ty, and probably dines once a month with Custos Rotulorum himself, if he does not ultimately sit for the county. This shifting of your ground won't do, Murdoch. It is very plain, on your poet's own showing, that you are no gentleman, even in your retirement; and if in this and other points the testimony in your favour is shaken, it must altogether fall. But if there is any truth in the passage quoted from Heron, assuredly it applies not to you but to me. Mutato nomine de ME Fabula narratur. There would be nothing absurd in applying to me all the encomiums that are so misplaced as they stand. The personal manners and refinement quickness of wit, and acuteness of judgment-the habits of obliging at tention and insinuating address, all belong more appropriately to Tomkins the Bagman than to any other being. Then unquestionable my peregrinations give me that opportunity of contemplating the manners of various men and various cities, and of acquiring an eminent knowledge of the world, the possession of which can be but scantily predicated of you. As to solitary wanderings and the formation of habits of reflection and sublime contemplation, who can boast of these advantages so justly or so largely as myself? Alone in my gig I traverse, not only the most populous, but also the most thinly inhabited districts of the island. Within an hour's drive from my own door in Sheffield, I find myself on my midland circuit in the wildest solitudes of the Derbyshire hills, and there, inspired by the genius of the place and an occasional auxiliary to enthusiasm of a more potent kind, I can indulge my sublime contemplations to a degree of intensity that would be incompatible with the prosecution of a pitiful pedestrian journey. With all these qualifications indeed, no wonder that I should be often the "best mirror of fashion" that a country bumpkin can dress himself by. But you that is a very different affair. Nothing more then need be said. The Excursion is undoubtedly a fine poem, and Mr. Wordsworth is the greatest poet of his day; but he was quite wrong when he chose you for a hero, instead of giving the preference to, Yours always, in the way of business, ISAAC TOMPKINS. On hand at present an unusually excellent assortment of grates, stoves, and fire-irons. The smallest order executed with the same punctuality as the largest. ON CATHOLICISM, PROTESTANTISM, AND PHILOSOPHY IN FRANCE. BY M. GUIZOT. WE have, in several papers of late years, given our readers many interesting details respecting the state of religion in France. We have therein expressed our opinion that the subject in that country is becoming gradually ascendant, and experience has completely justified this opinion. The very fact that M. Cuizot has felt himself called upon to publish a grave essay having the above title, proves this. That distinguished person is by his position, and the character of his mind, eminently a practical man, and he would not devote an hour of his time to any matter which he did not deem had immediate practical bearings. Religious questions then have it appears come to have an acknowledged importance to France, which will, we feel persuaded, become more and more prominent every day. When one of the most illustrious authors, and one of the soundest statesmen in Europe, gives to the world therefore under this conviction his deliberate thoughts on such serious topics, the sentiments he enunciates thereupon cannot fail to attract general attention, and to exert a considerable influence on the public mind. There is something very striking too in an active politician, in one who has been a leading Cabinet Minister in a great nation, and who is likely to be so again, considering discussions of a theological nature to fall within the domain of politics. But the reason of this is, that the political condition of the French kingdom is palpably affect ed, not merely remotely so, as it were, by under-currents of health or of disease, but materially, on its surface as well as in its heart, both by the general indifference and laxity, and by the very partial earnestness of religious belief which prevails throughout that land. It is then necessity-a dire political necessity which there urges men, engrossed in state affairs, to pay an anxious attention to the external effects of the two adverse Christian creeds, and of philosophy, in the positions which they respectively hold in France. Deeper than this they inquire not, and there is therefore nothing satisfactory in their speculations. Politicians who are philosophers rather than Christians are of all men the most inapt to understand even the political operations of religion. The little work of M. Guizot now under our consideration makes this utmost manifest. It is nevertheless a singularly important production. It may be almost regard ed as a historic document, and future historians may refer to it as to a most authentic source of information respecting the moral and religious situation of the French people at the present period. We shall consequently, although it has been already widely circulated in the French journals, lay it with as little mutilation as possible, before our readers. From its literary merit alone it deserves a careful translation. It is indeed, a masterpiece of the artful style of composition. Never before, perhaps, except in the writings of Bossuet, was there an instance of more skill than this essay exhibits, in giving to superficiality, by the shadow of a deep mind reflecting on it, the appearance of profoundity. We shall reserve our comments for the concluding part of this article, and proceed now to the translation. "It is," M. Guizot begins, "of Catholicism and of Protestantism, not of religion, nor even of Christianity in general, that I design to speak. Íregret that it is not possible to designate philosophy by any definite denomination. But to be at once and clearly understood, I hasten to say, that on the present occasion, I mean by philosophy, every opinion under any name or any form which admits not of any system of faith as obligatory on the human intelligence, and which leaves man, on the subject of religion, as on all others, free to believe or not to believe, depending solely on himself for his interior convictions. It is of France and of France alone that I write. The state of Catholicism, of Protestantism, and of philosophy, is not the same in France, after our moral and social revolutions, in a country which has undergone such revolutions, as it is elsewhere. I will advance nothing which does not result from positive facts, and * which cannot have a practical application. The moment has arrived to confront facts themselves, real facts, and to discard general terms which elude the questions they seem to decide. I am convinced that Catholicism, Protestantism, and philosophy, in the bosom of our new society, in the France of the Charte, may subsist together in peace among themselves, and with her, in a peace not only material but moral, not merely forced but voluntary, without renouncing or compromising their distinct and separate views,-in truth and in honour. This I will prove. "I maintain as my first argument absolutely, that this must be necessarily. The following is the state of things:-The Catholicism, the Protestantism, and the philosophy of the new French society can neither destroy each other, nor undergo such modifications as may seem good either to the one or to the other of them. They are ancient facts, powerful, full of life, indestructible, at least for an incalculable length of time. They have stood their ground in the midst of the severest trials-trials of periods of tranquillity and order-and of seasons of violence and chaotic confusion. Our New France, the France of the Charte, has been in process of formation and development for centuries. All things have warred with her, and all have concurred to her triumph; the church, the nobility, royalty, the court; the grandeur of Louis XIV., the indolence of Louis XV., the Wars of the Empire, and the Peace of the Restoration. She has risen above her own faults as above the ascendency of her enemies. Catholicism was born at the same time as modern Europe. in the same cradle. It has been identified with all the operations of European civilization. It has survived all its transformations. In our days it has encountered the most terrible shock which ever struck a creed or a church. It has been lifted up even by the hand of its destroyers. It is regaining strength visibly day by day. Let us enter domestic circles; let us visit the provinces, and we shall see what power it still possesses, despite the lukewarmness of many of its adherents, and even of many of its priests. The destinies of Protestantism in France have been severe. It has been opposed by our kings and the people, by the literature VOL. XLIV. 45 of the seventeenth century, and the philosophy of the eighteenth. At times it has seemed to be extirpated by Catholicism, and at others to be absorbed by philosophy; but it has succumbed neither to persecution nor to disdain; it subsists, and hardly has it been endowed with liberty, when it recovers at the same time its ancient fervour. As to philosophy, it has experienced many checks in the midst of its triumphs; its vanities and mistakes may be easily exposed; it has much to repair, but nothing to fear; it remains master of the field. The principles which it has proclaimed have become rights; those rights have become facts; the new social state which it has produced will be no less favourable to it than the old one it has vanquished. Evidently these three powers are full of life, and have long prospects before them. They have been roughly assailed, but in vain; they have received no mortal blow, neither are they more subject to change than to death. Doubtless they may adopt certain modifications in accordance with their new situation; they will listen to reason; they will recognize necessity; but without denying their principles, without abdicating their nature. Such concessions they cannot make; all that is characteristic and vital in them will endure. Without transformation then, and such as God and time has made them, they must exist side by side, under the same social canopy. "If they live not together in sincere peace, what will happen? We shall see recommence the wars which our fathers have witnessed; the war between Catholicism and Protestantism; the war between Christian creeds and philosophy; between the Church and the New State; we shall see a revival of every sort of fanaticism, lay and ecclesiastic, philosophic and religious. But this is not probable. One meets here and there, in books and in journals, sometimes even in graver publications, certain attempts towards such a retrogression, certain Catholic acerbities against Protestant impiety, Protestant against Papist idolatry, bigoted against reason and enlightenment, philosophical against faith and the clergy. Yet all this constitutes mere verbal disputes, often sincere, generally cold, and always impotent. No doubt the old leaven of hatred and of feud deposited in all human convictions, still remains there, but it can no longer find a response in society. It is abhorrent to our manners, and still more to our laws. The Will will soon be wanting, even in hearts most inclined to this evil disposition, to give it effect. Those who continue to preach irritation either in Christian communions among themselves, or from the philosophic chair against Christianity, preach with the voice of the dying, abandoned on a conquered field where they persist in remaining. Here is what is more likely to happen. Living neither in peace nor at war, neighbours without friendship, and jealous without passion, Catholicism, Protestantism, and Philosophy, and with them society at large, will become low, cold, end feeble. Dignity and force, which result from lively, moral reciprocities, will both fail them. A dry and sterile spirit will pervade their purely official and formal intercommunications. And we shall see that state of indifference, at once disdainful and subaltern, that naked frigidity of character, which must characterise communities depending barely on the mechanism of human laws, on a bureaucratic administration, devoid of morality, that is, of faith and devotion, spread, harden, become permanent, and in a manner legally and socially consecrated among men. Is it then to reach this goal that the human intelligence has for so many centuries unfolded its resources with so much brilliancy in our country? Is it to be quelled at this barren and ignoble term at this degradation, that all mighty believing hopes, that all puissant moral energies have striven together, with so much exasperation, and so much glory, for the mastery of our society? No. They must save themselves, they must save our country from this shameful peril. They must adopt, they must respect, they must serve loyally our new social state. They must live in harmony with mutual respect. I say they must. An immense advance is made in every great design, when success is regarded as indispensable, as vital. The conviction of necessity gives to those to whom this eonviction is pleasing, great strength; to those to whom it is displeasing, great resignation. A passionate desire is more sustain ing than deceiving. And certainly such an ardour ought to be felt here, for the honour and the moral repose of our society are for a long stretch of time at stake. It cannot remain in the state of apathy and disquietude, of languor and strife, in which it exists at present. The soul must have at once more activity and more security, a firmer resting-place, and a higher flight; and a real pacification of the great contending intellectual powers can then is this to be brought about? I alone accomplish this. How shall grapple without hesitation with the most prominent and gravest diffi culty which besets this project-the nature of Catholicism, and the condi tions on which alone it can subsist in harmony with the new society which has made with it, and on which it has retaliated such fierce war. leave out of consideration religious But I questions properly so called, questions which regard the intimate relations between God and man, in which the salvation of the human soul is interested. Its "Not that I regard those questions with indifference? not that their importance is not now what it has ever been, immensely dominant. It is essential on the contrary constantly to repeat this, for in our time it is too much forgotten. The real object, the root, the essence of religion consists in fact in its spiritual properties. morality is valuable no doubt as the rule of conduct of men in their intercourse with other men; it is valuable also in calming the mind to resignation in the midst of the trials of life. These are the effects of religion upon the earth, where it occupies a vast space. But its sphere of action is much wider, extends far beyond hu man society and the world; it binds of this awful communion, teaches him man to God, reveals to him the secret what he should believe, and what he should do in his connection with the Almighty, and in his prospects of eternity. facts, from which man may for a moThese are indestructible ment withdraw his attention, which he cannot efface from his nature. These are sublime wants, from which but he cannot dissever himself even when he abuses and denies them. The logic of these facts, the satisfaction of these wants, that is to say, doctrine and its consequences, is truly religion, is es pecially the Christian religion, the first which has really comprehended and embraced its object. But in these questions, and in the doctrines in which they receive their more specific expression, there is nothing which excites conflict between Catholicism and civil society. The State proclaims in this matter not only liberty but the rights of the Church, and declares herself incompetent to meddle with them. Under this point of view, therefore, peace is assured, and may easily be maintained with sincerity between Catholicism and our new society. The real difficulty lies in the following consideration. The government of the Catholic Church consists of a power in all matters of faith and salvation which claims the character of infallibility. I put aside, however momentous they may be, all second questions respecting what conditions, and within what limits, this infallibility exists, or to whom it belongs; whether to the Pope or Councils, or to the Pope and Councils united. I grasp the principle alone which pervades the Catholic faith under its every aspect. This principle itself is founded on the perpetuity of the Divine revelation, faithfully preserved in the Church by tradition; and in the case of need, renewed by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, which ceases not to descend upon the successor of St. Peter, placed by Jesus Christ himself at the head of the Church. This is the essential vital principle, the base and the pinnacle, the alpha and the omega of Catholicism. Before a power of such a nature, of such an origin, all discussion, all resistance, all separation is rebellious. The new society, the France of the Charte, has also her principle, which has become that of her Government. It is this, that all human power is fallible, and ought to be controlled and limited; that all human society, directly or indirectly, in such or such measure, under such or such form, has the right of controlling or limiting the power which it obeys. "I attempt not to attenuate the problem. I set forth with exactness the two principles; they differ essentially; it is said that they are at strife. They would truly be at strife if they ever met, if they acted within the same sphere. But here I again light upon the remedy which I have alluded to above. When the Church, many centuries ago, insist ed so perseveringly upon the distinction of spiritual and temporal things, she acted in the interest of her own dignity, and to establish her own liberty. But she did more, she maintained the dignity of human nature, and laid the foundations of liberty of conscience. The separation of spiritual and temporal things, the doctrine of the church, and the separation of the religious from the civil state, the doctrine of the charte, the independence of religious society in matters of faith, the conquest of the Catholic church in the first ages of our Europe, an dliberty of conscience, the conquest of our new society ;—these rest fundamentally on one and the same principle. In their applications and their forms they vary; in their origin and moral signification they accord thoroughly. Herein there is consequently a medium of pacification and of harmony between Catholicism and the new society. What is the obstacle to be encountered? One rather historic than rational, arising from the past facts of the ancient life of the two powers, much more than from their prime principles and their actual relations. The separation between spiritual and temporal affairs had its origin in the chaos of the middle ages. From thence it emerged like the sun from a dark and stormy sky. Principles, powers, ideas, situations, were all for a long time in this European world of ours pro digiously confused, obscure, inconsequent incomplete. For a long time temporal things were mixed with spiritual, and spiritual things which temporal, deeply and inextricably, in the existence and constitution of Church and State. Hence arose temptations and incentives frequent and terrible to reciprocal usurpations. The confusion of facts, and the violence of passions strove incessantly together against the principle which had surged up to regulate and appease them. But now, when those great ambitions which have troubled the world are no more than vain pretensions, it behoves them to avoid with care the last risk they have to run, that of falling into ridiculous wranglings. Let the two powers, instead of submitting to the painful abasement of a momentary replunge into the effete and putrid elements of the old confusion, recognise fully, in right and in fact, their mutual incompetence. Let each take up its firm position in its own sphere, and profess with energy its own prin |