The Sun.
London, England, 1835-04-29 00:00:00

TO THE EDITOR OF THE SUN.
SlR,—Nothing is truer than that passion defeats what it has
in view, and ruins its own cause. The Tories, baffled and en-
raged, are st ;king right and left, regardless of all consequences,
in their insane zeal to compass their present designs, and do
not seem to be at all aware that, whether defeated or victorious,
when the storm is a little abated, their conduct will be freely
discussed, and the means they have employed unhesitatingly
exposed to public gaze. During the excitement which neces-
sarily accompanies the progressive course of great measures,
the indecency of priests and the illegal acts of noblemen may
pass unnoticed, which are, however, afterwards matter for
serious and universal reflection. flow then, let me ask, will
the poople of this enlightened nation view the conduct of
clergymen tearing up the pulpit stairs, and fulminating ana-
themas against our " infidel ministry"? In what light will
they regard the impudent and unlawful, but far more excus-
able, meddling of the Aristocracy in the election of their Re-
presentatives ? Will the sound portion of the community be
inclined to sanction such proceedings by countenancing men
who lean only for support upon outrages like these ? Will
they be unconcerned spectators of malignancy in the ministers
of the Gospel, who, instead of setting an example of sober dis-
cretion, are busy in sowing the seeds of individual uncharitable-
ness and general disorder ? Let the clergy of the Church of
England remember that if they preach a crusade against Pub-
lic Opinion, they arc voluntarily seeking that volcanic explo-
sion which will destroy them as easily as it can shiver into a
thousand atoms the most powerful sceptre: if they so far for-
get the sanctity and dignity of their office as to come forth the
champions of unblushing corruption--the soldiers of iniquitous
absolutism—they must take the consequences, and consent to
suffer unpitied and unhonoured. There was a time when the
people were ignorant enough to believe that a free expression
of opinion on public affairs was a sin of no venial nature—when
they imagined that the outward garments of devotion could not
but clothe a heart full of wisdom and piety ; but those sunny
days of despotism are gone never again to return—the cloud
of error so gross as this is removed, and although the first who
"dared the danger of the deed " sealed their boldness with
their blood, the liberty of millions has long since appeased
their injured manes. It is possible that, in reality; we are not
more virtuous than were our ancestors three hundred years ago;
but honesty is unquestionably more in fashion, an men have
become greater admirers of that system of right which they,
perhaps, still lack the courage implicitly to follow.. " Hence,
now-a-days, little respect is paid to crowns or initrestor shovel
hats, and rich and poor are alike compelled to pass through
the fiery ordeal of Public• Opinion : before this severe tri-
bunal we are brought, divested of all the gay trappings with
which fortune may have adorned us. In proportion as the indi-
vidual holds a responsible situation is the inquiry probed the
deeper, and the very power and affluence which-formerly
warded off, serves now as a broader mark for the arrows of
icrutiny. The Clergy, therefore,' have in "all tunes ar-
rested peculiar attention, and would that the yesult had
always been to their advantage. If we look at the in-
stitution of the Church , simply in a legislative point of
view, we must allow that no better plan could have been
devised than the parcelling out a county into small divisions,
and placing at the head of each a man whose education and
life would command respect and esteem. There is not a more
delightful spectacle to a sensible and well regulated mind than
that of a village population bound together by the strong ties
of charity, and " allured to brighter worlds" by one who himself
leads the way : no duty is more intimately blended with
pleasure than to listen to the unsophisticated and fervent lan-
guage of a christian minister, who keeps the golden medium
between enthusiasm and scepticism : no sight is more gratify-
ing to the philosopher than to witness the triumph of religion,
not, indeed, in the mournful rigours and abmutescent gloom
of the mistaken ascetic, but in the cheerful smiles and innocent
amusements of a happy flock united into one family by the
parish priest. A body composed of such persons would prove
an invaluable treasure, infusing throughout that moral tone
which is the sinew of a kingdom. This is the character that
Goldsmith has pourtrayed in verse which will be remembered
as long as poetry and good feeling are appreciated, and the
eloquent author of " Tremaine," a book which every young
man ought to read, has presented us with a most impressive
picture of a clergyman in the single hearted Evelyn. lam
aware that many are to be found at the present day, many who
in some obscute place are practising virtues which, though
forgotten and neglected by the world, are carefully registered
above, where they will receive rewards which neither " the
moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break
through and steal,"
" Unskilful they to fawn or seek for power
By doctrines 'fashioned to the varying hour;"
But these are only the exceptions—these are but poor curates,
whom insolent wealth has dared to call the INFERIOR CLERGY ;
men who have nothing to recommend them but laborious,
painful duties, performed without show, and with little remu-
neration. It is not from these persevering pioneers of Chris-
tianity that we hear the bloody—yes, this is the proper
epithet—the bloody cry of " No POPERY"—it is not this
simple-minded, but learned, class of men, who deem the sal-
vation of the Church is to be purchased by pandering to the
ferocious passions of a brutal mob—it is not the parish priest
who, however he may differ abuut political subjects, allows his
feelings to master his duty—who condescends to canvass for
this or that man—who fans the flame of sedition—and stirs up
the angry emotions of the mind. Generally speaking, this is
what the SUPERIOR CLERGY DO, and what THE INFERIOR
CLERGY DO NOT ; these are the charitable tactics of the gen-
tlemen with big wigs and silk aprons, who dine off silver, with
half-a-dozen powdered iacqueys smirking at their elbows ;
it is these higher dignitaries who are to stop the
awful spread of Popery by lining their pockets with
bank-notes ; it is these lowly, hard-working successors of St.
Paul, who, in lieu of the troublesome process of conversion by
education, propose handing over the refractory Catholic to the
faggot, or yielding bim up to the tender discretion of a san-
guinary multitude. It is useless to mince matters--if you
work upon the feelings of the lower orders—if you point to
any sect of your fellow-creatures, and denounce them as ob-
jects of aversion, as rallying marks for persecution, you may
call yourselves princes or bishops, but you are not entitled to
the appellation of Christians—you are opening the bags of
/Eolus, and suffering discord and sedition to sweep over the land.
It is a regular but erroneous notion to suppose that because
a man is an ecclesiastic, he is therefore not to have the ra-
tional enjoyments which money can command—the objection
lies in that splendour being bought at the cost of others who
are pining in distress. Again, no candid person will dispute
the perfect right of a clergyman to hold whatever opinion he
pleases, but the harm consists in their being maintained with
an acrimony unsuiting the sacerdotal robe; if these sentiments
alienate the love of his parishioners, and impede the genial
current of good feeling, a conscientious man would at once
abandon them, or resign his office ; he could not bring to the
altar a heart that would not beat in amity with all. He is ex-
pected to soften down whatever animosities exist ; he is to pour
oil upon the troubled waters, and calm the feverish mind.
Are these solemn and delicate duties reconcileable with poli-
tical agitation ? Can the mildness, the generous warmth
which such an office requires, dwell together in the same breast
that burns with enmity against, not one, but millions of our
fellow men? Reader, if you are an honest man, .know what
your answer must be.
The writer of these remarks is not actuated by a spirit of
hostility to the Church of which he is a member; were he a
foe he would silently rejoice at the present conduct of the
Establishment, because he well knows that it is sapping its
own foundation. I blush, sir, as I contemplate the sacred
edifice, supported not by the ffectiou of the masses, but by
pillars of gold—l blush when I behold the Church divided
within itself, and eager in pursuit of power and riches—l
blush when I hear it not whispered, but loudly proclaimed,
that the fate of the Church and Monarchy is worked together,
and that both, so different in their nature and origin, stand
upon the same basis. Would that my pen were eloquent
enough to paint the fatality of this mistake—to show how
weak is the capricious attachment of the few when compared
with the stable esteem of the many. But no ; when the
tempest has spent its fury—when the ruins of the Church lie
scattered on the ground—then will the voice of admonition
be heard—then, but too late, will protection be sought at the
hands of those who are now branded with the foul names of
sacrilegious plunderers. Fifty years ago, the wealthy and po-
tent clergy of France laughed at the idea of a revolution;
they could not understand the hints of Montesquieu, St.
Pierre, and others ; they could not believe it possible for any
human power to shake a dominion which had lasted for ages,
yes, and was c:-...-aented by the strong bond of unity ; yet those
who ridiculed the warnings of reason were burled from' their
lofty position, and bled upon the scaffold, or, exiles from their
home, died in poverty and distress amid pitying strangers,
and were buried by foreign hands. Clergymen of England
such was the end of men who would not believe the storm was
coming until it burst in all its fury over their heads.
M I L O.

SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.

NEWMARKET FIRST OCTOBER MEETING,

1835.
TUESDAY.

Match, 100, h. ft. T.Y. C.—Duke of Cleveland's c. by Emi-
lianus, dam by Sam, agst Mr. Greville'e Lieutenant, Set. 71b. each.

CRAVEN MEETINGS.
1836-THURSDAY.

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Sweepstakes of 200 each, h. ft. ; colts, Bst. 71b. ; fillies, Bst. 41b.
D.M.
Lord Orford's brother to Bodice
Mr. Greville's ch. c. Cicero
Sir M. Wood's b. f. by Bustard—Clare
1837--TUESDAY.

Sweepstakes of 200 sovs. each, h. ft. ; colts, Bst. 71b. ; fillies,
Bst. 41b. D.M.
Lord Orford's f. by Mulato—Angelica
Mr. Greville's Mango, brother to Pickle
Sir M. Wood's ch. c., brother to Glaucus
1838— THURSDAY.

Sweepstakes of 100 Boys. each, h. ft; for colts, Bst. 71b. ; fillies,
Bst. 41b., by untried stallions. R.lll.
Duke of Grafton's c. by Taurus—Dervise's dam
Lord Jersey's c. by Cetus--sister to Cobweb
Mr. Wilson's —, by Medora, dam by Figaro
Lord Chesterfield's f. by Priam—Routon's dam
Mr. W. Edwards's c. by Taurus—Destiny
Stafford Races will be revived this year.

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On Wednesday se'nnight, the headless trunk .of a
sailor was washed on shore near Williamson, Pembrokeshire.—
Cheltenham Jounial. •
A marked decline is said to have, taken {lade iu the
French trade to Constantinople. .Fiout the 19th of February
to the 26th of March; btit three vessels arrived from France at
that port, and only one. of- these carried the tri-coloured flag.
' One vessel alone-sailed-from thence-to-Marseilles, and that
a Sardinian,

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