The history of this protracted strife is full of interest to the student of Jewish history, because it illustrates in the most forcible manner the difference of opinion in men’s minds respecting the Jews, which has existed from the earliest ages of the Church—which, indeed, still exists, notwithstanding the great change in their condition which this present century has brought about. Many sincere Christians still think that the nation, in admitting Jews to the legislature, has been guilty of a breach of its duty in the sight of God. There is, first of all, the belief that the Jews are a people lying under the curse of God, and that to show any favour to them is to rebel against this decree. We have seen what revolting barbarities this idea led to during the Dark and Middle Ages. Its nineteenth-century form—of standing aloof, and withholding civil rights from them—is less shocking in its results, but equally false in principle. God has doubtless His own purposes towards them, and they are a standing miracle, an enduring evidence of the truth of His prophetic word. But He has not commanded us to be the instruments of what we may suppose to be His pleasure, and can do His work without our help. Every faithful follower of St. Paul will regard the Jews in the same light in which he regards them.[216] Every sincere believer in the Lord will echo the same prayer[217] that He offered for them. Again, there are those who, though they would repudiate the notion above suggested, still think, with Archbishop Sumner, that the admission of the Jew to the legislature is a repudiation of our national Christianity; or, with Bishop Philpotts, that it is a breach of the sovereign’s coronation oath. If this were so, no faithful believer, no loyal citizen could uphold the measure. But let us consider what this ‘admission to the legislature’ really amounts to. A Jew who enters Parliament cannot, in consequence of his entry, himself make or alter laws. He has only one voice out of a thousand in any legislative enactment. It will be said that he ought not to have any voice at all. But if so, he must not have the elective suffrage; or he may help to return a member who represents his opinions. Nay, even if he has not the suffrage, he may, by the use of his money, his station, his personal character, his tongue as a public speaker, his pen as a writer, exercise a powerful influence in the settlement of public affairs, which is, in fact, legislation. The only mode of preventing him from doing this would be to do as our forefathers did in England, as Torquemada did in Spain—to forbid him to dwell in the land at all. They were at least consistent, and could be so in no other way.