There are two reasons which still force me to with-hold my assent. I. The author of the Book of Daniel is too well informed of the revolutions of the Persian and Macedonian empires, which are supposed to have happened long after his death. II. He is too ignorant of the transactions of his own times. In a word, he is too exact for a Prophet, and too fabulous for a contemporary historian.
I. The first of these objections was urged, fifteen hundred years ago, by the celebrated Porphyry. He not only frankly acknowledged, but carefully illustrated the distinct and accurate series of history, contained in the book of Daniel, as far as the death of Antiochus Epiphanes; for beyond that period, the author seems to have had no other guide than the dim and shadowy light of conjecture. The four empires are clearly delineated, the expedition of Xerxes into Greece, the rapid conquest of Persia by Alexander, his untimely death without posterity, the division of his vast monarchy into four kingdoms, one of which, Egypt, is mentioned by name, their various wars and intermarriages, the persecution of Antiochus, the prophanation of the Temple, and the invincible arms of the Romans, are described with as much perspicuity in the prophecies of Daniel, as in the histories of Justin and Diodorus. From such a perfect resemblance, the artful infidel would infer, that both were alike composed after the event. This conduct has supplied St. Jerom with a fund of learning, and an occasion of triumph; as if the philosopher, oppressed by the force of truth, had unwarily furnished arms for his own defeat. Yet, notwithstanding Jerom’s confidence, and in spite of my inclination to side with the father, rather than with the adversary of the church; the reasoning of the latter may I fear be justified by the rules of logic and criticism.
May I not assume as a principle equally consonant to experience, to reason, and even to true religion; “That we ought not to admit any thing as the immediate work of God, which can possibly be the work of man; and that whatever is said to deviate from the ordinary course of nature, should be ascribed to accident, to fraud, or to fiction; till we are fully satisfied, that it lies beyond the reach of those causes?” If we cast away this buckler, the blind fury of superstition, from every age of the world, and from every corner of the globe, will invade us naked and unarmed.
The eager trembling curiosity of mankind has ever wished to penetrate into futurity; nor is there perhaps any country, where enthusiasm and knavery have not pretended to satisfy this anxious craving of the human heart. These self-inspired prophets have strove by various arts to supply the want of a divine mission. Sometimes adapting their conjectures to the present situation of things, and to the passions and prejudices of those, for whom their oracles were intended, they have involved themselves in the mystic veil of dark, general, and ambiguous metaphors: and embracing an indefinite space, they have trusted to time and fortune for the accomplishment of their predictions, or to the industry of kind commentators for a favourable interpretation of them. Sometimes they have commenced prophets, and even true prophets at a very easy rate, by delivering the narrative of things already past under the name of some celebrated character of a distant age. As the series of events gradually unfolds itself, those which the supposed ancient could have read only in the book of fate, are transcribed by the more enlightened modern from any common history.
Virgil (the example is innocent and unexceptionable) has left us specimens of both these prophetic arts: I have often wondered at the rashness of critics who have tryed to ascertain the subject of the fourth Eclogue, and to point out the wonderful infant, the restorer of a golden age. That modest and judicious Poet would not surely have risked the smallest part of his reputation, on the miscarriage of a woman, or the precarious life of a child. The picture is richly, nay profusely coloured; but the design is traced with so vague a pencil, that it might adapt itself to any events or to any interpretation; that it might equally suit a literal or an allegorical sense; the son of Pollio, of Antony, or of Augustus; the restoration of liberty, or the tranquillity of the world under one master. Far different are the prophecies delivered to Æneas concerning the fate and fortunes of his descendants. The Trojan hero is indulged with a full and distinct view of the most remote futurity; and the visionary prospect is closed by the mournful apparition of a youth, who would have rivalled the greatest of his ancestors, had not the gods envied such virtues to Rome and to mankind.
From this single remark, we should think ourselves authorized to infer, that Virgil lived in the Augustan age; and that the sixth book was composed during the yet recent grief for the loss of young Marcellus. The Poet indeed meant not to deceive us: like the author of the Persian Letters, or of the Moral Dialogues, his only aim was to convey important truths under the pleasing cover of fiction. But had Virgil seriously pretended, that his sketch of the Roman history was a faithful transcript from an old Sibylline oracle; had Augustus from motives of policy favoured the deceit, and had the Romans adopted it with religious respect; would any man of sense want better evidence of the pious fraud, than the very clearness and precision of the prophecy? The unanimous judgment passed on the yet extant collection of the Sibylline Oracles affords an easy answer to this question. Every critic who has observed that their prophetic light ceases with the reign of Hadrian, has pronounced them without hesitation to be a forgery of that period.
However, as no Christian can dispute the reality of Divine Inspiration, nor any philosopher deny the possibility of it; the suspicion, that a prophecy too clear and precise was composed after the event, though extremely strong, is capable of being removed by still stronger positive evidence. Without insisting on any fanciful or impracticable conditions, we have (I think) a right to expect, that the existence of such a prophecy prior to its 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. Till such evidence is produced, we may fairly sit down in a calm and well-grounded scepticism.
I have endeavoured to form something like this chain of witnesses in favour of the Book of Daniel; but without being able to carry it higher than the first century of the Christian æra. Josephus seems to expatiate with pleasure on the praises of that great man; whose character, in some instances, he proposed as a model for his own. He celebrates the various merit of Daniel, as a statesman, a prophet, and even as an architect. His prophetic writings (says Josephus) which are still extant, evince his familiar intercourse with the Deity, and his perfect knowledge of futurity. He even possessed some material advantages above the rest of his inspired brethren; not contented with declaring future events, he ascertains the time when they were to happen; and instead of announcing calamities, he is most commonly the messenger of good news. The rise and fall of successive empires so clearly described and so punctually accomplished, ought to convince the disciples of Epicurus, that human affairs, instead of being left to the blind impulsion of chance, are pre-ordained by an all-directing Providence. Nothing can be desired fuller or more honourable for Daniel than this testimony of the Jewish historian. I am only concerned that he did not publish his Antiquities till the ninety-third year of the Christian æra; two hundred and fifty-seven years after the death of Antiochus Epiphanes, and more than six centuries later than the time, in which the Prophet is supposed to have flourished.
II. The Book of Daniel is partly of the prophetic and partly of the historic kind. With the account of his visions, the author mixes the memoirs of his life; which lies the more open to our inspection, as it was spent, not like those of the other Prophets in caves and deserts, but in the courts of princes and the great transactions of the world. Three incidents are more particularly mentioned: that he was educated with many other captive youths, among the Eunuchs of Nebuchadnezzar; that he was promoted by that prince to the government of Babylon for the interpretation of a dream; and that, under the reign of Darius the Mede, he was appointed the first of the three ministers or vizirs of the empire; and was soon after exposed to the most imminent danger, by the malice of his enemies, the impudence of his sovereign, and his own pious constancy. To the first of these incidents I am so far from forming any objection, that it seems to me, in the true style of the oriental customs in war and government. But the two last are embarrassed with difficulties, from which I have not been able to extricate myself.
1. Although the most unfrequented paths have sometimes conducted the favourites of fortune to wealth and honours: yet I much doubt, whether any man has been appointed a great officer of state for his skill in divination. In the time of Chardin, the Persian astrologers possessed as much credit at the court of the Sophis, as the Chaldeans could possibly obtain in that of Babylon; and both king and people paid the most implicit obedience to their predictions. Two astrologers constantly attended the Royal Person; nor was any measure adopted, however trifling or however important, without the previous sanction of these ministers of fate; who cost the state annually above four millions of French money. But notwithstanding they were thus highly favoured and respected, they were still confined within their own province; nor is there any instance of the Sovereign chusing his ministers, his generals, or his judges, amongst that class of men; the best qualified, as it should seem, for action, since they were the best acquainted with the consequences of their actions. The common sense of mankind has constantly preferred the mere human accomplishments of courage, capacity, and experience. The Roman augurs indeed presided in the senate, and led forth the armies of the common-wealth; but in this single exception, the sacerdotal was grafted on the political character. The first citizens, after rising gradually through the honours, and great offices of their country, were at length admitted to play the most powerful engine of the aristocracy.