is own scientific reputation not a little for the
weight it gave, among skeptics, to his arguments in support of his
religious belief. He found that all the philosophers in Paris were
unbelievers. They looked at him with mild astonishment when they
learned that he was not of the same mind. They may even have thought
him a phenomenon which required scientific investigation. 'As I chose
on all occasions to appear as a Christian, I was told by some of them
that I was the only person they had ever met with, of whose
understanding they had any opinion, who professed to believe
Christianity.' Priestley began to question them as to what they
supposed Christianity was, and with the usual result,--they were not
posted on the subject.

In 1780 Priestley went to Birmingham. In the summer of 1791 occurred
that remarkable riot, perhaps the most dramatic event in the
philosopher's not unpicturesque career. This storm had long been
gathering, and when it broke, the principal victim of its anger was, I
verily believe, more astonished than frightened. The Dissenters were
making unusual efforts to have some of their civil disabilities
removed. Feeling against them was especially bitter. In Birmingham
this hostility was intensified by the public discourses of Mr. Madan,
'the most respectable clergyman of the town,' says Priestley. He
published 'a very inflammatory sermon ... inveighing against the
Dissenters in general, and myself in particular.' Priestley made a
defense under the title of _Familiar Letters to the Inhabitants of
Birmingham_. This produced a 'reply' from Madan, and 'other letters'
from his opponent. Being a conspicuous representative of that body
which was most 'obnoxious to the court' it is not surprising that
Priestley should have been singled out for unwelcome honors. The
feeling of intolerance was unusually strong. It was said--I don't know
how truly--that at a confirmation in Birmingham tracts were
distributed against Socinianism in general and Priestley in
particular. Very reputable men thought they did God service in
inflaming the minds of the rabble against this liberal-minded
gentleman. Priestley's account of the riot in the Memoir is singularly
temperate. It might even be called tame. He was quite incapable of
posing, or of playing martyr to an audience of which a goodly part was
sympathetic and ready to believe his sufferings as great as he chose
to make them appear. One could forgive a slight outburst of
indi