Recapitulation. LVI.-At length Mr. Faber proceeds to sum up at the end of his work. But in what terms? My pen transcribes them with horror and indignation. The bishop, says he, p. 382, "calls << upon us to unite, or rather to submit, to his "church and as the consistent advocate of that 66 66 church, he vindicates idolatry, stigmatizes the reformation,* patronises the eve of St. Bartho"lomew,† lays the blame of persecution upon "the persecuted, .... and censures freedom of religious worship." There is not one of these lines which does not contain a most splendid 66 them in the first place; restore their rights which you have so long withheld. Then be generous, and make them some amends for the past. You will have a far better hold on them by kindness than by cruelty; you will bind them in the bonds of gratitude. It is of sovereign efficacy in noble hearts, born in privation, and long fed with humiliation and bitterness. * She has stigmatized herself, I had only to let her speak her own language. + Speaking of calamities which Europe would never have known but for the reformation, I said, vol. ii, p. 414: "Nor "would France have had the shame of that frightful night of "the St. Bartholomew;" and the charitable Rector of Long Newton purposely puts a misconstruction on these words, to change an expression of horror into an apology for a massacre executed under favour of darkness. falsehood. Every one of these accusations is diametrically opposite to my principles, sentiments and expressions. In truth it is a cruel thing to be thus depicted in such odious colours before a nation whom I honour, and among whom I ever received marks of esteem, protection, and bounty. Yet I shall make but one reply to the calumnies of Mr. Faber; it shall be briefly this : I beseech his readers and mine to forgive him, as I freely forgive him myself before men and before God. Conclusion. LVII.-And now, Sir, I have finished the task which I undertook at your solicitation. You are now enabled to form a judgment of my antagonist, in whom you had placed confidence. He stands before you, not, I feel assured, such as he at first appeared in your estimation, but such as he is in reality. You will now know how to appreciate his merit in theological knowledge, his veracity in quotation, his accuracy in reasoning, his love of truth, his inclination for peace, his desire of reunion, his sincerity in praising, and his fidelity in accusing. Grant him, if you will, ease and address in the use of his pen; allow him, with all my heart, the skill to mutilate a passage, to substitute his own ideas for those of his opponent, and by this honourable process to bring odium against his person, and deprive him of the estimation of the public; and in fine, the art of colouring falsehood and decorating error with the ornaments of truth. Add to these, if you will, an affectation of candour even at the moment when he himself disregards it; a habit of disguising a premeditated insult by empty compliment; assurance in his pretensions, and a tone of decision in assertions of the most palpable mendacity. This judgment will result from the answer you have now read; and I do not conceive it possible to allow him any other merit, without attributing what does not belong to him.* Nevertheless I beseech you to bear in mind that I only speak of the writer, and not of the person: it is only my province to judge of the author of the Difficulties of Romanism, and by no means of the reverend pastor of Long Newton, * I am sometimes tempted to think that he has served an apprenticeship in the school of Voltaire. to whom I am far from wishing to deny pastoral and affectionate zeal, and every amiable and social quality. But why have I not the same happiness as his parishioners, that of finding these in his book, as they may enjoy them in his discourses, and to observe that sincere and tender interest for the Mother-Church, which he, no doubt, testifies for his church at Long Newton! Perhaps in writing for his cause, he may have thought it a duty to dissemble his real sentiments on the solidity of my proofs. Can he have so far honoured the Discussion Amicale, as to consider it dangerous to his party, and therefore conclude that it was necessary to discredit the work and its author in public opinion? However this may be, I found myself compelled in my reply to defend the Catholic doctrine against his unjust attacks: and this could not be done without producing his false allegations, unfaithful quotations, false reasoning, cunning and unworthy artifices. Why did he stoop to employ them? I have been obliged, against my inclination, to exhibit them in open day. But I have discharged this painful duty without passion or animosity; rather indeed with an uniform feel ing of pity. How much has my patience been tried?-the whole task appeared to me ungrateful and revolting! I have endured it once, disgusting as it was; but I could not support it a second time. And I declare beforehand that let him write henceforth what he pleases, I shall not read a line of his production. I have taken advantage of the opportunity which he has afforded me, and have proved the errors of his creed, and the apostolicity of ours. I have insisted more plainly and forcibly upon our Eucharistic dogmas, because he represented them as the principal subject of division between us. From the conformity of our faith with that of the primitive ages, you must have concluded that the doctrine of your church is essentially opposed to that of the primitive Church, to that of the apostles, and of Jesus Christ. LVIII.-Well then, you will say, what am I to do, and all those of my communion, who value above every thing else the salvation of their souls? I will answer you candidly and with perfect conviction. Had there existed a single reason to justify the separation in the 16th century, or did there exist one to justify the actual sepa |