tionary volcano. During the Restoration, the liberal party of Great Britain were never weary of extolling the happy condition and brilliant prospects of the French people; and uniformly held out, that much as the violence and horrors of the preceding convulsions were to be deplored, their final results had been eminently favourable to the interests of mankind. The delusion was thus generally diffused, that Christianity formed no essential part of public felicity; that it was possible to rear up a happy state of society on the foundation of church spoliation, and general infidelity; and that in a regenerated monarchy, religion might be dispensed with, and public virtue supersede the necessity of ecclesiastical instructors. Is there any wellinformed man who will now dare to maintain the paradox? The revolt of the Barricades, the accession of the Citizen King, has dispelled the illusion: it has disclosed the interior of the whited sepulchre, exhibited the ghastly features of premature decay, amidst the triumph of the revolutionists; held up to public gaze the extinction of all the elements of freedom in the first of regenerated monarchies; exhibited a growth of licentiousness and profligacy unparalleled in any modern State, and revealed to the world, as the certain fruits of irreligious triumphs, the chains, the well-known chains of Eastern despotism.

"There are but two eras in human affairs," says Madame de Stael, "that which preceded, and that which followed the introduction of Christianity." The evident and ruinous effects of the extinction of religion in France, have forced themselves upon the observation of the most enlightened even of the liberal party in that fervent country. It was impossible, that a generation could grow up under the practical influence of irreligious sentiments, without the disastrous effects of such a change forcing themselves upon the observation of every impartial observer; and accordingly M. Guizot, though one of the liberal leaders, and by no means guiltless in regard to the previous measures of that party which led to the Revolution of July, has portrayed in vivid

colours the important effects of Christianity upon the fabric of society in modern Europe. Public misfortune has righted the human mind. We no longer meet with the sneers at religion in the enlightened writers of France, which disgrace the otherwise incomparable works of Hume and Gibbon. Even the lucid and philosophic spirit with which Robertson has reviewed the progress of society in modern Europe, yields to the antiquarian penetration, the enlarged views, with which Guizot has traced, through all the obscurity of the middle ages, the historical blessings of religious institutions; and that fervent and enthusiastic defence of Christianity, which for above a century had been wanting to French literature, was found within sight of the altar of the Goddess of Reason, in the burning thoughts and gifted eloquence of Chateaubriand.

When Napoleon took the field, in 1815, against the forces of combined Europe, he marched in the first instance against the Duke of Wellington's army: "for if I defeat the English," said he, "what need I care for all the hordes which the Austrians, Russians, and Prussians, are directing to the Rhine ?" Revolutionary madness pays the same sincere, but involuntary homage to the Church, in every State which it invades: it directs its first and strongest attack against the establishments of Christianity. An unerring instinct tells its leaders, that if they can only overthrow its bulwarks, they will find it an easy matter to overturn all the other institutions of society; that when the sentinels at the gates are massacred, the battlements will soon be in their power. The Church was the first victim of democratic fervour in France; and before a stroke was levelled either at the nobility or the throne, the whole ecclesiastical property in the State was confiscated; the earliest measure of the revolutionists in Spain and Portugal, when they obtained possession of supreme power in 1823, was to extinguish the whole institutions, and appropriate the whole possessions, of the Church; and the first use which the reformers of England have made of the extraordinary triumph of the Reform Bill,

has been to direct against the Established Church the whole discontented humours of the State.

The assault on the Church, there fore, is not to be regarded as a mere isolated menace on a detached interest in the State. It is a direct attack on the whole interests of society-the first of a series of measures by which the nobility, the throne, the funds, the great estates, will be destroyed. The leaders of the revolutionary party are well aware that the Church is the great bond which unites the higher and the lower orders; that in its defence all the greatest and noblest, as well as the humblest and simplest of the community, are linked together; and that in the feelings of common devotion, and the worship of God under one common roof, feel ings of mutual sympathy are produced, which are perhaps the only ties of affection which, in the present artificial state of society, unite the higher and the lower orders. All this they know, and the effects of this union they fear from the bottom of their hearts. They are well aware that the Catholic Relief Bill, by depriving the Conservative party of the vast support which they received from the religious sympathy of the great mass of the rural tenantry on that important question, did more to prostrate the defences of the monarchy than any measure since the Revolution, and led by natural consequence to the Reform Bill, and all the catalogue of disasters by which it has been attended. Knowing this, and anticipating a similar junction of the Conservative leaders and the rural population, in defence of the Church of England, they are indefatigable in their efforts to heap up obloquy on its institutions; and anticipate from its overthrow the dispersion of the last phalanx which remains between them and the attainment of all their selfish and revolu. tionary projects.

The Revolutionists have begun their attack in an artful way. Know ing the influence of education on the mind of youth-seeing the noble stand which Oxford and Cambridge have made against the Reform Bill, and all the ruinous measures by which it has been followed; irritated beyond measure at the multitudes of

able and highly educated young men whom those two noble seminaries annually send forth, strongly imbued with Conservative principles; bitterly galled by the obvious fact, that, the waters flowing from these great fountains of knowledge are now purified, and the sophisms of modern liberalism effectually ba nished from the really enlightened classes of society, they have recourse to a lower body. They represent these venerable institutions as the mere fastnesses of error, prejudice, and cupidity, and hold forth, as the first of the many grievances under which they labour, the necessity of conforming to the Church of England before they can attain any of the honours or important stations in the University. This is their first attack on Religion, the Church, and the State; they hope thus to get possession of the great fountain of public instruction, and so turn by its source the mighty stream which has so long opposed a barrier to their progress.

As it is obvious what the designs of the Revolutionists are in making this inroad, so it would be mere affectation in the Conservatives to attempt to conceal what their motives are for resisting it. They are fully aware of the importance of religion to society, and deeply impressed with a conviction, that the Church of England is the form in which its blessings can best be communicated to the English people. Believing this, they regard Oxford and Cambridge as not merely places of education, but essentially and chiefly places of religious education. They are persuaded, that unless the ele ments of a right faith are early implanted in the minds of the influential part of the nation-unless the truths of Christianity in its purest form are early inhaled by our statesmen, our legislators, our instructors, the institutions, not only of religion, but of society, are bound together by a rope of sand, and all the clements of British greatness and freedom will be speedily dissolved by the subtle poison which has proved fatal to them in the neighbouring kingdom. Believing this, and deeply impressed with the necessity of preserving unsullied the great fountains of public thought, they are resolved

to resist to the uttermost any mea sures calculated to weaken the ascendency of the Established Church in these seminaries, and render their walls the theatre of the divisions, acrimony, and malevolent disposition, which so lamentably pervade the dissenting interest in every other part of the kingdom. In doing this, they are not actuated by any illwill towards that body, adorned by many eminent and respectable men; they are merely sensible of the obvious truth, that they cannot coexist in the same establishment, that their sphere of usefulness lies in different quarters, and that the utility of both would be destroyed, if they were placed side by side in an institution fundamentally framed upon the adoption of one system of religious faith.

What would the Catholics say, if a Protestant were to insist not merely upon receiving the elements of education at Maynooth College, but being declared eligible to its professorships? or a Jew were to complain of injustice, because he were not permitted to become Professor of Divinity in a Christian University; or a Protestant were to propose that he should be elected to an important situation in the Propaganda of Rome? In all these cases the absurdity of the demand is obvious, and our own Dissenters and Liberals would be the first to point it out, if it were attempted by any member of the Church of England. But they wilfully shut their eyes to the unreasonable nature of such a demand when directed against the Established Church of this country; or rather, they distinctly see it and feel it, but obstinately persist in supporting it, from its tendency to advance their revolutionary projects.

Nothing but confusion and discord, envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness, can be expected to arise from permitting the point of the dissenting wedge to be introduced into either of the Universities. They say now, that they wish to be allowed to aspire to scholarships and degrees; that is, to become members of the University, and have a vote in various elections and matters connected with academical discipline. What good is to be derived from such an introduction? Is it ex

pedient to introduce the firebrand of religious discord, the jealousies of an established and rival church, into the calm retreats of science and philosophy? Has the experience of mankind shewn that religious strife is so trifling and inconsiderable a source of discord, that it can be safely introduced into the bosom of a peaceful community? Are no evil consequences to be anticipated, not merely to the Church of England, but to religion in general, from the jealousy, the animosity, and heartburnings of two rival sets of theologians in one University, each burning with zeal for the propagation of their own set of opinions, and each striving to draw off proselytes, and students from their antagonist? Is there any example in the world, in any country really governed by religious principles, of such a heterogeneous mixture of discordant theological principles in a public seminary of education? Such a system may do very well in regenerated and revolutionized France, which has nearly thrown off the old slough of the Christian faith, and appears now in the parti coloured skin of science, profligacy, and despotism; but it is incompatible with a sincere belief in the truth of their principles by either Churchmen or Dissenters, and could lead to nothing, in a really Christian establishment, but the fierceness of religious strife, or the supineness of sceptical indifference.

The able and candid journals in the dissenting interest openly avow, and publicly glory in, the ulterior objects which they have in view, in thus seeking to force themselves into the Universities. The Examiner declares that the object is of vital importance, for that if once they succeed in possessing themselves of the lever of education, the speedy overthrow of the Establishment will be a comparatively easy task. They are perfectly right. It will be so; and therefore it is, that not only all friends to the Church of England, but all sincere and upright believers in Christianity, should unite their forces to resist an invasion fraught with such danger, not only to so venerable an establishment, but such incalculable danger to the progress of Christianity over the world. It is impossible to estimate the effects

which would be produced, not upon these islands in particular, but the world in general, if the Church of England were overturned. What other church has ever so nobly main tained the contest, not merely of its own tenets, but of Christianity in general, as that of England? Where shall we find, in the annals of any other people, so stupendous an array of learning and intellect, of eloquence and genius, of taste and piety? The fervent spirit and poetic ardour of Jeremy Taylor-the learned wisdom and practical piety of Barrow-the pious aspirations and devout feelings of Hooker-the sound judgment and clear sagacity of Tillotson-the metaphysical acuteness and discriminating talent of Samuel Clarke, have stamped immortality upon the church to which they belonged. The prophecy of Latimer and Ridley at the stake is already accomplished-they have lighted a flame which, by the grace of God, will never be extinguished.

If the Democratic dissenters of modern times were worthy of the land which gave them birth, and the sires from which they sprang, they would tremble before they laid a hand on an establishment which has done, and is doing, such marvellous things. Greater in its achievements than the patriotism of antiquity-more glorious in its conquests than the Roman legions, it has subjected, not kingdoms, but hemispheres, to its influence; and in the admirable Liturgy by which it has spoken to the hearts of so many millions, and is destined to speak to the hearts of so many myriads of mankind, established an unseen dominion, against which the forces of hell shall strive in vain. They may root the Mother Church out of the British islandsthey may annihilate the parent of such unequalled greatness-they may reduce the land of Newton and Bacon to an infidel state-they may render Christianity, in this its once favoured ark, hateful by their ambition, or contemptible by their divisionsthey may overturn the British empire by their success, but extinguish the Church of England they never will, till talent has ceased to command the admiration, and piety win the affections, and usefulness secure the concurrence of mankind.

And are these glories and this usefulness matter of historymerely? Must we turn to other days, to the annals of an earlier age, to the works of an infant Establishment, for proofs of its continued and undecaying lustre ? No! The present time bears witness to its achievements; the land in which we live affords testimony of its splendour. Never in any former age, not even in that memorable one which arose, conquering and to conquer, out of the fires of Smithfield, nor in that equally momentous period when it set itself to oppose the torrent of licentiousness which overspread the country on the accession of Charles II., did the Church of England appear in brighter and more glorious colours, than now, when, undeterred by the terrors of a revolution, and unseduced by the allurements of power, she maintains her faith inviolate, and preserves in silent courage her blissful career. It is on this trying, this momentous occasion, that the inherent purity of her principles and dignity of her character have been most conspicuous. Other ages have witnessed the prostration of religious institutions by the fervour of sectarian zeal, or the attacks of infidel ribaldry; other countries have seen the noble foundations of ancient piety torn up by the fury of modern revolution,-but in all such cases the government at least was steady to its duty and its principles, and in the hour of trial the throne and the altar fell together. It has been reserved for our age alone to witness the Church, in the moment of its greatest danger, bereft of support in the quarter where every principle of duty and wisdom entitled it to expect it; to see the forces of revolution and of the government blended together for the promotion of measures evidently and avowedly intended to accomplish its destruction, and the whole weight of the prerogative exerted to force through a revolutionary change, the first effect of which was openly announced to be the arraying all the forces of democracy at once against its battlements. Assailed thus, in front and rear at the same time, threatened by the enemy without, deserted by the garrison within, it has nobly stood at its post, mildly but firmly withstanding the attacks of its enemies, replying

by the lustre of its character to all the calumnies with which it was as sailed, and exhibiting an example of usefulness, piety, and benevolence, in the midst of a corrupted society, which may well put its antagonists to the blush for the obvious bless ings to which they have been insensible, and the vast advantages which they have sought to destroy.

When we reflect on the calumnies which the Dissenters have heaped on the Church of England,-when we look back to their history and her history, when we consider what they are, and what she is, we are lost in astonishment at the audacity and effrontery of their pretensions, and the gross ignorance of history, science, theology, and literature, which such diatribes imply in their followers. The schoolmaster has been abroad to very little purpose; his instructions have wofully darkened the age, when such misrepresentations can find a willing reception in any, even the humblest and most prejudiced class of readers. Who are the great men who adorn and have immortalized the dissenting churches of Britain? Respectable worthy pastors they have had, and have; two or three rather ingenious metaphysicians they may point out; eminent names in science they may boast; sturdy supporters of democracy they have produced: but to compare them to the luminaries of the Church of England! Where are their Taylors, and Barrows, and Hookers, their Clarkes, and Cudworths, and Newtons, their Sherlocks, and Ogdens, and Paleys, their Warburtons, and Butlers, and Tillotsons, their Hebers, Coplestones, Sumners, and Alisons? What names have they produced which have acquired a European reputation, or are known beyond the straits of Dover or the Atlantic, or will survive the fervour and zeal of the little sect to which they belong?.*

Is it in the more silent and unobtrusive, but not less important walks of usefulness, that we are to look for evidence of the benefits of a national Establishment? Where shall we find such numerous-such overwhelming proofs of it, as in the Church of England? What other

national religion has ever so effectually resisted all the powers of wickedness? what other has so manfully endured the terrors of a persecuting, or resisted the corruptions of a profligate age?-what other has spread so far and wide the principle and practice of true religion? what other has so thoroughly engrafted the great duty of Christian charity, not only upon the habits and feelings, but the institutions of the people? The Poor Laws, the noblest monument, as they were originally conceived, of Christian benevolence and political wisdom, that ever was reared by man, date their origin from the 42d of Elizabeth, shortly after the establishment of the National Church; and but for the steady provision which they have since afforded to sickness and old age, the institutions of England could never have withstood the shocks arising from the vicissitudes of employment and subsistence, incident to a great commercial and manufacturing community. The charitable institutions, and be nevolent establishments of the island, have since that time been unbounded, notwithstanding the vast burden entailed on the State by the subsequent misdirection of that great engine of national pity; and if we add together the legal and the voluntary contributions made good by English charity and benevolence since its first establishment, we shall find their amount unparalleled in any other age or country. Where shall we find a National Church that has so effectually resisted the agents of corruption which have been so long and actively at work in the British islands, and preserved the standard of national morals so high, and the adherence to religion so general, amidst sources of corruption unparalleled in any country, ancient or modern? Roman virtue rapidly yielded to the wealth brought in by her victorious legions; Constantinople soon was corrupted by the stream of wealth which flowed into the great emporium of Asiatic commerce; Venetian patriotism sunk under the enervating influence of Indian opulence: but the English