to her liberty and morality permit this Order of men to remain on her soil. The judgment of England would have carried weight; that of France is crushing. But the crushing weight of this judgment falls on a far larger confederation than the Society of Jesus. It is the principles of the Church of Rome on which France has sat in trial, and on which she pronounces this condemnation. The condemnation of the Jesuits is the condemnation of Rome. It is that so-called Church weighed in the balance by her own sons and found wanting-so grievously wanting that neither liberty, nor knowledge, nor morality, nor even society, can exist along with her.

CHAPTER XVII.

The Jesuit in Families.

THOUGH France is the more noted instance of Jesuit banishment, it is not the only one. The Fathers have been chased from Germany, from Belgium, from Italy, and from Switzerland. This has assembled them in England, which once more has become the European focus and rallying-ground of these inveterate plotters and inextinguishable incendiaries. It seems bootless to discuss the question of admitting them, seeing they have have already been admitted. Had that question been still to be discussed, we should have put it to the Popish nations"Shall we admit these men?" The answer would have been "No: we have driven them out of our own territories, although of the same faith." We would have put that question to history. History would have returned an emphatic "No;" and it would have enforced that "No," by pointing with its warning finger to the black indictment against them, over which, in its leading events, we have rapidly gone.

We have been accustomed to welcome the refugees of all countries, without question asked touching their political or their religious creed. So say many. But these men are neither political nor religious refugees. It is not against this Government or against that; it is not against this religious creed or against that that these men are in revolt. They have burst the bonds of human society; they have razed the foundations of eternal morality; they are rebels against all Governments, offenders against all creeds. As such, they can claim the protection of no law, and the asylum of no country. They who have renounced all obligations, have thereby forfeited all claims. The denial of all the rights of others is the annihilation of their own.

But, it is again urged, to what practical end forbid the admission of the Jesuits? You may as well try to shut out the winds, or frame an edict against the entrance of evil spirits. We grant that the Jesuit can pass, whenever it suits him, into another shape, and become as viewless as the winds, or as the spirit whose step no one hears, and whose form eludes every eye. You banish him in his character of priest to-day, he returns to-morrow in the guise of a pedlar, or of a shoemaker, or, it may be, of a foreign scholar or count. It does not follow, therefore, that it is wise to leave our law wholly inoperative. It is some defence to the citizen to have it declared that these men are unlawful intruders into our country; and that their residence in it is in violation of the statute. Besides, whatever difficulty may exist as regards the individual Jesuit, there is no difficulty as regards those formidable organised fraternities which are planting themselves down east and west, north and south of our country; and are rearing their palatial edifices on the shores of the English Channel, on the banks of our Highland lochs, in the heart of our great cities, beneath the shadow of cathedral, and amid the quiet pastoral scenes of our rural districts, displaying, to

the astonished eyes of the uninitiated, mansions sumptuously furnished with couches and marbles, with the rich fabrics of the loom, and the chef d'œuvres of art, and the not less sumptuous outside garnishings of lawns, fountains, and shady walks, attesting the bounteous care with which the "Church" provides for the delectation of the men who have devoted themselves to her service, and who, the better to discharge it, have taken upon them a vow of poverty.

Over the neck of our law hundreds of Jesuits have already entered our country, and hundreds more are to follow. What recompense will they make us for the hospitality we are extending to them? The same which they made to the Protestants of Poland, to the Huguenots of France, to the Puritans of England in a bygone age. Making a loud boast of their zeal for education, and their special talent for imparting it, they will first tax us for the erection of their schools, and then they will seek, by the lure of a free education, to draw our youth into them. What an elegant latinity, what a polished manner will they impart to our young gentlemen, to the admiring delight of many a proud mother and many an equally fond father! What perfect masters in the science of tactthat first of all the virtues in the opinion of many-will the Fathers show themselves in the drawing-room! What paragons of gentility! How courteous! how bland! Not for a world would they offend the taste or hurt the feelings of any one! How ready with the right compliment, at the right moment, and how prettily said! How overflowing in charity to all mankind, and in particular to the Protestant portion of it! What a power to read faces, and with what an unerring instinct will they find their way to the frivolous, to the sentimental, and, above all, to the rich, that is, to the weak side of such. How delightful to listen as they talk on art, on fashionable literature, on foreign travel, and similar topics, but never on thorny

theologies. How prodigiously have Romanists been misrepresented! will the easy-going Protestant exclaim. What could more enliven an evening party than the presence of such amiable, accomplished, and well-informed gentlemen? "We are delighted," will mine host and hostess say, on bidding them adieu for the night; "let us see you often."

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After these playful preludes will come serious business. At the second or third visit from these gentlemen and ladies in masks, some one member of the family-one is enough to begin with-will be singled out as the object of special atten tions. We shall suppose that the party to be operated upon a lady. Her foibles and partialities have been previously noted, and her new acquaintance suddenly surprises her by displaying a passionate fondness for the very same objects which are favourites with her. It may be a picture, or a poodle-dog, or a canary bird, or a new novel, or some art or study—it matters not what; it is a link of sympathy; it is the needle that draws in the thread of religious discussion. Cautiously the subject of the differences betwixt the Popish and Protestant Churches will be approached. "What a number of sects you Protestants form," exclaims the Romanist, playing on mere names, and ignoring the substantial agreement in all cardinal points in the Protestant world. "Let us see, quite a host, some score, some fifty, some hundred denominations. Which of all these is the right one? which of you has the true religion? Ah, well, thankful I am," he will piously ejaculate, raising his eyes, "that I do not dwell in that Babel." When it is seen that the thrust has told, then is the moment for bringing into view the unity of the Roman Church. "We are one," will the Romanist exclaim with an air of exultation; "one over all the earth! A grand old indestructible unity." And yet Rome is the real Babel. The word "Church" covers a multitude of motley and conflicting opinions, controversialists, and orders, held

together simply by the force of Papal authority. Such is her "Church" surveyed within, but viewed from the outside it appears, not what it is, a great confusion, but a great unity.

Following up his advantage, the party attacking continues: "We are the Old Church. You Protestants date from only the sixteenth century. Your religion had no existence till the days of Luther. We, on the other hand, are the ancient Apostolic Church, which Peter planted at Rome. See the line of our Popes coming down from the first age. They are a glorious army of many hundreds; all these eighteen hundred years have they been governing the Church from their chair on the Seven Hills." What an imposing vision does this call up before the mind. Placed alongside a picture like this, combining so many elements fitted to inspire awe, Protestantism begins to look verily but a new and diminutive Church. "Can I," says the Protestant whom this gorgeous creation has dazzled, "can I be wrong in joining myself to this Church of the ages? Am I not safe in trusting my salvation where so many before me have trusted theirs?”

This is deception the second, and it is a greater deception than the first. What is this Church of the ages but a phantasmagoria, like that which a magician may summon up, or like that delusive show which the great Deceiver spread out before the eyes of the Saviour. Touch it with the finger of history, it vanishes outright. Its pastoral staves and golden mitres, its conclaves and cathedral domes, all tinted and glorified with the light of eighteen centuries, go down in darkness—are swallowed up in sudden night. That is the ancient Apostolic Church which possesses the ancient Apostolic doctrine, let its seat be where it may, at Rome, at Jerusalem, at Geneva, or at London. "And then," continues the man who is doing battle for Rome, "how bald and cold your Protestant worship! Come with me, I will show you worship that will kindle your emotions,