And that this operation would take place, on the first opportunity, is as certain as that "Peter's pence" were once raised in England with as much regularity as the king's taxes; that every Papist in Europe paid his portion of pence to Rome; that every bishop received his mitre from Rome; and that Rome never gave anything without a sum in hand, or a handsome promissory note—and that Rome boasts of being always the same. All this traffic would be under the name of charity; the old cry of Judas, "Ought not this ointment to have been sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor?" would be echoed by the new keeper of the bag; and we should establish an annual drain of our circulation, to which all the contrivances of taxation would be child's play. For what could be the limit to the demands of foreign avarice invested with domestic authority, extortion calling itself zeal? or what could be the limits of a market selling absolution here, and Paradise hereafter, to profligate men and silly women—to lives wallowing in voluptuousness, and death-beds groaning in despair? It has been distinctly stated that, at the Reformation, one-third of the whole land of England had been absorbed into the possession of the Popish priesthood!
In all the annals of usurpation, there never was a broader grasp than in this Bull; in all the annals of effrontery there never was a more impudent assumption; but, in all the annals of infatuation, there never was an act of more headlong absurdity. It instantly roused the whole people; it reinforced every argument of the honest against Popery; it overthrew every pretence of the dishonest on behalf of Popery; and it worked the still greater wonder of forcing the loose and the lukewarm, the waverers and "waiters on the turn of things;" the "decently" knavish, the "respectably" hollow, and the "reputably" unprincipled, to acknowledge that Popery was really a "presuming kind of thing;" and that it ought to be, in some delicate way or other, if possible, put down.
But England contains other men than those smirking scandals to manhood. The nation burst out into a flame of indignation wherever man met man: in whatever occupation, in whatever rank of life, under whatever form of politics, in all hues of religious opinion, there was but one language. "Was ever insolence like this? Is a foreign friar to carve out the empire? Is a worshipper of stocks and stones to teach us religion? Is a persecutor to mutilate our laws? Is a despot to scandalise our liberties? Is the dependent of France, of Austria, or Spain, or any power that will suffer him to hang upon it, to be the actual divider of England among his dependents? Is a demand of power and possession, that would not be endured in any Popish country of the earth, to be quietly submitted to in the chief of Protestant kingdoms? And is this most insolent of all aggressions to be inflicted by the meanest of all sovereigns on the most powerful of all nations, and that nation the one which has most triumphantly abjured Popery?—England—whose fathers drove it headlong from the land, and cashiered a dynasty for daring to attempt its return; whose Constitution loathes its tyranny, whose honour abhors its artifice, whose literature exposes its deceptions, and whose religion brands its apostacy!"
That this description of the national feeling is not exaggerated, must be evident from the tone of the numberless speeches made at the parochial and provincial meetings, immediately on the publication of the atrocious Bull. The clergy of London and Westminster, as first insulted, took the lead; and their language expressed the natural feelings of offence and scorn excited by this intolerable presumption. The sentiment was unanimous.
Of course Rome is at her old work, and every trick is tried to smooth down the universal disdain. A Dr Ullathorne, who has taken time by the forelock, and bemitred himself without delay, wishes to tell the world that the Bull is a very harmless bull indeed; that the Vicars-Apostolic only wished for a change of name; and that the appointment of dioceses is merely what the Wesleyans and Sectaries effect, in marking out their preaching districts year by year.
But, do the Wesleyans give their preachers titles and badges of dignity? Do they locate them in cathedrals, build palaces for them, and enjoin the whole body of the faithful to "supply the splendour of their worship and themselves?" Do they declare that everything in religion is false but Wesleyanism; that all else have no orders, no Baptism, and no Christianity; that all other beliefs are rebels to the supremacy of John Wesley, and are liable to be punished as rebels in the coming day of Wesleyan power? That such poor evasions should be attempted is a scandal to the talents of Rome as an equivocator, but is not less a scandal to the brains of the man who attempts them, for they can deceive no one. They certainly have not deceived "Father Newman," who daily trumpets forth the triumph of the Bull; nor "Dr Wiseman," who has, by virtue of his red hat, ordered his jubilate to be chanted in every Popish chapel of London; nor the Liverpool Papists, who have actually sung Te Deum on the national victory of Popery; nor have they deceived even the English prelacy, who had gone so much farther than the winking Virgin, and seemed not inclined to use their eyes at all.
Nor will they deceive the people of Scotland, who, in the land of John Knox, are not forgotten by the Pope, but are understood to have allotted to them seven bishops by his provident bounty, seven delegates of Jesuitism, seven ambassadors of his triple-crowned highness, seven sons of the Scarlet Lady of Babylon, seven "purple and fine linen" representatives of Dives, before he was sent "to his place."
In the midst of this busy period, a letter appeared from the pen of the Premier. It was received by the multitude with a burst of acclamation; for this there were reasons of very different colours. Some were glad that Ministers could feel anything on a religious subject; some, that Lord John was on the national side; some that, after having so long raised the suspicions of one side, he had at last challenged the hostility of the other.
We must acknowledge that our gratulation was not altogether so ardent, and that we conceived this letter to be very much more the offspring of his Lordship's fears than his feelings. It was obviously unfortunate that his zeal had been kindled so late, there being no imaginable doubt that the Pope had marked out Westminster for the See of his new Archbishop several years ago. And it is clear, that the appointment of one Archbishop would have been as great an encroachment as the fixture of fifty. The principle was there, and it would evidently be prolific. Yet not a syllable of remonstrance had transpired. Wisdom was silent in the streets, and precaution slumbered within the Cabinet curtains. Whitehall was as quiet as Lambeth, and Lambeth of course was Lethe. No Minister hurried to the palace, with pallid lips and faltering nerves, like him who
"Drew Priam's curtain at the dead of night,
To tell him Troy was burned."