not incompatible with the first and foremost of the rights of citizenship.

The selection by the State of a religious creed, the which it stamps with its official seal as the only authorised way of salvation-the constituting the Church, which is the visible embodiment of that creed, the very head of our national institutions—the interweaving of her rites and ministrations with every civil solemnity-the restriction of our chief seminaries of learning to the exclusive use of her members-the handing over of the whole population to the nominal spiritual guardianship of her clergy-the distribution of political office mainly to those who dwell within her pale-the liberal endowment of her ministers with the property of the countrythe elevation of them in numerous instances to the magisterial bench-the admission to the peerage and to senatorial dignity of her archbishops and bishops-the sustentation of her buildings, and the defrayment of the expenses of her worship, by a tax upon the people-the squaring of civil polity by an eye to her extravagant, and often vain-glorious, demandsand the requirement from the sovereign of an open and unchanging profession of her faith-all this, of necessity, creates a centre towards which opinion will gravitate with such force as to render private judgment, in the majority of instances, a mere fiction of the fancy. With such an apparatus perpetually in action, and meeting men, in some one or other of its influences, at every turn of life, to offer temptation or to threaten displeasure, judgment cannot be independent, nor can mind be free. Citizenship, in general, will be swayed by it out of that orbit of common sense and honesty, in which it ought to revolve unmolested. Whilst human nature remains what it is, such must be the deleterious results upon it of an Established Church. Neither in religion nor in politics will there be the inquiry needful for the formation of sound judgment, nor the moral courage to pronounce it even if it should be formed. Ages may roll away before the aggregate of citizens have become superior to the moral restraint thus imposed upon their liberty of thinking. To all intents and purposes, free judgment is

precluded them; and, like a shepherd's pipe, they give out nothing but the sounds breathed into them.

The history of Christendom is one continuous and melancholy illustration of this truth. Freedom of conscience has everywhere disappeared just in proportion as State-Churches have been powerful. Priesthoods of every denomination, when allied with the secular power, have assumed to themselves the exclusive right of thinking for the community. Opinion, of whatever sort, but especially religious opinion, backed as such by the might of civil government, invariably becomes intolerant; and, although its first aim will naturally be to stifle what is directly opposed to itself, it cannot stop there. From disallowing certain decisions of the mind, it proceeds, as if by instinct, to chain the mind itself. The armed bigotry which begins its warfare with private conviction on religious grounds, hurried on by an impetuosity which spurus every check, pursues it into the domains of politics, and even of philosophy. Hence, wherever StateChurchism is most perfect, human intellect ceases most remarkably to perform its functions. Have we not seen, and may we not even now see, whole nations thrown into a state of mental paralysis, by the touch of priestism—the life of thought extinct within them-the vigour of intellectual manhood gone-and the people who possessed every capability for greatness humbled into the slavering, gibbering, tottering dependants of haughty ecclesiastics? Look at Italy— travel thence to Spain-cross the borders to Portugal; and, if you suspect that the unhappy prostration of these kingdoms is owing rather to the prevalence of Romanism than to the intimate alliance between the Church and the State; visit Russia, and observe the workings of the Greek establishment or glance at Lutheran and Protestant Prussia. Nay! read the history of your own country. Why are we not at this moment crouching at the feet of prelacy and despotism? Because our nonconforming forefathers, filled with the spirit of Christianity, lifted up their hands to heaven, and swore that they would resist the encroachments of their spiritual tyrants, even at the expense of bonds, imprisonment,

and death. Not to Protestantism, but to Dissent must Great Britain ascribe her present patrimony of freedom! It is quite unnecessary, however, to roam in search of evidence to foreign climes, or to by-gone days. Proof, in abundance, of the position we are now maintaining, lies close at hand. It may not, indeed, be equally coarse as that which we find elsewhere; but to those who are competent to appreciate it, it is equally telling. The present aspect of society in this country, viewed, we mean, in reference to mental freedom, is most anomalous and most melancholy. Whether we turn to the senate, the press, or the people-to Churchmen or to Dissenters, we shall find thought, feeling, and principle, pervaded and debased by the deteriorating influence of an establishment. Intelligence, of which there cannot be said to be a lack, runs in deep ruts up to the very nave, and such tardy progress as it makes, more especially in the direction of religion and of politics, is purchased at the expense of incredible labour. Men of pith and likelihood in all things else-in commercial enterprise, in science, in philosophy, in philanthropic zeal-we are here, even yet, but puny dwarfs, frightened at the shadow of our own conclusions, and toying with the veriest trifles with which the human mind can be engaged. Who would have thought to see, midway between the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and in England, the land of Bibles, a keener contention about gown and surplice, about a bidding prayer before sermon, and an offertory after it, than about the grandest principles of civil and spiritual government which have ever been propounded to public notice? Move along the most ordinary walks of society, and you will find, together with a strange excitement on these unspeakably babyish questions, a still stranger insensibility to, or horror of, those broader views of what society wants, which appeal for decision "to the law and to the testimony." Everywhere, public opinion is gnarled, and knotted, and twisted into uncouthness, by the warping influence of an Established Church. Misses not yet out of their teens, and hoary-headed philosophers, feed without repugnance upon the same thin pottage of cant; and newspapers, whose

towering talent eclipses all rivalry, and compels the world to admire even when most they hate, drivel like the commonest scribbler on all topics which touch the privileges of our ecclesiastical corporation. "Talk with any half-dozen men, no matter what their creed, and you will observe at least five out of the six to be in similar bondage. On all other topics they are ready to assign some intelligible, if not sufficient, reason for their opinions; on the question of an Establishment, they do not inquire for one. "A Christian country must have a national church.' This they take to be self-evident. What follows? Why, that every principle that would clearly go to the overthrow of priestcraft must, ipso facto, be little better than madness; and that every species of injustice required for its maintenance must be not only tolerated, but zealously upheld. Under the influence of this tyrannous system you will see men, holding the most liberal political opinions, and displaying in all other relations the most kindly dispositions, go to parochial meetings, and mouth the maxims of the purest despotism, and deliberately vote to give effect to intolerable cruelty. An Established Church is built upon the ruins of mental freedom; and the public opinion that suffers and sanctions it, has locked itself up within the doors of prejudice, and put the key in its pocket. Within that little space the understanding may exercise itself; but abroad into the wide world it cannot go. A nation thus governed is a self-guarded prisoner. It may talk of liberty, but practically it is a slave."

To contend, in opposition to the force of the preceding train of remark, that the right of private judgment is not interfered with, inasmuch as, notwithstanding the existence of an Established Church, every man is at liberty to form his own opinion, and may, if he will, rise superior to temptation, is to put forward a transparent fallacy. A right of public way through a nobleman's park may exist; but if he, purposely to prevent its being traversed by the neighbours, puts a running bull into it, what, to most of them, will that right be worth? That a State-Church actually guides and

controls the judginent of citizens, and that it does so, not by addressing the reason, and by the use of argument, but by appealing to worldly passions-hope, shame, and fear-is a fact which few will dispute. Who gives it the power of making such appeals? Who lends it influence to take men's understandings captive? Who gives weight to its threatenings, or value to its promises? We answer-the State. Separate the Church from the State, and let it stand or fall by its own merits, and instantly the judgment of British citizens would be relieved from an incubus, under the weight of which it can do nothing independent, but moan forth, now and then, a feeble complaint. The first and most essential right of citizenship is benumbed by the Establishment; and it matters nothing to the argument whether the effect be produced by mesmeric passes, or by a heavy blow. We object to the result in either case.

The second right belonging to citizens, which the existence of a State-Church necessarily violates, is that of the freest promulgation of opinion.

The end of civil government, as we have said, is peace, in order to truth; and citizenship has a right to demand a guarantee for its freedom to promote both. But both involve the necessity of allowing an unreserved expression of opinion, and that especially on subjects connected with man's highest welfare. The maintenance of this right intact is almost essential to internal national peace. Thought and feeling, forcibly suppressed, become heated into an uncontrollable passion. The government which forbids vent to the public mind walks over a rumbling volcano, and society, unable to endure for any lengthened period the smothering of its conviction, quivers with all the premonitory symptoms of convulsion, and, finding no relief, breaks out into insurrectionary violence. Every subject of the realm is interested in guarding this right with vigilant jealousy, for the subversion of it is almost invariably followed, at least in enlightened states, by sudden revolution. It is not only social peace which demands for the citizen the freest exercise of this