The Sun.
London, England, 1845-01-28 00:00:00

Tr/141 StiN, LONDON, TUESDAY EVENING, JANUARY 28, 1845.

TILE THEATRES.
COVENT-GARDEN.
A new play was produced r,t this theatre last night;
it is in five acts, and its title is Honesty. Th 2 author
is not unl-tr• own to fame. We remember reading, not
with ,ut pleasure, a drama from his pen, called the
Lord of E'llinghanz, and, if we mistake not, the play
now produced, though new to the stage, has al-
ready issued from the press ; the adaptation of it,
therefore, was somewhat of an experiment, on what
the svncretics call the " unacted drama," of which
school there is too much that might also
be called unactable. Of the faults of that
school Honesty partakes largely; it wants
clearness in conception, and closeness in con-
struction ; it is dim and hazy, and even with the
strictest attention it is difficult to comprehend the plot.
The five acts follow, but do not seem to grow out of
each other. These defects, the ability of the per-
formers—and on this occasion they exerted themselves
to the utmost—do not compensate, and the result is
vague, indefinite, and confusi-,g, which is not cleared
up even at last. So much for the drama itself. For
the manner in which it was put on the stage, it is
worthy of all praise ; the scenery was excellent, and
the dresses new and appropriate; of the acting, it may
safely be said that it saval the play, but throughout
the performers had to struggle with unfavourable
materials. The play opens with a scene in the man-
sion of Douglass Trafford (Mr. Vandenhoff), whose
servants, with the instinct of the rats who fly from a
falling house, see the ruin of their master approach-
ing, and pay themselves by pocketing the plate.
Trafford enters with his steward, Fairfax (Mr. Bass),
and learns the full extent of his embarrassment,
his sense of which is increased by the appearance
of a bevy of creditors with their demands, backed
by the insolence of Master Deverill, a money-lender,
a part exceedingly well played by Mr. Rogers. In
the midst of his difficulties he resolves to woo and
win his cousin, Lady Julia Lancaster (Miss Vanden-
hoff), as it appears, partly at least for the sake of her
wealth, and puts off his creditors for the present with
promises. So ends the first act. In the second act,
Lady Julia appears surrounded by a crowd of lovers
—as mere a set of walking gentlemen as ever trod the
stage—and, with good reason, is exceedingly cold and
indifferent to them all; among them is a young advo-
cate, Francis Gage (Mr. Vining), whom the author
presents as an honest and scrupulous lawyer ; it
causes no surprise, therefore, to find that, though
very talented, he is very poor. On this occasion he
urges his suit with such warmth as to rouse the
passion of Trafford, who is one among the " mob of
gentlemen," and he strikes him with his riding-rod.
For this Trafford afterwards receives a severe
rebuke and a refusal from the lady, who
deigns not a word of reply to the young
advocate's pleading, and he returns disappointed
and desperate to his home. At this point the great
defect of the play is manifested. The third act opens
in Francis Gage's miserable chamber, where he is
preparing by night some documents for Deverill, the
money-lender, whose tenant he happens to be. Love
and the dreams of love retard his labours, and when
Deverill calls for the papers they are not ready. A
quarrel ensues, Deverill is struck to the ground and dis-
appears vowing revenge, but returns shortly afterwards
with two officers to turn Gage and his young brother
into the street for arrears of rent. At this juncture a
client enters to retain Gage to defend an individual
unknown charged with murder. He refuses, but the
client has already discharged the lawyer's debt, and
he is "retained" irrevocably, though he looks on the
task as pollution. It turns out that the murdered
man is Sir Philip Lancaster, the father of Julia, and
that Julia herself, with whom he is so deeply in
love, is suspected of having dispatched him
by poison. The moral scruples of the young lawyer
vanish, and he undertakes her defence, she having
come alone to solicit his advocacy. In this act Traf-
ford appears weighed down by remorse for some great
crime, committed the audience know not when or
wherefore. The fourth act contains the trial of
Julia, before a judge who indulges in very injudi-
cious and unjudicial prejudice and passion, abusing
the prisoner in very strong language indeed,
which we can pardon for the sake of the
magnificent burst of earnest, animated declamation
which Julia gives in reply, and which was really the
most effective passage in the play. This speech alone
would establish Miss Vandenhoff in the very highest
rank of English tragic actresses. We gather from a
scene that precedes the trial that her advocate has
displayed surpassing talent and eloquence, but he
fails. She is sentenced to the death of a parri-
cide, to be burned alive ; and all he can do is at the
last moment to claim for her the " wager of
battle," which is granted by the court, and the act
ends by Julia being re-conducted to prison, Traf-
ford having thrown down the gauntlet " on behalf of
the prosecution," and the lady being as yet unpro•
vided with a champion. The fifth act leads us to the
dungeon in which Julia is confined. She is visited
by the young advocate, and her proud spirit being now
subdued by imprisonment, she confesses that she does
and has loved him ! An attack is made on the prison
by the populace, who are persuaded of her innocence,
but she refuses to escape, and persuades the people to
retire. With an affectionate farewell to Francis, she
is led out to execution. The last scene is a public
place, with the stake and lists for the combat, but no
champion on behalf of innocence has yet appeared.
Trafford is present, in a fearful state of agitation. Julia
is about to be chained to the stake, when she demands
to speak with him. It then appears that Trafford is
the murderer, that his guilt is perfectly well known
to Julia, but that she has kept the secret in fulfil-
ment of a vow, which at the time the deed was com-
mitted Trafford has made her make. This is the
grand, we might say, the fatal error of the piece; of
the murder nothing is seen, of the vow nething is
known till the last moment, and then the motive of
the action, and the action itself, appear in the last de-
gree impossible and unnatural. ' Still Trafford will
not avow himself the murderer, and Julia is chained
to the stake for execution. Then the young advocate
enters "at the third summons," declares himself the
lady's champion, and takes battle-axe and shield
to do battle on her behalf. Trafford, though
weighed down by the consciousness of guilt, is
compelled to fight. He is about to enter
the lists, when he is presented with a cup of wine by
a page, who is a disguised Italian lady, Infelice,
whom he has seduced and deserted; she poisons the
cup from revenge, and by the poison, not by the hand
of his opponent, Trafford falls, before he dies declaring
the innocence of Julia. Thus ends the play. The
house was full, the applause was frequent, and at the
fall of the curtain Mr. and Miss Vandenhoff were
loudly called for —a compliment they well
deserved for their exertions, sometimes awakening li
attention, and always inducing forbearance, carried
the play through. But it wants vitality. Trafford's
villany is without strength and purpose; the audience
cannot gather from the action that he is the murderer,
and when it is known, there seems to be no motive
for it. Nor is a stern adherence to a vow to conceal
the murder of a father calculated to raise sympathy
for the principal female character. No effective drama
was ever yet founded on guilt without passion, crime
ithout motive, and sorrow without apparent cause,
or .a cause so imperfectly and so tardily developed as
to lhave no influence on the action of the piece. We
should not omit to state that Mr. Vandenhoff apo-
logiised to the author and the audience for the ineffi-
cien t manner in which he had performed his part ; he
was suffering, as he has for some time been, from in-
dispe, ,sition, which, indeed, was several times percepti-
ble. The author was called for, but he was not in the
house, and did not appear.

tion with Emile, to Lamberti's great an-
noyance. Madame Delbois (Mademoiselle Miry),
the sister of Emile, arrives, and then the tables are
turned, and Madame Jurigney is quite as much an-
noyed at the attentions which Lamberti pays to
Madame Delbois. At length, however, Lamberti
repents him of his peccadilloes, declares his intention
of quitting France for ever, and is of course forgiven
by his wife, and received with open arms. Made-
moiselle Nathalie, as Madame Jurigney, made a great
deal of a part which in other hands would have been
comparatively insignificant. She looked and acted the
pretty widow admirnbly ; while M. Lafont, as Lamberti,
was the very beau ideal of en homme a bonne fortunes.
The comedy of Pierre le Rouge is in the three epochs.
The first epoch is in 1788, and the scene is laid in the
country village of Mcsntdragon. Pierre le Rouge
(M. Lafont) is the mauvais srljet of the village—a sort
of French Will Fern—warm-hearted and generous,
hut coarse and brutal, because ignorant. Pierre le
Rouge is a poacher. No wonder, then, that he is
hated and persecuted by the Marquis d'Entraigues,
the Seigneur of the village—no wonder that his so-
ciety is scarcely tolerated by Madre (M. Tourillon),
the respectable village miller. Pierre, however, has
a heart, and that heart he has bestowed on the pretty
Jeanneton (Mademoiselle Nathalie), the coquette of
the village. It is the feast of the Rosiere—it is the
height of Jeanneton's ambition to be La Rosiere; the
Marquis promises not only to make her Ro-
siere, but to give her a handsome esta-
blishment in Paris if she will comply with
his wishes. The temptation is too great to be
resisted—the fickle Jeanneton falls. The pro-
cession of the Rosiere takes place. In the frenzy of
jealousy Pierre rushes upon her, snatches the wreath
from her brow, and tramples on it. The indignant
villagers rush upon him. lle seizes a flail to defend
hini§elf—he strikes one of the villagers with it, kills
him, and makes his escape. The scene of the second
act is laid in Paris in 1798. Jeanneton, as

the Citoyenne Cornelie, is the admired of
all admirers, and the reigning beauty at the
quasi Court of Barras. The Director, Pierre le
Rouge, who has educated himself, is, as Citizen
Quissac, a man of immense wealth and considerable
shrewdness, but of very vulgar manners. He dresses
in the extreme of the mode, and is exactly the beau of
the period of the Revolution. Cornelie has continued
faithful to the Marquis ; and now that, as a ci-devant
noble, he is proscribed and hunted down, she gives
him refuge in her hotel. Quissac is introduced to
her, recognises her, and renews his suit. She
refuses him. The guard enter to search for
the Marquis, and with the presence of mind
of a loving woman, she throws herself into the
arms of Pierre, calling him her dear Marquis. He is
arrested, but ie Marquis, who from his concealment
has heard all, advances and surrenders himself.
Cornelie drives off to Barras, to endeavour to obtain
his pardon ; and Quissac, who is involved in the
plot of Collot d'Herbois, is arrested, and sent off to
Cayenne. In the third act we find ourselves at
Montdragon, in the year 1818 ; Pierre, decorated
with the Legion of Honour, is a Count of the
Empire, and has purchased the chateau. He
has adopted Justine Rambeau, the grand-
daughter of the man whom, forty years before,
he had unfortunately killed. Every year he had
transmitted to Madre large sums of money for sup-
port of the Raimbeau family, the greater portion of
which Raimbeau had purloined. The Marquise
d'Entragues arrives, and desires to purchase what she
calls the castle of her ancestors. She is introduced to
the Count, who at once recognises Jeanneton. It
appears she had saved the Marquis's life, and he, out
of gratitude, had married her. He is, however, now
dead, and the airs of nobility of Madame la Marquise are
most amusing. She looks with the most perfectly well-
bred stare of disdain akthe barrack Count of the Empire,
as she calls Pierre, and talks about her ancestors in
the most amusing manner. Pierre, however, at
length forces her to recognise him, and Madre, who
subsequently' enters, recognises him also. Pierre
has, in the meantime, heard of the villany
of Madre, who, when accused of it, threatens
Pierre with exposure ; Pierre siezes the hypocritical
old rascal by the throat, and is on the point
of strangling him, when he is prevented by the
arrival of Jeanneton and Justine. He assembles the
villagers together, declares that he is Pierre le Rouge,
and exposes the villany of Madre, who, out of
revenge, is on the point of proclaiming the low origin
of Madame ; he is, however, stopped by Pierre, and
the old rascal is turned out of the village ; while the
lovers of 1788, Pierre and Jeanneton, are united
in 1818, as M. le Comte and Madame la Mar-
quise. The acting of Lafont in Pierre le Rouge
was perfect. The character gives him ample
opportunity of exhibiting the great versatility of his
talents, and he knew how to avail himself of it to the
utmost. Whether as the poacher, the vulgar fop, or
the gentlemanely old Count, he was equally admirable.
Mademoiselle Nathalie, too, was excellent; nothing
could exceed the naivete of her village co-
quette, the elegance of her grande dame, and the
rich affectation of her Marquise of the Restora-
tion. They were both called for at the conclusion
of the performances, and will no doubt become as
great favourites in London as they are already in
Paris. The house was well and fashionably attended.

revenge. She raises her piece, fires at the hus-
band, and lie receives a musket wound. The act
is not, however, unobserved. Jack Gong (Mr. Paul
Bedford) and Muster Grinnidge (proprietor of a
travelling caravan) have gone out to America to
procure Indians for exhibition in England ; in their
rambles they become witnesses of this tragical deed
Miami is dragged to the spot, and receives the dying
injunction of her injurer not to visit his offence upon
Geraldine. When he dies, she precipitates herself
into the river, but is saved by a party of French
officers, who happen to be passing at the time on a
raft, and is, by them conveyed to England. Before
quitting America, it is necessary to do justice to Jack
Gong and Muster Grinnidge, whose amusing perform-
ance forms a happy relief to the excitement of the plot.
In the third act, which brings us again to Ireland,
Miami reappears as Madame St. Aubert. The daugh-
ter of Geraldine comes, in a singular manner, under
her protection, having been previously purloined from
Nelly O'Neil, foster-sister to Geraldine, by Wild
Murtogh, now become the agent of George O'Ken-
nedy. Geraldine returns to Ireland, where she finds
the child with the former huntress ; George repents his
conduct ; and Wild Murtogh, his villanous agent,
is arrested on a charge of horse-stealing. The de-
nouement exhibits the death of Madame St. Aubert,
who consoles herself for causing the death of Connor
O'Kennedy by the reflection that she has fulfilled his
dying request, and by making over her estates in
France to the widow. The success of the piece was
complete, and the audience, at the conclusion,
crowned their approbation by loud calls both for the
actors and the author, who, on presenting themselves,
were rapturously applauded. The Corporal's Wed-
ding followed, and The Chimes concluded the
performance.

LYCEUM.
Last night, after the dramatised version of Dick-
ens's Chimes, which, looking at the thin attendance
previous to half-price, appears to have lost the charm
which novelty and the name of "Buz" gave it,
a one act farce, bearing the title of A Model
of a Wife, was produced here for the first time.
The plot, though slight, is amusing, and what is
more, it is somewhat original. A Mr. Pygmalion
Bonnefci (Mr. A. Wigan), the son of a retired French
toy-dealer from the Lowther-arcade, falls desperately
enamoured of a lay figure, which he has frequently
seen through the window of his opposite neighbour,
Mr. Stump (Mr. F. Matthews), -a jealous painter
and teacher of drawing. Mr. Stump imagines that
the object of the Frenchman's attentions is Mrs.
Stump (Miss Walcot), his young and newly-married
wife, and the confusion which this mistake occasions
amongst all parties gives rise to many laughable
situations. But Clara (Miss Fairbrother), Mrs.
Stump's niece, who has all, along supposed that
Bonnefoi's attentions are directed to her, ultimately
makes matters right, by transferring his affections
from the lay figure to herself, which she accomplishes
by dressing herself in the "dummy's" clothes. The
farce, which is smartly written, and lags not for an
instant in interest, was eminently successful. The
acting, we need scarcely say, was unexceptionable.

IRELAND.

ARCHBISHOP M•HALE ON THE IRISH CIIIIRP.H.
DUBLIN, JAN. 25.—The Evening Freeman's Joit.nal
contains the following letter:—
"TO THF: maul' HON. SIR ROBETT PEEL, BART.
"
"Si r6,—t. ja
I\' ri h
h tst '8;
T
you u am'
survey il' eastw' of i
St. Timothy,singular
4
satisfactionlBs.
the wide extent of spiritual bondage over Great Britain,
you are, doubtless, mortified by the painful contrast of
the spiritual freedom of Ireland. And anxious for the
diffusion of this religious thraldom, you fear that its
reign cannot be permanent or secure until the light of its
Catholic faith is extinguished in a country so conti-
guous as to be likely to become cont;:gious. It is not the
first time that Ireland, an exception to the surrounding
servitude, roused the envy of the despots who doomed
its liberty to destruction. Such was the policy, which
we are told by Tacitus, Agrippa had in contemplation.
He despaired of establishing the dominion of the kipe-
rial arms over Britain and Caledonia as long as Irish
freedom was, in the language of the ancient historian,
within view. And you, too, improving on his policy,
despair of perpetuating the worst despotism of heresy,
under which the once favoured land of England groans,
as long as the light and freedom of the Roman Catholic
faith burns with such steady strength and lustre in the
neighbouring island.
"Hence the untiring exertions of that Protestant
ascendancy, still so hostile, to extinguish a religion which
is a living reproach to the revolting errors that disfigure
the face of England. Witness the lamentable fruit of
those errors in the entire disorganisation of what is
termed the Church of England, and in the hideous in-
testine discord by which its crazy frame is falling
asunder. Witness, too, the dreadful immorality which
is their offspring, and the prevalence of those unpro-
voked and gratuitous crimes which, in despite of the
insolence of its journalists and the homage which wealthy
nations are sure to extol, even unto the palliation of their
vices, have made the moral condition of England a word
of warning over the civilised world. Are you ambitious
to sink Ireland to the level of the same degrading social
materialism ? Should you succeed, instead of the occa-
sional outbreaks of revenge which humanity abhors, and
which would have been frequent were it not for the in-
cessant influence of religion and its priesthood, you
would witness a fierce spirit of national indignation
which not two, nor all the spare legions within your
command, could repress. So much is the tranquillity of
the country and the stability of the throne beholden to
the pious and disinterested exertions of its calumniated
priesthood.
" The lamentable state of social disorganisation to
which I have alluded is felt and deplored by many of the
English prelates, who confess they are unable to apply a
remedy: witness, for example, the ludicrous embarrass-
ment of his Lordship of Exeter—to day issuing his
episcopal mandates for ecclesiastical uniformity, and re-
voking them again, it is said, at the imperious requisi-
tion of the Minister of the Crown. Such of the members
of that body as possess a tolerable share of learning,
whose intellect ranges beyond the small pale of the An-
glican Establishment, and the brief period of its disastrous
schism, surveying the social happiness enjoyed by the
nations when the Church was not the chained handmaid
of the Crown, are in a condition the most pitiable. While
their zeal is animated by the heroic fortitude of the an-
cient champions of the freedom of the Church they fancy
for a time that they can imitate their example. No
sooner, however, do they engage in the attempt than
they are obliged to own that from the Establishment,
though retaining some of the material features of a
church, the spirit that animated and informed it is gone;
and instead of the holy vigour of an Ambrose or an
Anselm, who arraigned the cruel delinquencies of royalty
itself, they are silent on the crimes of the nation, because
they must regulate, by the nod of a political minister,
the nature of the pastoral instructions.
" No doubt you are anxious to bring about a similar
reform in the Catholic Church in Ireland. If so, you
must expect it will be productive of the same disastrous
results upon morality and order. It is as a step to this
complete subjection of the Catholic Church to the State,
which, no doubt, is your aim, you have introduced the
fatal measure of the Beque is Bill, and by its fruit you
may judge of the wisdom of the policy which, in an evil
hour, you have adopted. You have avowed that your
difficulty was Ireland. Have you not increased and
thickened those difficulties by this disastrous measure ?
Never, within the memory of the oldest of its inhabi-
tants, was Ireland in a state of more frightful excitement.
And why ? From the encroachment you have striven,
but I hope in vain, to make on the freedom of the Ca-
tholic religion. And allow me to tell you, in all since-
rity, that, as you are now about meeting the Parliament,
your first measure must be the repeal, the total repeal
of that penal law, root and branch, if you wish to restore
tranquillity to Ireland. I will not fatigue you or the
public attention with the detail of any of the arguments
against this iniquitous law that are now as fami-
liar as they are forcible. Whoever can resist the
evidence adduced by Sergeant Sheet and principally by
Mr. O'Connell, of the ruinous effects of that law, if un-
repealed, on the best interests of the Catholic religion.
must have an understanding steeled by prejudices which
no argument can apprcrach. The question has been so
argued that persons the most illiterate, as well as the
most enlightened, are in possession of those arguments,
anti hence an intellectual and religious opposition to that
measure, deep, wide—embracing all orders and all
classes—laity, clergy, priests and bishops, gentry and
peasantry ; in short, spread over the entire country, and
fast as the hold which their faith has on its people.
" When it was announced that three estimable and 1
venerable prelates were associated to the Commission to
carry this odious act into effect, the public mind was
stunned, and a sudden grief fell on the heart of the na-
tion. Their sorrow was intense ; they felt by the novel
connection that the freedom of their Church was in mani-
fest danger, and the appointment, like a dam chafing and
fretting the current which it was intended to check,
raised it still higher and gave it further force.
" There are not in the world a people who feel more
veneration for their prelates than the Irish people, and,
therefore, you must suspect that the measure .must be
bad which could produce dissensions in a body, the
members of which the spirit of Catholic faith and con-
cord keeps, in general, so closely compacted. It re-
quired no extraordinary sagacity to perceive that you,
in looking for the aid of Catholic bishops, sought not to
support the Catholic religion, or to exalt its priesthood,
but rather to buttress the tottering fabric of Protestant
ascendancy. If you meant, as in policy as well as jus-
tice you should have done, to legislate on a principle
of common fairness towards the Catholics, why not
recognise in law those canonical rights and apostolical
jurisdiction on which this penal law incontestibly en-
croaches ? Yet, with the attempt to injure and de-
grade, you, and a few hollow economists, take credit to
yourselves for acknowleding, for the first time, the
rights and titles of the episcopacy in Ireland ? Yes, you
acknOwledge to insult them, and even the honour
you show has in it all the bitterness of scornful derision.
How do you honour even those venerable prelates whom
you have made members of your ministerial board? By
giving them the titles of bishops without sees, and em-
blazoning over their heads the sole and exclusively legi-
timate titles of others to the same sees which their sainted
and heroic predecessors would never have consented to
acknowledge.

" There cannot be two lawful bishops of the same see.
The respective epithets of Catholic and Protestant might,
if compromise could ba at all admitted, mark the distinct
sources of their Apostolical or Parliamentary jurisdic-
tion. But instead of this, the Protestant prelates are
blazoned forth as the Archbishops of Armagh and Dub-
lin, without any qualification, while, in insulting and sub-
ordinate contrast, the Catholic prelates are announced as
archbishops of—nowhere. But you give them a prece-
dence, a rank in society ! Yes, you strip them of their
rights, as far as in you lies. You amuse them with the sha-
dow of ceremony, which is unmeaning but as far as it is
significant of substantial rights and duties. And you
humble them with the condescension of your insulting
patronage, such as you would exhibit to some exiled and
fallen dynasty, fixing on them more strongly the gaze of
pity. by the mockery of a homage of which you disown
the legitimate fouedation. What would her Prime Minister
think of the respect of any individual for royalty who
would allow her Majesty the name of Queen, withholding
her rightful titles of Great Britain and Ireland, on which
it is founded ? Surely, the recognition of her name
could not disguise the want of fidelity necessarily included
in any such omission of her rightful title. Of what in-
consi►tency and confusion is not bigotry productive ?
You would fain confer on some of our bishops a Parlia-
mentary jurisdiction which you are incompetent to give,
and deprive others of their apostolical jurisdiction, which
you are as incompetent to take away. And, by way of
indemnifying the one for the indignity of master slaves,
to which you labour to degrade them, you give them
ministerial licence of making a similar invasion on
the apostotical rights of their brethren. You expect
that you will do all this to prolong the existence of
that anti-national and odious Establishment, some of
whose prelates, their fellow-benchers, poured forth but
the other day their usual contributions of orthodox
hatred on the idolatry and tyranny of the Church of
Rome. But, no ; more valuable by far than the degrad-
ing honours of the oppressors of the faith are the confi-
dence, the attachment,. and affection of the devoted
Catholics of Ireland, who, instead of denying the titles,
the jurisdiction of their beloved bishops, will revere them
as the only legitimate occupants of the thrones which
some of the most eminent of the successors of the Apostles
have adorned.

" Immediately connected with this subject is the
affectation of a new-born reverence among the here-
ditary enemies of Ireland for the rights of the Roman
Pontiff. If you really revere the centre of Catholic
unity, why endeavour to strip the Catholic bishops
of their titles, which his Holiness has conferred, and
without which, and the spiritual influence they
confer, none of those bishops would be deemed
worth a moment's negotiation to relieve the embar-
rassments of a Prime Minister. Perhaps this feeling is
like the prodigal's appreciation of virtue, from the habit
of sinful courses, springing from the evidence of the
disorders into which a privation of that light which issues
from the Apostolic See has so long plunged the popula-
tion of England. If so, then we should hail such a
feeling, and help their faint and tottering steps in re-
turning to the light and merciful consolations of that
paternal home from which they have been so long stray-
ing. Oh ! no, it is the envious feeling of the fallen
spirit at the happiness springing from truth and union ;
and their tongue, like his, strives to dart forth in glozing
flattery the venom of destruction. They may spare
themselves their officious solicitude about the conduct of

the Catholics of Ireland. In the fight for their faith the
Irish Catholics are no raw recruits. Thanks to the per-
secuting policy of England, and the atrocious code of
her sanguinary edicts, the Irish Catholics, in defend-
ing their faith, have been made the most prac-
tised champions upon earth ' • and they have not com-
bated so triumphantly and so long without the convic-
tion that they owe their signal triumphs to their unex-
ampled fidelity to that holy chief whom the Master
placed over the Church for their guidance. They will
then cling—as their pious ancestors have done—cling to
the rock of Peter ; they shgll labour, too, for the peace-

ful recovery of all those rights of which, on account of
their attachment to the chair of Peter, they have been
deprived—nor shall they suffer any power of Parliamen-
tary creation to intercept one particle of that homage we
all owe his Holiness, or of that spiritual jurisdiction, of
which he is the best guardian. And allow me to ask
you, who are they who in reality are making inroads on
the power of the Pope, and striving to make a mockery
of his jurisdiction ? Is' it we who constitutionally
labour for the repeal of the Bequests Act, which
is repugnant to the canons of the Church, and not in
accordance with the principles of the Catholic religion
or those who, without consulting the Holy See, strive
tyrannically to enforce so penal an enactment ? Before
the Commission was named we sought, as was the duty
of Catholics, that this question should be re:erred to the
decision of the Holy Father ? We were told why refer
to the Holy Father a question regarding mere tempora-
lities ? Such was the unceremonious way in which the
authority of Rome was treated. The people meet—re-
solve, denounce the unconstitutional encroachment on
their civil rights : they are told that they violate the
obedience due to their spiritual superiors by their deli-
berating and resolving on a matter which they should
leave to a spiritual tribunal. Thus the Pope inu,t not
decide because it is a temporal matter ; the people must
not decide because it is a spiritual concern, and during
this unprincipled and sophistical shifting, the prophecy
of a celebrated writer is sought to be realised by the
erection of a ministerial and political papacy in our own
kingdom, directed by the nod of the Premier, disregard-
ing on one hand the authority of the Pop:, and on the
other striving to crush the religious and political rights
of the people.
" Whoever reflects on the career of Mr. Anthony
Blake, his evidence before a Committee of the House of
Commons, and his being a member of this Commission,
must, unless the Commission be speedily dissolved, enter-
tain serious fears for the continuance of the Pope's sub-
stantial authority in Ireland. When I consider that he
has been the old advocate of the veto, and of every mea-
sure for fettering the freedom of the Catholic Church, the
pliant and dexterous follower of every successive Admi-
nistration, whether Whig or Tory, the self-appointed
patron of Maynooth College, in order to project, I sup-
pose with Mr. Thomas IVys:, how far it may be feasible,
by a little dOniestic concordat, to effect some change in
the system of the teaching of its faith, for an increase in
its finances. In short, the concoctor of a scheme of a royal
Commission of bishops to manage the payment of the Ca-
tholic clergy, and to inflict the penalties of misdemeanour
on the others who should not yield to the usurped
powers of political bishops of the Parliamentary Com-
mission. When I consider how on that occasion he
trifled with the authority of the Pope, recommending a
course of penal legislation, and then leaving the Pope to
shift for his own authority the best way he could; when
I reflect that much of what.has been suggested has been
already done in establishing the Commission of the Be-
quests Act, lam only consolei by the reflection that
the mischievous projects of the man will be defeated by
the pious zeal of the Catholics of Irelond in procuring a
total repeal of the law, and, were it not for this their zeal,
I fear that as a public and political character history
would have to record, that since the disastrous event of
Protestant ascendancy a worse importation, or one more
fatal to the Catholic religion than the same Mr. Anthony
Blake was never wafted back to Ireland. To Lord
Stanley this gentleman would be a most valuable acqui-
sition in the colonies. How humiliating the prospect
of the once glorious Church of Ireland, when its pastors
allowed their holiest rights and duties to be invaded and
usurped by such scheminc, political adventurers.
"I cannot, therefore, but deplore the misdirection of
the patriotic feelings of some ardent Irishmen combating
the phantom of a foreign temporal power, while they
are heedless cf the enemy that is threatening them at
home. Instead of being alarmed at the exercise of any
undue power from abroad, what is desirable is to pre-
vent any encroachment on the Pope's hallowed autho
rity in protecting our Church. Some are also in ecsta-
cies rather immoderate at the diplomatic announcement
that no negotiations are going forward on the affairs of
the Irish Church between the Holy See and the British
Government. Even should their not, what grounds are
there for congratulation ? What need you require a
concordat, if, even without one, you can erect your
Commission at home, and delegate to it a Parliamentary
jurisdiction to invade the rights of the Catholic
hierarchy ? What more do you require ? Lord Hey-
tesbury hopes, indeed, that the Catholics of Ireland
will, therefore, be contented. Yes, they will be less sus-
picious when the Bequests Act is repealed, and the Be-
quests Board dissolved ; otherwise his Excellency's pro-
position amounts to this Be not alarmed ; we have
only made a breach in the walls of your Church ; hold,
forbear your meetings ; put confidence in us, your old
and trusty friends, and we will pledge ourselves to halt
at the gates and make no further advances on your re-
ligion.'

It is also made a subject of similar congratulation,
that should a concordat be negotiated, all then would
assist in averting such evils from the Catholic church.
Instead of wasting our solicitude on distant and con-
tingent dangers, we should be alive to the imminent evils
of the Commission now established at home, and labour
to close the breach which has been recently made in the
bulwarks of its holy discipline. It will not be enough
to say—' Allow the present incipient usurpation of the
rights of the bishops to be firmly established, and in
future they will obtain every necessary assistance in
repelling future aggression.' Such is their mode of deal-
ing with the evil who talk of amendments in the Act,
and the removal or modification of this or that objec-
tionable clause, while they allow the encroaching and
invading principle of the Commission itself—the vigorous
root of the evil—to remain. No, the successful step of
letting any portion of the Act remain would only prompt
you or any other Minister to invite other prelates to join him
in a fresh assault on our liberties, by another new Com-
mission still more penal ; the example once given by
good and enlightened men, of joining one Commission
in disregard of the known wishes and feelings of, in
general, the people, the clergy, and the majority of their
brethren, might be successively adopted •at some future
day by others improving on their models, until the citadel
of Catholicity would thus be surrendered, and almost
all the sacred functions of the hierarchy be usurped by
motley aggregations of political and Parliamentary
Commissioners.

" Let, then, your first recommendation to Parliament
be, the repeal of an Act which the mischief already pro.
duced should he a warning of the more awful calamities
with which it is fraught. A law so penal to religion,
and so utterly repugnant to the interests and declared
will of the entire people, would, according to all sound
civilians and jurists, be downright tyranny to enforce.
You feared, if we are to judge of the night combinations
of law and armaments to which you resorted to crush
them, the display of popular power exhibited by these
monster meetings. The malignant spirit of your Be-
quests Act has evoked a far more formidable agitation.
Yes—the people of Ireland, and its clergy, love their
country. They are solicitous for its prosperity, and will
give every aid compatible with their respective duties
towards the restoration of a native Legislature. But,
they love their religion more—the one being a temporal,
and the other an eternal interest. Indeed, so much are,
Ireland and the Catholic religion bound up together in
the system of English domination, that it would be diffi
cult to separate the interests of one fiom the other. To
the spoliation of their country's rights, religion has often
reconciled the Irish people. Their history has attested
that they are a nation who, for that holy religion, are
ready to sacrifice their lives.
" I am your faithful servant,
JOHN, Archbishop of Tuam."