Apostate, for having relinquish’d ours; though, methinks, ’tis more likely that he had never thoroughly embrac’d it, but had dissembled out of obedience to the laws, till he came to the empire. He was in his own so superstitious, that he was laugh’d at for it by those of the same opinion of his own time, who jeeringly said that had he got the victory over the Parthians, he had destroy’d the breed of oxen in the world to supply his sacrifices: he was more over besotted with the art of divination, and gave authority to all sorts of predictions. He said, amongst other things, at his death, that he was oblig’d to the gods, and thank’d them, in that they would not cut him off by surprise, having long before advertis’d him of the place and hour of his death, nor by a mean and unmanly death, more becoming lazy and delicate people, nor by a death that was languishing, long, and painful; and that they had thought him worthy to die after that noble manner, in the progress of his victories, in the flower of his age, and in the height of his glory. He had a vision like that of Marcus Brutus, that first threatened him in Gaul, and afterward appear’d to him in Persia just before his death. These words, that some make him say when he felt himself wounded, “Thou hast overcome, Nazarene,” or as others, “Content thyself, Nazarene,” would hardly have been omitted, had they been believ’d by my witnesses, who, being present in the army, have set down to the least motions and words of his end, no more than certain other miracles that are recorded of him. And to return to my subject, he long nourish’d, says Marcellinus, paganism in his heart; but all his army being Christians, he durst not own it. But in the end, seeing himself strong enough to dare to discover himself, he caus’d the temples of the gods to be thrown open, and did his utmost to set on foot and to encourage idolatry: which the better to effect, having at Constantinople found the people disunited, and also the prelates of the Church divided amongst themselves, having conven’d them all before him, he gravely and earnestly admonish’d them to calm those civil dissensions, and that every one might freely and without fear follow his own religion. Which he did the more sedulously solicit, in hope that this license would augment the schisms and faction of their division, and hinder the people from reuniting, and consequently fortifying themselves against him by their unanimous intelligence and concord; having experimented by the cruelty of some Christians, that there is no beast in the world so much to be fear’d by man, as man. These are very near his words, wherein this is very worthy of consideration, that the Emperour Julian made use of the same receipt of liberty of conscience to inflame the civil dissensions, that our kings do to extinguish them. So that a man may say on one side, that to give the people the reins to entertain every man his own opinion is to scatter and sow division, and, as it were, to lend a hand to augment it, there being no sence nor correction of law to stop and hinder their career; but, on the other side, a man may also say that to give the people the reins to entertain every man his own opinion is to mollifie and appease them by facility and toleration, and dull the point which is whetted and made sharper by variety, novelty, and difficulty. And I think it is better for the honour of the devotion of our kings, that not having been able to do what they would, they have made a shew of being willing to do what they could.