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e I am far from accusing the English Catholics of holding such doctrines, or of wishing to return to that persecuting system, which was here at its height in the reign of Queen Mary. How far these notions may be still relished by more bigotted religionists of other countries, I will not take on myself to determine. The conduct of some of the French emigrants in the South of France, who recently returned with their King, a sovereign of too mild a character to encourage such outrages, does not afford the most favourable testimony of the Roman Catholic spirit in the present times. Experience teaches us that what has happened, may, in the course of events, happen again. Not only may time effect an alteration in the minds and manners of men, bringing them back to long forgotten habits-but the same individuals, placed in a different situation and circumstances, acquire new modes of thinking, feeling, and acting. "Is thy servant a dog, that he should do these things?" cried Jehu to the prophet, who foretold to him the bloody deeds he was speedily destined to perform. The exclamation was natural and sincere; his heart revolted at the picture thus presented before his eyes; but no sooner was he placed within the dangerous reach of power, than his actions fully justified the prediction. The English Catholic may be truly averse to deeds of cruelty. I believe the long local approximation to Protestantism has unconsciously infused a tincture of more tolerant principles; but if he is sincere in his faith, he must wish for its ascendancy, and consequently for the downfall of the Protestant Establishment. It must be remembered, too, that in the dreadful massacre of the Protestants in Ireland, in the time of Charles the First, the English Catholics of the Pale, as they were called, who were settled in that island, at first expressed disgust and horror at the barbarities committed by their Irish brethren; but example, and the exhortations of their Priests, soon infected them with the same religious mania, and they rivalled the natives in all their deeds of violence and cruelty.

The fate of John Huss, 'burnt alive by the sentence of the Council of Constance, notwithstanding the pledge of safety granted him, under the word of the Emperor, is one of the clearest

proofs of the genius of Catholicism, and of the regard in which the assembled pastors and masters of that church held promises made to persons whom they called heretics. Has there ever been any formal renunciation of this doctrine? Or has any censure been pronounced against these barbarous proceedings, by any Council, Pope, or other functionary empowered to promulgate the opinions of the Roman Catholic Church? If there has notif the Vice-gerent of Christ upon earth, as he is designated, has not plainly reprobated these atrocities, it is fairly to be inferred that the proceedings of the Council of Constance continue to be approved by the ruling powers of that church even to this day, however humane individuals may detest in their hearts, and even declare publicly that persecution is contrary to the principles of Catholicity. The public thanksgivings offered up by Gregory the Thirteenth, with all his Cardinals in his train, for the successful performance of a more extensive scene of blood, I mean the Massacre of St Bartholomew, in France, which that Pope himself instigated, clearly shew the opinion of the head of the Roman Catholic Church, at the subsequent period of a century and a half. It is natural, indeed, that a church which boasts of infallibility, should be extremely averse to acknowledge any error, either in faith or practice. Their tenets, they assure us, are the same as they were in the beginning, are now, and ever shall be. They have, however, a convenient way of escape, when pressed hardly on points which are too strong to be denied. Discipline," say the Roman Catholic Divines," may vary, but our doctrinal articles of faith are immutable." Let them avail themselves of all the advantages of this distinction; but let us take care that their discipline, whether old or new, be never forced on that freedom, which is the birth-right of the emancipated members of our National Church; to secure which, we can use no better means than to guard with the utmost caution, all access to political power.

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In treating this subject, I am desirous, as much as possible, to avoid touching on the affairs of Ireland, because the state of religion, in that country, is so much blended with political considerations, that I should enter upon too wide a field. I must,

however, be permitted to notice a broad assertion in the text of your let ter, that "Catholic emancipation was the price held out to the people, for bartering the independence and existence of their country." This is indeed qualified, or rather contradicted in a note; but as hasty readers are in the habit of passing over these appendages, the diminutive type of which does not much attract their observation, I will take leave to say, that the writer of these Remarks remembers the debate in the British House of Commons, in which the late Mr Grattan first ex

erted his eloquence on that arena, in behalf of the Catholics. On that occasion, Mr Pitt most distinctly denied that any such promise had been made; nor did Mr Grattan, or any other person, offer a word of contradiction; on the contrary, it was admitted by other members, who spoke on the same side the question.

The union with Ireland, however it may be represented by those who cannot be called friends to either of the sister islands, was a benefit of a

substantive nature. In Scotland, many voices were raised to as high a pitch against the measure which united her to England, in the reign of Queen Anne; but the advantages obtained by our northern fellow-subjects, have long silenced the unmeaning clamour of the loss of independence. There is no doubt but Ireland will gradually become as well reconciled.-But to return to the points from whence I have digressed, which are more immediately the object of this discussion.

Your Lordship is an enemy to tests, and to all restrictions made on religious belief. It might certainly sound better in the ear of a theoretical cosmopolite to announce, that the doors of the British Parliament were thrown open to Jews, Mahometans, and Hindoos, as well as to every sect and denomination of Christians. Some of the wisest men in this country, however, have been of opinion, that an established religion is a great public benefit. Without this, we might have very little religion at all. To destroy entirely this divine plant, which is naturally rooted in the human mind, would be impossible; but the innumerable weeds which would spring up in the soil for want of cultivation, would choke its growth, and even injure its nature. We should be conti

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It is surely sufficient indulgence, that mer may be allowed, within their own precincts, to cherish the thistles and the darnel, provided the seeds are not wilfully wafted into their neighbour's grounds. Let them foster the imaginations of their hearts, if they will be contented to do so quietly, and without offence; but to counterbalance these aberrations, let the religion which the State approves, abstaining from the odious means of restraining them by persecution, possess all the advantages of dignity and emolument, and let those who profess it enjoy all those offices, which lead to political power.

The Golden Rule of Pythagoras, which enjoins the worship of the gods, σε ως νόμω διακείται,” as by law established, is a very good general maxim. Every rule has its exception; and wherever a legal mode of worship shall be proved to be founded on wrong principles, or to contain absurd articles of faith; when flagrant abuses have perverted the best institutions, so as to render them injurious to the welfare of mankind ;-then is the time for conversion, or for reformation.

Such changes have, and will infallibly take place, at similar periods of human affairs. As to the Atheist, who, according to your Lordship's supposition, has a chance of being admitted to those advantages from whence the Roman Catholic is debarred, I acknowledge that a man, who is conscious of no state of retribution hereafter, ought, if possible, to be prevented from having any sway over the conduct of mankind here. But the unbelief in the existence of a Deity is so contrary to the general feelings of men, that it is difficult to imagine many Atheists ever to have existed. It may be truly said, changing

a little the language of the Psalmist, "Few fools have said in their hearts there is no God, although several have declared this opinion with their lips; and many have acted as if they thought - so." But if such a man should be found, and if this rara avis should contrive to take his flight to the summit of power, one advantage at least would attend his elevation, which

might not be the case with a Roman Catholic, he certainly would never harrow up the feelings of the country he was destined to rule, by exhibiting the spectacle of an Auto da fe.

I desire to subscribe myself, with due respect, your Lordship's most obedient servant, A PROTESTANT LAYMAN. February 28, 1822.

We insert, without hesitation, this communication from a respected and distinguished correspondent. But we expressly decline stating any opinion for ourselves as to this most nice and delicate question. We leave the subject quite open, and we are sure our Correspondent will be as happy as ourselves to see what any intelligent friend of a different way of thinking may judge fit to send us.-C. N.]

STANZAS TO AN OLD FRIEND.

Tandemque nobis exsulibus placent
Relicta.

CASIMIR.

COME here's a health to thee and thine;
Trust me, whate'er we may be told,
Few things are better than old wine,
When tasted with a friend that's old;
We're happy yet; and, in our track,
New pleasures if we may not find,
There is a charm in gazing back,
On sunny prospects left behind.

Like that famed hill in western clime,
Through gaudy noonday dark and bare,

That tinges still, at vesper time,

With purple gleam the evening air;

So there's a joy in former days,

In times, and scenes, and thoughts gone by,

As beautified their heads they raise,
Bright in Imagination's sky.

Time's glass is fill'd with varied sand,
With fleeting joy and transient grief;
We'll turn, and with no sparing hand,
O'er many a strange fantastic leaf;
And fear not but, 'mid many a blot,
There are some pages written fair,
And flow'rs, that time can wither not,
Preserved, still faintly fragrant there.

As the hush'd night glides gentlier on,
Our music shall breathe forth its strain,

And tell of pleasures that are gone,
And heighten those that yet remain ;

And that creative breath, divine,
Shall waken many a slumbering thrill,

And call forth many a mystic line
Of faded joys, remember'd still.

Again, the moments shall she bring
When youth was in his freshest prime,
We'll pluck the roses that still spring
Upon the grave of buried time.
There's magic in the olden song ;-
Yea, e'en ecstatic are the tears
Which will steal down, our smiles among,
Roused by the sounds of other years.

And, as the mariner can find

Wild pleasure in the voiced roar
E'en of the often-dreaded wind,
That wreck'd his every hope before,
If there's a pang that lurks beneath
For youth had pangs-oh! let it rise,
'Tis sweet to feel the poet breathe

The spirit of our former sighs.

We'll hear the strains we heard so soft,
In life's first, warm, impassion'd hours,
That fell on our young hearts as soft
As summer dews on summer flowers;
And as the stream, where'er it hies,
Steals something in its purest flow,
Those strains shall taste of ecstacies
O'er which they floated long ago.

E'en in our morn, when fancy's eye

Glanced, sparkling o'er a world of bliss,
When joy was young, and hope was high,
We could not feel much more than this:
Howe'er, then, time our day devours,
Why should our smiles be overcast,
Why should we grieve for fleeting hours,
Who find a future in the past.

T. D.

AUTUMNAL TWILIGHT.

A Sonnet. To

I stood at sunset on a litttle hill,

O'erhung and garlanded with tall beech trees;
The west was clothed in gold, and not a breeze
Disturb'd the scene-all was unearthly still;
And pleasant was the air, though somewhat chill,
As wont upon a clear September eve,
Methought 'twere then impossible to grieve, →
For placid thought o'ercame the sense of ill,
And a deep Lethe o'er the senses brought.

I gazed upon the waters-on the flowers→→→
The sky-the stirless woods-the silent leaves-
These, and the field-bird's cry amid the sheaves,
Flash'd back departed boyhood on my thought,

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And all the joys that then, loved friend, were ours.

A

Noctes Ambrosianae.

No. I.

CHRISTOPHER NORTH, Esquire, Solus.

Enter Ensign MORGAN ODOHERTY.

EDITOR

I am glad to see you, Odoherty. I am heartily glad of the interruption. I won't write any more to-night-I'll be shot if I write a word more. Ebony may jaw as he pleases. The Number will do well enough as it is. If there is not enough, let him send his devil into the Balaam-box.

ODOHERTY..

I have just arrived from London.

EDITOR.

From London ?-The Fleet, I suppose.-How long have you lain there?

ODOHERTY.

I have been out these three weeks. I suppose, for any thing you would have advanced, I might have lain there till Kingdom-come.

EDITOR.

I can't advance money for ever, Adjutant. You have not sent me one article these four months.

ODOHERTY.

What sort of an article do you want?-A poem ?

EDITOR.

Poems! There's poetry enough without paying you for it. Have you seen Milman's new tragedy?

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No; but I saw the proofs of a puff upon it for the next Quarterly. He's a clever fellow, but they cry him too high. The report goes, that he is to step into Gifford's shoes one of these days.

EDITOR.

That accounts for the puffing; but it will do a really clever fellow, like Milman, no good.

ODOHERTY.

It will, Mr North. I know nobody that puffs more lustily than yourself now and then.. What made you puff Procter so much at first?

EDITOR.

It was you that puffed him. It was an article of your own, Ensign.

ODOHERTY.

By Mahomet's mustard-pot, I've written so much, I don't remember half the things I've done in your own lubberly Magazine, and elsewhere. At one time I wrote all Day and Martin's poetry. They were grateful. They kept the whole mess of the 44th in blacking.

EDITOR.

Then you wrote the World, did not you?

ODOHERTY.

I never heard of such a thing. They've been quizzing you, old boy. Im postors are abroad.

EDITOR.

Then somebody has been sporting false colours about town.

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You've been writing in Colbourn, they say, Master Morgan?

ODOHERTY.

Not one line. The pretty boys have applied to me a dozen times, but I never sent them any answer except once, and then it was an epigram on themselves.

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