appears that a sum of £250,000 is annually collected in the form of Church Rates. Now, upon the very humblest supposition, if the enforced collection of the Rate were done away with to-morrow at the very least, £150,000 of this sum would still be paid by the persons who pay it at present, being hearty well-wishers to the Church. Thus, then, the country is divided into two parties—the whole constitution of the Church is annually challenged; the holes and flaws in the cuirasses of Churchmen are pointed out and discussed every year, and all for the sake of a sum which—regard being had to the interests concerned—is insignificant indeed!
Happily the question of Tithes was settled some twenty years and upwards ago—the endowments in land, which were the next great source from which the Church derived its revenues, have been placed under a satisfactory system of administration. At present, really nothing remains but to ascertain whether on the whole, for the sake of peace—and justice—it is not better to give up the questionable prerogative of wringing £100,000 per annum from reluctant hands for the support of the Church. There is not a penny of that money which is not given grudgingly, and in bitterness of spirit—ought this to be? Surely the Church is rich enough by her actual endowments, and by the devotion and liberality of her adherents—she can well dispense with such unfree-will offerings as these! What a coil is constantly made about the Maynooth Grant. Sound Churchmen tell us that it is a violation of their conscientious scruples when they are called upon, even indirectly in their quality of tax-payers, to contribute towards a fund for the education of the Roman Catholic Priesthood, but they will turn round and with their next breath attack the Dissenters for refusing to contribute towards the support of Ecclesiastical edifices, which neither they, nor the members of their families, ever enter for the purposes of worship and devotion. On the other hand, if the paltry revenue be not worth a struggle for its own sake, neither is the principle at issue of much value. The supporters of the Church Rates maintain that this is a question of whether or no we choose to make abnegation of our character as a God-fearing nation—of whether by a solemn act of the Legislature we will cut off the connection between Church and State. But how stand the facts? Was there ever in history a nation which did so consistently, so continuously, so conscientiously devote a large portion of its wealth to the purpose of Divine worship? This is true of all denominations of Christians in this country. Whether we speak of Churchmen, of Dissenters, of Roman Catholics, it matters not; on every side we have material evidence of their zeal in the matter of religious worship. Churches and chapels are built, and endowed. The old Ecclesiastical edifices of this country are maintained and repaired with little or no help from this miserable Church-rate fund. If more money was wanted to-morrow, more would be forthcoming. What, then, is the object amongst such a people of endeavouring to maintain the connection between Church and State in a forcible way, when they are ready enough to admit, and do practically carry out, the principle that every man should devote a portion of his earnings, and of his wealth, to the service of God? It is much to be apprehended that this last stand is made by zealous Churchmen rather to maintain a badge of superiority, or mark of especial distinction, than from any belief that by their obstinate and continued resistance they are at all helping to maintain the efficiency of the Church. Unless it be speedily settled, this question may still prove a serious embarrassment to Lord Derby and his supporters.
Whatever may be the interest felt in these internal matters, it is clear enough that they fade into insignificance by the side of those great events which are now passing on the Continent of Europe. These lend a colour to all domestic discussion—they affect the stability of the British Ministry—they are uppermost in the thoughts of all men. Upon the Continent of Europe we notice during Last Week the occurrence of two events of superior importance—namely, the promulgation of a Constitution by the Emperor of Austria, and the discussion upon the address at Paris, mainly with reference to the degree of protection which is to be henceforward afforded by the French Government to the temporal power of the Pope. Is the first a confession of weakness? Is it a symptom of returning strength? The promises made, and the engagements entered into by Francis Joseph seem fair enough as far as all Provinces of the Empire—save Hungary—are concerned. To the Chambers is conceded the control over the national purse. They are to determine the amount of the supplies—to apportion the manner of their collection, and to appropriate them to their several uses. If the two Chambers were only elected with a moderate degree of regard to the representative elements, this would be fair enough—for in our time, that man, or that body of men, which holds control over the purse, soon becomes the master. The Austrian Camarilla, and the Emperor himself, must have been painfully aware that the sceptre had departed from them before they agreed to sanction a measure which reverses the policy of the House of Hapsburg ever since the days when Joseph II. for a brief space endeavoured to inspire some notion of liberal government into the administration of the Empire. Old Francis—the father of Maria-Louisa—was as thorough - paced an old Tory as George III., or the late Sir Edward Knatchbull, or Colonel Sibthorpe. During the later years of his reign,—indeed it may be said from the Congress of Vienna onwards,—Prince Metternich was the real Vice-gerent of the Austrian dominions. The principles of his policy were re-actionary, and excusably so. Is there a man amongst us who could say that he would have thought and acted otherwise than the great Austrian Statesman, had he been a personal witness of the excesses of popular liberty such as were known in Paris at the conclusion of the last century—had he seen London twice in possession of a foreign foe—and every tradition of our national pride blown to the four winds? The misfortune was not that Prince Metternich was what he was, but that he lived longer than he should have done for his