I. Common sense, and the nature of things.

II. Appeals of our Church to antiquity, and the teaching of the Church

universal, as well as to her own previous constitutions and canons.

III. Recognition of such previous teaching by the civil power; if not

proving the same point positively, yet at least shewing negatively that

it is not contradicted.

IV. Some confirmation of the above view from considerations of what the

Church of England would deprive herself of, (which no one has ever

supposed her to have done) if the principle were to be carried out that

her existence is to be dated from the sixteenth century only; and nothing

to belong to her rule of faith but what was then determined, and in words

set down.

I. Surely it is most certain on grounds of abstract reason and common

sense, that things will stand as they are, if they neither fall to decay

of themselves, nor are altered by any external power. No one pretends

that the dogmatic teaching of a Church will fall to decay of itself. The

other alternative, therefore, is all we have here to consider. I say

then that, of any building, what you do not destroy, remains. You find

such or such a fabric standing. It is, in your opinion, out of repair,

or deformed with unnatural or unsightly excrescences, which in process of

time have overgrown, or been engrafted upon it. Additions you may

conceive them to be to the original structure, and now, injurious or

inconvenient. You resolve that these, whether accidental or evilly

contrived, shall be removed, and you address yourself to the task.

Surely, your own principle in 1848, that what is not removed, remains, is

most sound: I know not how to consider it less than axiomatically true.

If a tower be taken down here, or a turret there, a window blocked up on

this side, or a door opened in that, still the foundations remain the

same as ever, unless you absolutely root them up. The basis of the

building, except in such case, cannot be imagined to be moved, and just

so much of the superstructure as you do not throw down, must stand as

heretofore. It may be obscured by something else; it may be much less

noticed, or noticeable, than it has been; it may be disregarded in the

public eye; one whole side of the building may be clothed in shadow, but

yet, if not destroyed, there it will remain, and remain as an integral

part of the building to sustain its uses, and to be claimed for them when

need is by the owner of the whole, and by his servants at his bidding.

And so in that “city set on a hill,” her foundations are the same for

ever; and, unless the Church of England at the reformation destroyed the

foundations;—save where she may have “plainly and openly” pulled down any

thing which had before-time been built up;—that which was laid, and that

which was built remains, and is our heritage at this very day. So great

is the absolute and essential difference between FORMATION and

REFORMATION, and such the argument in favour of your principle in 1848,

from abstract reason and the nature of things! {59a}

But further, we are not without an abundance of external proof, if I may

so call it, besides this common sense reasoning, shewing that the Church

of England at the reformation, if we gather her intentions not from

opinions of individual reformers, but from her own authoritative acts,

did not mean to adopt a wide and indiscriminate destruction of her

previous teaching, and _did_ mean to keep all that she did not mark to be

destroyed. This point was the foundation of a large part of the most

learned and able argument of Mr. Badeley before the Committee of Privy

Council, by which he asserted, and as it seems to me, proved (although

the Court appears to have taken absolutely no notice at all of this part

of his speech) the certain and positive connection of the Church of

England with the previous Church in this country, and with the Church

universal, and this, not only by the links of the same apostolical

succession, but in the maintenance of a connected doctrine. And the

general principle as to antiquity, and the sense of the Church precedent

to the reformation, which Mr. Badeley laid down expressly with a view to

the matter of the suit in which he was engaged, and in order to apply it

immediately to baptism; that same principle, be it observed, is

applicable in exactly the same way, and the same fulness to every other

article of the faith, unless any where it can be shown that the Church of

England at the reformation did “plainly, openly, and dogmatically

contradict it.” It would therefore be very much to my present purpose to

cite here nearly the whole of this part of Mr. Badeley’s speech, but as

you know it well, and can easily refer to it, I shall but extract a few

of the more important passages, where the proofs of this principle being

the rule of the English Church are given.

“I shall next appeal” Mr. Badeley says, “to antiquity in order to

shew more fully that this doctrine for which I contend,” (of course

the immediate doctrine which Mr. Badeley had in view, was baptismal

regeneration: but his argument reaches, as I have just said, to the

full purpose for which I cite it;) “has always been, and must

necessarily still be, the doctrine of the Church of England. * * * If

there can be any doubt at all about the sense and meaning of our

Church, if it can be supposed by any criticism or minute

construction, that these Articles and Formularies do leave any

question open—do omit in any degree to declare with certainty the

doctrine of the Church, resort must be had not to the writings of the

reformers, not to the opinions of any individuals, however

respectable they may have been; the only appeal can be to the early

Church, and the doctrines which that Church professed. That is

indisputably the standard to which we are referred, not only by our

Prayer Book and our Homilies, but by those who took the most

prominent part in the reformation in this country, and it is natural

that this should be so, because what was in fact the reformation, and

what its object? My friend, Mr. Turner, the other day, spoke of the

Church of England in 1552, as being then in its infancy: but

according to my understanding, it was then at least more than 1200

years old, for we have evidence of British bishops having attended

some of the earliest councils. Some are supposed to have been

present at the Council of Nicea, and it is positively stated that

three attended the Council of Arles, which was prior to that of

Nicea. The Church of England, therefore, is an ancient and an

apostolic Church, deriving its succession from the primitive Church,

and one and the same through all ages. The Reformation was no _new

formation_, not a creation of a _new_ Church, but the correction and

restoration of an old one; it professed only to repair and reform,

not to found or create—and it assumed to do this, according to the

doctrines and usages of the primitive Church. The reformers well

knew, that if they did not stand upon that ground, they had no

resting place for the soles of their feet; they were fully conscious

that if they attempted to alter the Church any otherwise than

according to its ancient model, it would crumble to pieces

altogether, and probably bury them in its ruins. All they professed,

was to strengthen it where it was decayed, and to strip off those

additions, which have encrusted or grown upon it in the lapse of

time, without the authority of the Scripture, or of primitive

tradition; but to this they declared that they adhered; they bound

themselves down by this rule, and appealed to antiquity for all they

did.” {63}

Then having quoted a passage from Bishop Jewell’s Apology, appealing to

antiquity as our Church’s guide, and shewing (to use Mr. Badeley’s words)

“that the intention of our reformers in departing from the Church of

Rome, was not at all to depart from the doctrine of the Catholic Church,”

he goes on to cite confirmatory authority to the same point in even more

weighty documents.

“In the preface to the Prayer-book, as well as in the Articles, we

have frequent references to the Fathers and the Primitive Church. We

have the same in the Homilies; in almost every page they teem with

quotations from the Fathers, and support themselves upon the ancient

doctrine and the Catholic tradition; and therefore, in inquiring into

what was the doctrine of the early Church upon the question now in

issue, we are following precisely that course of inquiry, and

appealing to that tribunal, which was marked out for us by the

reformers themselves. They referred to the primitive doctrine as an

indication of their meaning; and of course, if they had departed from

that, they would have departed from the Church itself, because the

Church, and the faith of the Church, can be but one.”

* * * * *

“I can show, that at the time of the Reformation there certainly was

no intention to depart; and was no real departure in any respect from

the doctrine of the early Church, on this or any other matter,

certainly not on the Sacrament of Baptism, or upon the Sacraments

generally; AND WHATEVER WAS NOT ALTERED AT THE PERIOD OF THE

REFORMATION, REMAINS, AND CONTINUES TO BE THE DOCTRINE AND LAW OF THE

CHURCH TO THIS DAY.” {64}

Again, Mr. Badeley says, “we have authority for looking to antiquity in

one or two public documents which are of importance; for in the canons

which were made in the year 1571, in that very Convocation which ratified

the Thirty-nine Articles, we have this in the directions to preachers:—

“Imprimis vero videbunt, ne quid unquam doceant pro concione quod a

populo religiose teneri et credi velint, nisi quod consentaneum sit

doctrinæ veteris aut Novi Testamenti, _quodque ex illâ ipsâ

doctrinâ_, _Catholici Patres et veteres episcopi collegerint_.”—Pp.

100, 101.

There can be no doubt that what the Convocation considered to stand _not_

with this foundation, they lopped off and pulled down: what, therefore,

they left, _of what was in their time so taught_, is to be _so taught

still_; and remains as the dogmatic teaching of the Church of England.

“Again, we have,” (continues Mr. Badeley, for I know not how to omit

these links in his argument, so much are they to the purpose of my

own,) “we have, in the directions given to the bishops by the lords

of the council in the year 1582, with a view to their disputations

with the Jesuits and seminary priests, a similar rule laid down. ‘If

the latter shall show any ground of Scripture’ (says this order in

council), ‘and wrest it to their sense, you shall call for the

interpretation of the old doctors, such as were before Gregory I.,

for that in his time began the first claim of the supremacy, &c.’ So

that in these we have public directions by authority as to the rule

to which parties are to conform,—there is that of Convocation with

reference to the clergy in their preaching, and there is this of the

council with reference to public controversies and disputations; and

therefore there is plenty of authority, as I conceive, for appealing

to the early Church, for the Church and State both send us to the

same source. No doubt it was the case in all the disputations which

were held about the period of the Reformation, to appeal to primitive

doctrine and tradition. In one of the statutes of Elizabeth (stat. 1

Eliz. c. 1), there is a direction as to what is to be regarded as

heresy, and that is to be judged by the authority of the first four

general councils, or any of them, and any other general councils

which declare it heresy in the words of Scripture. {66a} We come,

therefore,” (thus Mr. Badeley concludes this part of his argument)

“under such sanction to the ancient Church, and to primitive and

Catholic tradition, and I think we shall see beyond question that

these prove the doctrine of baptism, &c.” {66b}

What Mr. Badeley cites for the special purpose of his particular case, I

conceive holds good, and may be asserted precisely in the same way for

the whole range of doctrine which our Church maintains; and with this

persuasion it is that I have so largely cited passages from his most

lucid speech. This part of his argument, though of course limited in its

application by him to the special circumstances in which he stood, and

the case then before the Privy Council, is evidently not _exclusive_; and

I think proves thus much at least satisfactorily; that the Church of

England at the reformation never intended for a moment to shut out

previous _doctrine_, (though she might not actually mention and repeat

it,) any more than she could have intended to shut out previous

_history_. Whatever may have been said _of_ her, or _for_ her, since,

the idea that she was then a new Church; making a beginning for herself,

creating herself, as it were, and her doctrine; not being joined to the

whole early Church, and not acknowledging her own previous existence, was

evidently not only never in her mind, but the exact contradictory was so

entirely an essential part of her life and being, that it is everywhere

felt and assumed, and the only wonder is, it is as much stated as it is.

I have just said that Mr. Badeley advances these proofs of the character

of our Church as to dogmatic teaching for one particular purpose, and in

order to support one specific doctrine—baptismal regeneration. To that

subject he confines himself in the application of what he had said, and,

of course, most properly; because such only was the subject-matter in the

appeal on which he was pleading; such the doctrine which, on behalf of

his client, the Bishop of Exeter, he was bound to clear. But what I

venture to say generally, from all these considerations and proofs as

advanced by Mr. Badeley, is this,—that his mode of meeting the attack on

the Catholic doctrine of baptism is precisely the just mode, and the

right mode for us to meet _any_ assault upon the faith of the Church of

England; because those considerations of the nature of her rule of faith,

and those proofs of her appeal to antiquity, and to the unrepealed dogmas

of preceding ages, connecting herself with them, and showing her mind to

retain the same teaching, are general, and apply not merely to baptism,

or to any one doctrine, but to all our doctrines. And this defence, as

it appears to me, is not only legitimate but sufficient: at any rate

sufficient until specific exceptions are made and particular defects

named, and proofs given, (if they may be,) of a contradictory teaching,

by reference to the later authoritative expression of our Church’s mind;

a position however which, as I shall presently show, you do not yourself

assert. One thing further I would here observe before I proceed; that

this line of argument and mode of defence of the Catholic doctrine of

baptism not having been successful in this particular instance, and with

this particular court, (although a reason to stir up all our energies to

show the Church _does_ not and _never will_ acquiesce in the decision of

that court,) affords no ground to any man to affirm that it has been

authoritatively condemned as an unsound defence, nay, shows not at all

that it might not even be admitted, and succeed in another case. The

court cannot be said to condemn all the arguments on the losing side,

however it may disregard them. The court is not sitting to try the

arguments of counsel, but the general merits of the case; and no one, I

suppose, would say that all the arguments of every lawyer who may not

gain his cause are judicially pronounced worthless or unsound. What may

be justly said of them appears to be no more than that they are not

accepted as of weight by that court, or, at the most, that there is an

implication of some censure or contempt upon them; but certainly there is

nothing to prevent individuals still believing in their soundness;

nothing to prevent their being advanced again as occasion may again

arise; nothing to prevent them at another time, before even the same,

and, much more, before another tribunal, being weighed, being allowed,

and being successful. {69}

Under such sanction then it is that we claim the Catholic teaching of the

universal Church, and the teaching of the Church of England prior to the

reformation as _our_ dogmatic teaching still, in all points save where it

may be shewn (if it may) to be since plainly and expressly contradicted

or repealed. And let us observe, more particularly, to what this

principle will reach. Mr. Badeley’s beautifully connected statement has

given as many grounds to think we know the _Church’s_ mind upon the

matter: it has also touched upon the injunction of the _State_ looking in

the same direction: (to this point, however, I shall have occasion to

return). But I say at once, observe to how much doctrine this principle

will take us; how much, at the very outset, it will claim and secure for

us. Surely, _every matter of faith embraced in the first four general

councils is retained_; for no one I presume will dare to say that the

Church of England at the Reformation repealed, or intended to repeal, any

single article, canon, or doctrine of those four councils. “Yea, even as

it were a thing unreasonable,” says Hooker, “if in civil affairs the king

(albeit the whole universal body did join with him) should do any thing

by their absolute supreme power for the ordering of their state at home,

in prejudice of any of those ancient laws of nations which are of force

throughout the world, because the necessary commerce of kingdoms

dependeth on them; so in principal matters belonging to Christian

religion, a thing very scandalous and offensive it must needs be thought,

if either kings or laws should dispose of the affairs of God, without any

respect hath to that which of old time had been reverently thought of

throughout the world, and wherein there is no law of God which forceth us

to swerve from the way wherein so many and so holy ages have gone.

Wherefore, not without good consideration, the very law itself hath

provided,” he continues, quoting the section of the same act of

parliament (1 Eliz. c. 1, § 36,) already referred to by Mr. Badeley,

“‘that judges ecclesiastical appointed under the king’s commission shall

not adjudge for heresy any thing but that which heretofore hath been so

adjudged by the authority of the canonical Scriptures, or by the first

four general councils, or by some other general council wherein the same

hath been declared heresy by the express words of the said canonical

Scriptures, or as hereafter shall be termed heresy by the high court of

parliament of this realm, with the assent of the clergy in the

convocation.’ By which words of the law,” Hooker adds as his comment,

“who doth not plainly see how that in one branch of proceeding by virtue

of the king’s supreme authority, the credit which _these four general

councils_ have throughout all churches evermore had, was judged by the

makers of the foresaid act a just cause wherefore they should be

mentioned in that case as a requisite part of the rule wherewith dominion

was to be limited.” {71}

The admission, then, of the decrees of these four general councils, which

I see not how any man can dispute to be admitted and received by the

reformed Church of England, will surely give us a certain large,

definite, important body of theology _from_ and _by_ which to teach our

people; not perhaps all that we may want, explicitly set forth, however

implicitly contained, because it was of course not until “emergent

heresies” pressed upon the Church that she saw, or could see, in what

direction her declaratory acts required to be put forth. But certainly

in the adoption of these councils and their decrees, the Church of

England both indicates her love and reverence for antiquity; and clears

herself from all suspicion of attempting to begin “a new thing” at the

reformation; as well as establishes a wide and satisfactory basis, on

which to rest her further teaching. Can you yourself deny that so far we

build upon a good and sure foundation? Or will you say that, after all

this is _but_ a semblance? that whatever the ecclesiastical appearance or

tendency of these matters may have been, the erastian current swept them

practically away? Will you say? “Even if I grant you the first four

general councils, yet this is _all_; and this is insufficient; at the

reformation, whatever her own wish, the Church was so grievously

oppressed by the civil power (as she is now) that all the further links

connecting her with the doctrine held previously to 1540 were snapped

asunder: the enormous jurisdiction claimed by, and conceded to, and used

by, King Henry VIII. swept away that Catholicity which you are bent to

shew, and which the Church herself might have been glad to keep.” Will

you say? “Whatever may be the vague expressions of some at that time or

afterwards appealing to antiquity, yet look at the acts of Parliament of

that date, and you will see all this is a delusion, and no real adherence

to the prior doctrine is sustainable.” Even this charge I am not afraid

to meet. I promised to return in order to consider a little more fully

the secular recognition, at the least, non-condemnation of the principle,

that whatever previous teaching is “not plainly, openly, and dogmatically

contradicted” at the reformation or since, remains to us; and I will

endeavour to fulfil my pledge. I think I shall be able to show, that

whatever claims of an erastian nature might be made or might be conceded

in the sixteenth century (I am not arguing how great they were), yet they

did not reach to the point, and were not used to the end, you now

suppose, but in God’s good providence over us, left your own principle of

1848 still untouched. By whatever constraint or chance it may seem to

man’s eye to have occurred,—with whatever view, or by whatever mind

devised, there is something where we should least have expected to find

it, in the famous statute called “The Submission of the Clergy,” so much

and often lately brought under notice (25 Henry VIII. c. 19), which, if

it do not expressly prove the point in hand in favour of the Catholicity

of the English Church, yet at any rate, to my mind, much supports it;

and, at the very least, shows that the law of that day leaves the matter

as it found it; and therefore does not militate against the position of

our Church as it stands and is maintained in Mr. Badeley’s statement, nor

exclude any of the general arguments from abstract reasoning on the

point. “Hast thou appealed unto Cæsar? unto Cæsar shalt thou go.”

I turn to the _Submissio Cleri_—the statute 25 Hen. VIII. c. 19. The

first section recites that several canons have been made in time past

prejudicial to the king’s prerogative as well as to the laws and statutes

of the realm; and thereupon refers to the petition of the clergy that the

king’s highness with two-and-thirty commissioners may examine, confirm,

or abolish such canons, ordinances, and constitutions. It provides also

that henceforth the clergy shall not enact or promulge any constitutions

or ordinances without the king’s assent; and that convocations “alway

shall be assembled by authority of the king’s writ.” The second section

empowers the king to name the two-and-thirty commissioners, and makes

provision for the supply of the said number in case of the death of any

of them. It also further prescribes their duties. Then after sundry

enactments in the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth sections as to the

courts and modes of appeal, and “the restraint of appeals” to Rome, the

seventh section contains a proviso, thus stated, and commented upon by

Lord Coke, in his fourth Institute: “But by the said act of 25 Henry

VIII. their jurisdiction and power” (i.e. the clergy’s in convocation)

“is much limited and straitened concerning the making new canons; for

they must have both licence to make them, and after they be made, the

royal assent to allow them, before they be put in execution. But in the

end of that act there is an express proviso that such canons as were made

before that act, which be not contrariant nor repugnant to the king’s

prerogative, the laws statutes or customes of the realm, should be still

used and executed as they were before the making of that act.” {75} This

is Lord Coke’s comment, and it is much to be noted that he should stop

where he does in citing the words of the proviso; because, as thus given,

no one would entertain a doubt that all previous canons and ordinances,

so far from being abrogated, were by this very act specially confirmed,

except just in so far as they might be found contrariant or repugnant to

the king’s prerogative, or the laws of the realm. It is manifest, too,

that this is no oversight (lawyers will smile even at the supposition) on

the part of Lord Coke, but that such indeed is his reading of the

proviso; for he immediately applies it to a matter which he wishes to

show was not binding in law before that time, to bar it, as it were, from

_claiming_ under the powers of that very act, which evidently it could

not do, unless that proviso were understood to confirm precedent canons.

“But before that time,” he continues, “a disme” (i.e. a tenth) “granted

by the clergy at the convocation, did not binde the clergy before the

king’s royal assent.” The argument of Lord Coke in this place appears to

determine the point, that he so read the proviso, as to make it

absolutely confirmatory, even under the terms of this very act “for the

submission of the clergy and restraint of appeals,” of all “canons,

constitutions, ordinances, and synodals provincial being already made,

which be not contrariant or repugnant to the laws, statutes, and customes

of this realm, nor to the damage or hurt of the king’s prerogative

royal,” and that these should, as the proviso directs, “now still be used

and executed as they were afore the making of this act.” I repeat that

this view of the force of the said proviso, and this method of quoting

it, is certainly remarkable—remarkable because there are further words in

the latter part of the section appearing to qualify the sense, which yet

are wholly passed over by Lord Coke, not merely in his quotation, but

actually in his argument. I mean that his argument touching the previous

power of the clergy to grant a disme, implies his belief that the

_general_ previous powers of the canon law still prevailed and this,

(whether he considered the said disme to infringe the king’s prerogative

or not) shews that the remaining apparently qualifying words of the

proviso are by him advisedly set aside. Nevertheless, I will here add

them, lest, in spite of such authority for the omission, I should be, or

seem to be, acting unfairly, and not making the most of the adverse

argument. The words I allude to are these: “The previous canons,

constitutions, &c. shall now still be used and executed as they were

afore the making of this act, _till such time as they be viewed_,

_searched or otherwise ordered and determined by the said two-and-thirty

persons_, _or the more part of them_, according to the tenor, form, and

effect of this present act.” {76} It would no doubt appear from these

words, as well as from Section 2 of the act, that there was an intention

at that period of reviewing the whole body of the canon law, with a view

to the obliteration of everything in the previous enactments which might

appear to those commissioners unsound or inconvenient. This design,

however, was never carried into effect. I know not how to regard it as

other than a special mark of God’s great mercy and gracious goodness to

this branch of his Church that it was frustrated. Perhaps it is not

quite clear that the powers of these commissioners were intended directly

to touch doctrine, or to reach beyond the abolition of canons and

constitutions appearing to be contrariant to the king’s prerogative, or

repugnant to the laws and customs of the realm, though I think the terms

employed embrace a wider field, and at any rate in the temper of that

day, might very probably have been understood and used to a wider

purpose. “Great and manifold” indeed would have been the perils

attendant on so sweeping a reformation of all the previous doctrine and

discipline received by the English Church; and not without a trembling

thankfulness as well as, to my mind, a heart-felt acknowledgment of the

divine mercy, are we to think of our escape from so great a danger. To

have had only so much of the laws and usages, doctrine and discipline of

the primitive Church, or of the distinctive teaching of our own Church

previous to the passing of this act, as such a board of commissioners

might have thought good to leave us, would indeed have been to be put to

the utmost hazard as to the measure of dogmatic teaching left us at all,

and to the greatest risk of our being cut off from Catholic antiquity

altogether. Of course even then, the mere act of parliament, and its

authority to the commission could not have effected this. The Church

might, theoretically at any rate, have broken from the bondage, and

severing her connexion with the State at whatever cost, have preserved

her purity and freedom. {78a} But, considering how little likely any

such resistance appears to have been, if that commission’s work had been

carried out, we may well thank “the Lord our defence,” that in another

mode we were delivered from the danger; and that although in the reign of

King Edward VI. the two and thirty persons (at any rate one and thirty of

them) were appointed, yet they never accomplished the review in question.

“It is not necessary,” says Mr. Gladstone, “to discuss the wisdom or

propriety of this petition of the clergy,” (i.e. to have such a

commission appointed) “since the enactments passed in consequence of it

never took final effect; and however material they may be as illustrating

the spirit and tendencies of the day, they have not in any direct manner

entered into the constitution of the English Church.” {78b} “The review

of the laws ecclesiastical, indeed,” he says again in a further passage,

“has no longer any effect for us, as the scheme ultimately failed of

effect, and has now no legal or practical being.” {78c} It is not,

indeed, that the whole act is repealed. As we well know this is not the

case. It _was_ repealed by the 1 & 2 Philip and Mary, but revived by the

1 Eliz. c. 1, so that, if it bind some things upon us now which the

Church might wish otherwise, we yet have the advantage of that proviso in

its last section, establishing previous canons and constitutions of the

Church of England, (with the exception of such as may be contrariant to

the king’s prerogative, or repugnant to the laws,) _until_ a contingency

should arise, which has never been fulfilled. That it never was

fulfilled, may perhaps explain Lord Coke’s comment upon the proviso in

question as an absolute assertion of the previous canon law, and his

having apparently passed over as entire surplusage the, at first sight,

qualifying words with which it concludes. And thus we may see there is

an actual statute of the realm declaring, however unintentionally, yet

really and practically, the authority, so far as statutes can declare it,

of that very rule of the Church’s teaching previous to 1540, which you

yourself so happily, as it seems to me, explained and enforced in 1848.

Thus the very act of parliament, and the very proviso in it which

threatened to be the destruction of the Catholic character of our Church,

(i.e. if those commissioners had done the work contemplated,) become not

only a witness in its favour, but actually declaratory by law of its

connection with the Church previously existing. Henry VIII., and his act

“for the submission of the clergy,” become the one,—really “Defender of

the Faith,” and the other,—so far as the temporality can effect it,

absolutely a charter, securing the Church’s dogmatic teaching by legally

binding upon us the general body of the canons and constitutions,

ordinances and synodals provincial of the previous ages. Surely we

should be slow to say it is a straining of the eye of faith if herein it

seems to see an accomplishment of the prophet’s word, “No weapon that is

formed against Thee shall prosper, and every tongue that shall rise

against Thee in judgment, Thou shalt condemn: This is the heritage of the

servants of the Lord.”

I have spoken of the proviso in this act of parliament (25 Hen. VIII. c.

19) as confirming generally the canons precedent to its enactment. Of

course I have not forgotten that the statute itself makes two exceptions,

or rather, excepts two classes of canons and constitutions from that

confirmation. 1. Such as may be “contrariant or repugnant to the laws

and customes of the realm.” 2. Such as may be “to the damage or hurt of

the king’s prerogative royal.” It may be well to pause a few moments,

just to point out, though it is so plain it will require only to be

mentioned to be allowed, that these limitations in no wise affect the

argument as to the dogmatic teaching of the Church on doctrine. They

point evidently to the claims of the papacy, and the powers of the

supremacy. Indirectly, no doubt, the question of the supremacy may come

to _affect_ doctrine, as we plainly see at this time, but I mean that, as

to previous canons upon doctrine, properly so called, these limitations

of the act do not touch our assertion, that they remain as they were,

except they may be shown to be plainly and openly repealed. Thus the two

exceptions made have no bearing upon those great doctrinal points,

whereon you and I alike desiderate dogmatic teaching; for no man will

contend that the doctrine of the Church Catholic on baptism, on

justification, on confirmation, on the holy eucharist, or on absolution,

though carried ever so far, will in any wise clash with the king’s

prerogative, (“that only prerogative which we see to have been given

always to all godly princes in Holy Scriptures by God himself:”) nor are

we asking that any doctrine shall be received which may be, _if it be_,

repugnant to the laws and customs of the realm. All that we assert is,

that where previous canons be not so, (and we fully believe those for

which we contend do not come into collision with either law or

prerogative at all,) and where the Church has not herself directly

annulled them, there these same doctrines remain, as they have ever been

received by the Church Catholic, and by the Church of England as a branch

thereof;—as indeed she has, and had received them from primitive times

and sources;—as she had accepted, guarded, and enforced them prior to the

year 1540.

Of course in matters of law and legal construction I desire to speak with

all deference and submission. Here, less than any where, should I wish

to argue with over-confidence. I trust I shall not be doing so, if I sum

up this part of my argument by saying, that it appears to me we are

entitled to believe that the proviso in the 25 Henry VIII. c. 19 (the

condition stated in the “until,” &c. never having been fulfilled), either

actually asserts the force of the general body of previous canons and

constitutions of the Church of England; or, at any rate, and at the very

least, that it offers no bar, even secularly, to the general reasons as

stated before, from common sense and the nature of things, as well as

from the Church’s own appeals to previous teaching that those canons must

remain in force, and that, to use again Mr. Badeley’s words: “_Whatever

was not altered at the period of the Reformation_, _remains and continues

__to be the doctrine and law of the Church to this day_.” {82}

IV. I have said that there appears to be another confirmation of this

view, from the consideration of what the Church of England would deprive

herself of, if the contrary principle were to be carried out, and her

existence dated only from the sixteenth century, and if it were ruled

that nothing could belong to her faith and doctrine, but what was then

determined and in words set down. It will not be necessary to enlarge

upon this topic, but a few instances it may be well to give.

What then could we say is the teaching of our Church upon the inspiration

of Scripture, if we had no appeal to ancient law, usage, or belief? The

whole, which it was thought necessary to declare upon this matter at the

reformation, is contained in the sixth Article, and that deals not with

the inspiration of Scripture at all, a point not in dispute, but with its

sufficiency, as containing all things necessary to salvation, as opposed

to a particular view of tradition. That article also enumerates the

canonical books, and speaks of their “_authority_;” (the Church also, we

may remember, is said to have “_authority_,” in another article, but many

who assent to that would scruple perhaps to say they believe in her

inspiration); and I do not think any man can say that there is in the

article in question any declaration either that those books which are

canonical are inspired, or those which are uncanonical are uninspired;

not of course, in the least, that it was intended to throw a doubt upon

the inspiration of the Scriptures, but that the articles, and even the

formularies of the Church of England were not drawn up to declare all

points of belief, because the Church unhesitatingly threw herself upon

all previous doctrine, except where in any particular case she saw cause

to alter, correct, or repeal. Just in the same way consider many other

points. What strict belief should we have, upon the other hypothesis, as

to the existence and power of evil spirits; or the eternity of

punishment; or what rule for the observance of the Lord’s Day (save just

as any other holy-day); or what mode of ascertaining the Church’s mind

upon very many other subjects which have arisen or may arise, especially

with regard to the pantheistic tendencies and theories of modern times,

not treated of because utterly unknown and uncontemplated in the

sixteenth century, if we were tied down to the mere wording of the

reformation documents, but which are all of them capable of refutation in

the broad expanse of doctrine preserved from the beginning! It will, I

think, be plain to any one who will pursue this subject into its details,

that the connexion of our Church with the Church previous to the

reformation, is a fact necessarily to be assumed by us all, unless we

would bring the whole question of her doctrine into a manifestly false

position. To suppose this connexion to be wholly dissolved, is in truth

such an evident reductio ad absurdum, as amounts to a full proof that no

party of men, I do not say of great ability, but of an ordinary reason,

could have intended to adopt that theory. Therefore it is impossible to

believe that our reformers, in drawing up articles of religion, “to avoid

diversities of opinions, and for the establishing of consent touching

true religion,” and which treated of course of the diversities which then

prevailed; and in putting forth practical offices of devotion, could, I

say, have designed to ignore all that previous body of doctrine, which

happened not to come into direct mention in those documents. If they had

not purposed to retain the provincial ordinances of their own country,

they might be expected plainly to have said so; but even if they had done

this, they _must_ have cast themselves upon the general teaching of the

Church Universal, in a manner from which after all we should have nothing

to fear, or, they would have left the Church they were reforming in such

a bareness and nakedness of doctrine altogether, as no opponent of the

Catholic character of our Church has ever pretended to imagine or assert.

On this ground therefore, once more, I cannot but believe that the

conclusion which you held and so lucidly expressed in 1848 is tenable and

sound; and therefore that what we are still bound to teach, is the

exclusive doctrine of the Church Catholic, unless the further

explications on any matter at the reformation render it not merely

ambiguous, as far as the documents of the reformation are themselves

concerned, (this is insufficient to harm us, and nothing to the purpose,)

but positively heretical, and absolutely contrariant to “the faith once

delivered to the saints.”

You will see what I mean by saying that mere ambiguity in our reformation

documents will not harm us, is this, that we have a prior and superior

rule to appeal to, (if the preceding argument be sound,) by which such

ambiguity will be corrected. No one pretends there can be any hurtful

ambiguity or insufficiency in the connected teaching of the Church

Catholic; and therefore wheresoever we may take refuge in that to cover

any omissions or defects, if such there be, on essential doctrine in our

later rule, we shall take no damage. The only thing which would really

harm us, would be absolute contradiction of the truth, or positive

assertion that such or such essential points were intended to be left

vague and ambiguous. But this would be harmful, because in fact such

declarations would not be merely declarations of vagueness or ambiguity,

but would be heresy; would not be to assert, of two conflicting

doctrines, that the Church teaches _both_, but, in fact, to rule that she

teaches _neither_. No one however will, I think, pretend to say that the

Church of England has said any where, in so many words, that she means to

leave open such or such a doctrine, which the Church Catholic has closed.

Perhaps you will say, “Not in so many words:—but by inference she does

it; by her undecided manner where she has dealt with the topic, by the

laxity which her words too evidently permit, by the known bias and

opinions of many of those who framed them.” This, however, is just what

I have been saying amounts to nothing against the previous unrepealed

doctrine to which she is to be referred, and the consent of Catholic

antiquity, by which she is really bound. I do assert _such_ a repeal, if

it be no more, is no repeal at all. _No_ statute law can be so set

aside, and assuredly not this, the law of Christ and his Church. If,

indeed, we _had only_ what the Reformation left us; if we were

constrained to think all needful doctrine was there treated, and fully

treated of; if any document of authority of that period had declared that

no previous doctrine was admissible, unless then repeated and specially

recognized; that nothing was important as a matter of faith beyond what

the writings of that time included in their summaries, or embraced in

their definitions; if the reformation had thus pronounced itself

_aὐτάpχης_, and thus separated its Church and doctrine from primitive

antiquity and the faith of Christendom, then indeed should we see that we

were “in evil case,” to be required “to make bricks,” and yet to have “no

straw given us.” But, since there is no such document, and no plausible

evidence of even any such design, we trust we may put aside all fear that

we are in this dilemma, and still build up our doctrine upon the sure

foundation of “that which hath been from the beginning.”

Will you say? “I allow you have the old teaching upon points not

mentioned at the reformation, but on no others: where any thing is

treated of at all, it is definitely settled by whatever is set down; and

thereupon no regard must be paid to any complement of doctrine derived

from earlier teaching.” I answer, on what authority are we to receive

this arbitrary distinction? Surely not upon the shewing of any direct

evidence: if so, produce it. Not on the implied injunction or animus of

the Church at the reformation, for she is full of appeals to precedent

teaching on all points. Not on that of the state, for, as I have been

shewing, at the very least, and if it do not enjoin the direct contrary,

it enforces no such prohibition. And if the reformers of the

ecclesiastical polity of that day intended any such restriction in their

appeals to earlier times, (which I do not think they did) yet in that

case, as it appears to me, God has overruled their intention, and brought

to nought their counsel, by their having left no record to bind any man’s

conscience in the Church of England to such a denial of Catholic

theology. And _who_ shall say, if they “_intended to include_” but “_did

not include_”, the latitudinarian rule; {87} if these things be so

indeed, it was not for this very purpose they have fallen out after such

a fashion; that even after so many practical abuses as we know have crept

in among us, after so many years when the ancient landmarks have been

well nigh removed from sight, after so much deadness of heart among mere

formal religionists, and so much running after novelties among the more

earnest, enthusiastic, or self-willed, after all these things, and after

so long a period of darkness on the land, yet now when there has been

again a brightening, an awakening, “a zeal” more “according to

knowledge,” a regard to antiquity, and a longing for the religion of

apostles and apostolic men of old time, that now we might indeed _have

that_ to fall back upon which should prove our safety: might find the

landmarks were only buried, not removed: might experience indeed and in

truth that “heaviness may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the

morning,” and might in that morning’s light be able to clear the path

again which leadeth “into all truth,” and so walk onward into the “bright

shining of the perfect day.”

Here too you will perceive why I said in the early part of this letter

that it was important to state plainly _what_ it was to which I had

committed myself with respect to the animus of the reformers, and that

this matter of intention being clearly understood, would be found to have

a necessary bearing upon our present subject as we proceeded. If I had

asserted the authority of the animus of the reformers to explain the

meaning of the documents they put forth, interminable questions might be

raised as to the subjects on which there could or could not be considered

enough of ambiguity to allow the appeal to the previous Church. But, as

I have before explained, not any where intending to assert that the sense

of those documents was to be determined by the intentions or opinions of

their framers, I trust I am in no dilemma here when I cannot admit the

animus of the reformers, even if it were proved to have been to exclude

such appeals, to be a reason for their exclusion. Even if the animus of

ever so large a body of them could be absolutely shewn to have been to

conciliate all parties by leaving open questions on essential doctrines

in the formularies they put forth; if even they believed of themselves

they had attained this end, yet as they forgot (if we may use the term)

to break asunder the bond which connected the Church of England at that

date with herself in the preceding ages, and with the Church Catholic,

they left us all we want, to maintain the one faith once delivered, the

faith of Christ our Lord, and of his Church from the beginning. If this

result came by inadvertence, (as perhaps _they_ might say) but of God’s

great mercy, and the stretching forth of his arm over us, (as I should

affirm) i.e. not by the oversight of man, but by the overseeing of God,

still, any way, the rule of a Catholic theology has been retained, and

their counsel has been brought to nought, so as merely to give us, as

perhaps I may allow, from one point of view the _semblance_, but in no

wise the _reality_ of a lax rule of faith.

There is one argument indeed which, if it could be supported, might prove

the rule to be really lax. I mean if it might be maintained with truth,

that there are declarations in our articles, or doctrines in our

formularies not merely ambiguous, or less clearly defined on the Catholic

side than we might wish, but actually repugnant to the faith and

contradictory to it. Of course this would be a fatal objection to the

whole line of argument I have been using; for it would show, so far at

any rate, a repeal of the previous doctrine, and preclude our gaining

that reference to it on which I have been insisting. But I shall need

take no great time or toil to show that this is not the case. You grant

me the point yourself, not merely in your treatise on absolution, in

1848, but in the very letter to which I am now replying. Thus you

concede it in the passage already quoted, and even in the very charge you

make—“I am compelled to own that the utmost we are justified in declaring

seems to be—not that the Church of England now ‘holds and teaches, &c.;’

but—that the Church of England now _suffers and permits_ to be held and

taught; and again, as to the right interpretation of the Prayer Book, not

‘_must_ be understood,’ but ‘_may_ be understood,’ to mean all that was

meant before the year 1540.” {89} Your charge against the present state

of the Church, you will observe is _no more_ than that questions are left

open; it is not that heresy is exclusively maintained or enforced.

Again, to the same purport are the following passages: “Remember, I am in

no degree withdrawing from the full extent of the assertion, repeated

more than once, that the Church of England leaves ‘open’ so many deep and

important questions.” {90a} So, in another passage, where you speak of

the Eucharistic sacrifice—“Again I remind you that I am very far from

saying now that the Catholic doctrine is denied and repudiated . . . for

I have for many years taught (and as you know, have lately published in a

sermon) that in the blessed Eucharist the body and the blood of our Lord

are truly offered as a propitiatory sacrifice for the living and the

dead.” {90b} It is plain you do not think this denied by the English

Church; but your complaint is, that the articles and liturgy do not

peremptorily enforce it.

Again, in commenting upon the “real presence,” and the words of the

Catechism, that the body and blood are verily and indeed taken and

received by the faithful, you say, “At the risk of weary repetition, let

me once more say, that of course this place of the Catechism does not

assert that the body and blood of Christ are not verily and indeed taken

by all; and if there were in other places of our formularies anything

even approaching to a statement of the reality of the presence of our

blessed Lord in the consecrated bread and wine, independently of any

qualifications or dispositions in the soul of the receiver, we might be

able to show at once and distinctly that these passages in the liturgy

and catechism cannot justly mean what they are generally brought forward

to prove.” {91} I need not multiply quotations on this head, though I

believe I have not nearly exhausted the passages I might cite. In short,

your whole letter merely charges the heresy of “open questions” upon our

Church, not the heresy of our being forbidden on any point to teach the

catholic truth. And I say again, if this be all, we fall back at once

upon your own former principle, though now by you abandoned and forsaken.

We say, that we are not left to these the documents of the reformation

alone, and therefore, if there are in them deficiencies merely negative,

which is all your charge, we can supply the necessary teaching from those

deeper wells of truth from which, whether intentionally or otherwise, the

promoters and managers of the reformation have not debarred us. Neither

the Church nor State enactments hinder, as I contend, this appeal; and

observe, _if we_ MAY _make it_, _we_ MUST. We are not at liberty to use

it if we please, and discard it if we please, for it is “THE VOICE OF THE

CHURCH OF ENGLAND,”—a voice, as I firmly believe, which, if duly listened

for, and scrupulously obeyed, will clear up every open question which the

Church Catholic demands should be cleared up, and will answer every

charge which a shallow observation of only the later documents, of the

reformation, might bring against us. So fair and strong from these

considerations do the grounds of hope and confidence appear, that I am

tempted to paraphrase, though in a contradictory sense, one of the most

despairing pages of your letter. You argue, “It is not necessary to

pretend to know the dealings of Almighty God with men and nations so

accurately, as to attempt to lay one’s finger upon the one, two, or three

special acts which may avail to cut off any portion of the one holy

Catholic Church;” {92a} and then you further bid us think whether with us

the actual cutting off may not have been at the reformation, although a

certain life may have been found for a time even in the severed limb. I

am not concerned indeed to deny that there may have been much in the

reformation to wound the branch; but I also maintain that its connection

with the parent stem never having been severed, the life remains, and the

wound may be wholly healed. {92b} ‘As regards the Church of England in

particular, it may be that the so-called reformation contained—perhaps

unknown to the original promoters of it’—precious ‘seeds’ of good ‘to

bring in a certain though slow’ revival of all vital powers weakened by

so great a shock; ‘and that then either’ old principles were secretly

preserved, which in their after development would most surely avail to

the restoration of all essential truths, or new principles were,

unintentionally perhaps, so guarded and circumscribed that ‘the gradual

course of time,’ as they came to be applied, would show them to be

harmless. ‘Or, once more, it may be with portions of the Church Catholic

as with the vine her mysterious type. “I am the vine, ye are the

branches,” were the words of our blessed Lord, speaking of his body the

Church, of which he is himself the Head. And we may well conceive how a

branch,’ partially injured by some disease or canker, may suffer from the

pruning-knife which endeavours to eradicate it; and yet in a

period,—longer or shorter, as the case may be,—never having been severed

from the stem, but deriving from IT the fulness of its life and sap, may

wholly recover from the wound which the knife has made, and after a time

flourish again in its pristine vigour, even as in its days of early

youth, before any corruption had laid hold upon it, and bring forth fruit

again an hundredfold for its master’s use; though requiring time to heal

its wound, yet certain to be restored, if no fresh accident befall it,

because of its union with the parent tree.’

I know well, analogies and similitudes may be made on all sides, and in

support of almost anything. I know also, however useful as illustrations

to clear our meaning, and to answer objections taken in limine, yet how

little they can be relied upon as proofs: but I venture upon this

antagonistic paraphrase of your illustration, that I may ask the

question, whether perchance the view sustained by mine may not as

probably be the truth as that sustained by your’s; and that I may express

my trust we shall none of us be led astray from doing all that duty bids

us do, in the tendance of our branch of the vine, by any such similitudes

as those you have advanced, if the principle of your letter may be

supposed to have found an answer; if, upon the grounds I have endeavoured

to draw out, we may claim our union with the parent tree; in short, if

the fact of the severance of the reformed Church of England from the

Church Catholic be not made out beyond question or dispute. Until it be

so proved, _I_ at any rate feel it to be my duty stedfastly to cleave to

her; not being blind to practical shortcomings, not refusing to

acknowledge the dangers which beset her, even to the extent that she

_may_ so bend to the spirit of the world, and recognize the erastian

liberalism of this day and age, that she may, instead of rising up again,

be wofully and entirely cast down, but certainly not seeing that God hath

so cast her down as yet. I do not, and I cannot take this as proved, or

as done already, and therefore cannot accept the statements of your

letter, nor the conclusions to which they lead. For you ought to have

proved in detail, not that our Church’s articles or formularies since the

middle of the sixteenth century, taken by themselves, or interpreted by

cotemporary opinions, admit a double meaning, but that they actually

_exclude_ the sense and meaning of the Church previous to 1540; because

if they do less than this, the admission in themselves of open questions

(if it be so) is qualified and overruled by the earlier unexcluded

dogmatic teaching; and I say it boldly, in spite of the scorn and

contumely with which the liberalism of the day will greet such a

sentiment, the present Church of England must thereby be understood to

_require_ all those ancient dogmas to be enforced, as the ONE ONLY TRUE

SENSE of documents, themselves perhaps, _by_ themselves, capable of a

doubtful interpretation. Nothing less than the having “plainly, openly,

and dogmatically asserted the contrary” will annul this obligation, and

herein, as I believe, and as I have endeavoured now to show, will be

found, in God’s providence, the safeguard and shield which He has thrown

over this branch of his Church,—a safeguard and a shield, under the which

we may rest a little while, “until this tyranny be overpast,” until she

shall be able not merely to _claim_, but again to _use_, “the whole

armour of God,” and convince the world practically of her _teaching_ as

well as _holding_ “the Catholic faith whole and undefiled.” I do not, I

dare not, shrink from the thought that further proof, shall I say trial,

on this point awaits us. In God’s time and in God’s way I expect it.

Humbly and reverently I trust I may add, “Let it come.” Perhaps it may

be nearer than we think; for it is evident those who agree with me at all

in the defence I have here set up against the charge of want of dogmatic

teaching, must, in these days, as the assault upon catholic truth grows

fiercer, be even more and more distinct, earnest, and plain-spoken in its

assertion. As we claim, so will we, if it please God, more and more use

the ancient faith, whether men “will hear, or whether they will forbear.”

Not indeed as a process of tentation upon the Church, but as a simple

matter of duty, and as a safeguard to our people, lest unawares, and step

by step, they “forfeit all their creed.” But this, one way or another,

is likely to bring us to a trial, and to a very practical solution of the

questions raised, perhaps I may say somewhat speculatively, in your

letter. If the Church of England then “will not endure sound doctrine,”

let her say so. It may be we shall have immediately to distinguish

between the voice of the Church and the voice of the establishment; but

at any rate, let the Church speak out. Our perils are too great and too

pressing on the side of acquiescence in heresy, to give us any option now

as to speaking or keeping silence. Will you tell me that the bishops of

our Church neither hold nor will tolerate these ancient doctrines; that

they will soon settle this matter, “make a short work,” speak out, and

show us the true Anglican faith; and drive from the Church of England

those whose walk and whose heart are with a faith older than three

hundred years? God forbid that I should sin against them by believing

you. God forbid that I should believe any such thing, unless I live to

see it. But if it _should_ be so indeed; if the erastianism and

latitudinarianism of the day _should_ so have eaten, or _should ever_ so

eat their way into the heart of our episcopate, that such assertion of

our Church’s catholicity, such clinging to ancient doctrine, such walking

with the Church of the Apostles, and the religion derived in

uninterrupted succession from them, shall be no longer endured among us,

then let them know assuredly that they who bring this to pass,—they who

drive the matter to such a point,—they who take the aggressive against

sound doctrine, and ancient faith, will be responsible for that which

shall follow, and will excite and evoke a spirit, with the which they and

all their’s will in vain contend. They will do that which will provoke,

not dribbling secessions, here a few and there a few, but that which,

setting up the mark of Jeroboam in the land, as the symbol and banner of

the establishment, will drive from _it_ and _them_ all the true

priesthood and really Church feeling of the country. Then will there be,

either a return to the Roman communion such as “neither their fathers nor

they” have ever dreamed of, or a free Episcopacy, which shall cast aside

the establishment as an “accursed thing,” throw itself upon Christendom

for communion, and appeal to a general council of Christendom for

approval, and, shaking to the very centre the whole religion of this

country, shall gather into its own bosom, I will not say all that is good

and holy, but all that is good and holy, and has with this goodness and

this holiness any distinctive Church knowledge or Church feeling. Men

who calculate consequences, if there be such, may well ponder these

things, before they tremble “at the fear of man,” or think any way safer

than the old paths, and the ancient faith. Let no man say I threaten

wrongly, or threaten vainly. I desire not to threaten at all; but I know

what I write; and truly, “is there not a cause?” Let all, friends and

foes alike, know and well weigh on what a sea they are now embarked. Let

them be prepared for what must come, if there be anything like

faint-heartedness or cowardice among us, anything like treason to the

Catholic faith in those in high place. Let it be known well that we, who

are firmest and plainest in declaring the duty of cleaving to the Church

of England now, and so are fighting her battle against you, and those

like you, who take the easier perhaps, at any rate the shorter, road to

escape from her embarrassments, that we do not pretend _if_ the

difficulty should arise that we cannot remain members of the English

Church, and members of the Church catholic at the same time, we can

hesitate as to our duty. Neither can we unlearn all that we have learned

from the ancient fountain-heads of doctrine, and believe the catholic

faith to be a thing of yesterday, or square it by the liberal theories of

modern schools. We have drunk too deeply from the well-heads of

antiquity for this to be possible. We can no more go back and believe

the catholic truths we have imbibed to be no more than superstitious

inventions and human figments, than we could return to the system of

Ptolemy, and believe this earth to be the centre round which the sun and

the stars revolve. These things we cannot do; but certainly we can, in

mind and theory, and we do in fact, separate the ideas of the _Church_

and the _establishment_, and can contemplate the possible arrival of a

time and circumstance when the one must be kept to at the expense of the

total abnegation of the other. And here foreseeing, we also count the

cost. We compute whether we be able, “with ten thousand, to meet him

that cometh against us with twenty thousand,” and in His name, and with

His presence, who has promised to be “with His Church always,” we are not

fearful, and shall not be careful if we must let the establishment go.

We sit down to “build our tower,” not without considering whether we have

“sufficient to finish;” and again, in the riches of His grace, we deem we

have. We would make it “after the pattern which has been showed us,” and

know then full well it will be a building which shall be able to shelter,

and an ark which shall be able to save, all that are committed to us, all

who will take refuge in it. To attain this, we are ready to sacrifice

all but truth, to fight against all but GOD!

But I say once more, our perils are too great at the present time to

allow of silence in the Church, to admit of any compromise or

uncertainty, when inquisition is made as to what we hold, or teach our

people. Let the Church of England speak, and speak unequivocally, and we

shall know what to think. Let her courts, duly constituted, and

especially her synods if they may meet, pronounce what she will bear, and

what she will not bear; what she will recognize as her own with a

mother’s love; what she will repudiate and put from her with a

step-mother’s aversion. Then shall we know our duties, and see our way.

Then perchance will it be found the State has reckoned unwarily, and

counted upon too much. Then, if it try to bind _her_ with the chains of

the spirit of the day, may it be seen of all men that they are but as

“green withs,” or “as threads of tow touched by the fire,” to bind the

mighty. Even should the State prevail in mere numbers, who shall say but

there shall be found some high in authority, and endowed with the powers

of the Apostolate, who will stand “valiantly for the truth,” and “be of

good courage, and behave themselves valiantly for their people, and for

the cities of their God,” and use their powers, and the authority

received from Christ, to shake, as I have said, the establishment to its

fall, if there be any effort, by means of it, to take from us “one jot or

tittle” of the faith? If _they_ do this, even but six, or three, or two,

or one among them, with the Creeds and Christendom to back them, surely

_we_ shall know what to do also. If they do not, we shall again know

both what to think and what to do! Surely then God will “make a way

under us for to go,” and at his word alone, we shall go forth; not

certainly, as _I_ should go forth now, were I to follow your steps, and

remove from the place where He has cast my lot, with no light upon my

path, no assurance, no conviction, no belief that I was proceeding under

his guidance, or doing that which is according to his will. Rather, I

cannot but adopt, and with it I will conclude this part of my present

subject, the noble profession of thankful confidence made by yourself at

the close of your treatise on absolution, where, acknowledging the

singular preservation to us of a very minute particular, (involving, as

you considered, important doctrine,) even a single letter in one of our

rubrics, you thus expressed yourself:—

“The more I consider this circumstance, with the more heartfelt

thankfulness and confidence do I look upon it as a token among many

hardly to be unseen of the care and guiding with which the Almighty

Head of the Universal Church ceaselessly has guarded, to his own wise

ends and purposes, this our Church of England. These considerations,

and such as these, bring their especial comfort. Some men, perhaps,

may be indifferent about them. For myself, at one time in one thing,

and at another in another, light and trivial as alone or singly they

may or might have been together in their accumulation they supply—not

arguments merely, for that in comparison would be a poor result,

but—patience, in days of dispute and difficulty, in days of trial and

obloquy and reproach; motives, again, to exertion and untiring labour

in our Church’s cause; constant confirmation of the sacred truths

which I believe she holds; and above all, with God’s most gracious

help, an undoubting determination to endeavour by all means, and in

every possible way, under her own holy shadow and protection, still

and for ever to defend her against avowed enemies from without, and

against mistaken friends within.” {101}

Although these remarks have extended far beyond the length which I

contemplated when I began them, I am unwilling to bring my letter to a

close without adverting to one or two points further, connected with the

whole subject of which I have been treating, and the prospects which are

before us. I have said, “I think we have the _time_, and I trust we have

the _means_, effectually, though it may be gradually, to vindicate our

Church.” {102} You may ask, perhaps, “What are these means?” You may

say, “Deeply as many may feel the present crisis; earnest as they are to

disclaim the decision of the Judicial Committee, that Mr. Gorham is fit

to hold a benefice with cure of souls in the Church of England;

determined as they may be to leave nothing undone which may be done to

shake off the grasp of state interference with her spiritual rights and

jurisdiction; yet what _can_ they do more than uselessly agitate, or

hopelessly complain? I know well,” you may say, “you are looking to the

revival of the Church’s synodical functions; to the restoration of her

convocation, to set all these matters right; to clear her doctrine, and

consolidate her freedom. But these things are too uncertain and too

distant to be accounted of. If you have nothing nearer and more direct

than these, or such hopes as these for remedies, I can but reckon them

‘as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.’ You will sooner be committed

to the denial of the whole faith, than regain from the ingrained

superstitious erastianism of this day and this people, the slightest

approach to ‘the churchmen’ being permitted in their convocation to ‘do

the work which is proper unto them.’” Now, I do not think this, yet I

will not argue it:—but will rather come to something nearer and more

direct as, at any rate, the beginning of a remedy. This, then I say, is

nearer:—direct to clear ourselves individually from blame, and, it may

be, competent in time to work for us an efficient cure either with or

without the consent of the State, as God in his providence shall order.

This I say:—to break communion with the Archbishop, and with those who

uphold him in upholding the judgment of the Privy Council. This is a

course open to us all; and is a direct course towards one part, at any

rate, of our objects—the freeing ourselves from blame. Perilous,

however, as our position is, I do not say the time has come for this to

be done as yet; much less that _I_ am competent to decide when such time

shall have arrived. But I mention the thought, that you may perceive

men’s minds are not without the suggestion of something immediate,

practical, and real. However fearful the thought of such a course;

however loth we may be to contemplate it; however startling it may sound

in many ears to hear a priest in the Church of England speak such words,

as of cutting himself off from communion with the primate of his Church;

yet it is so far more fearful to think of that Church coming to deny an

article of the creed, falling into such a condition that no Christian

Church in ancient times would have communicated with her; (and this, I

will plainly say, is what I think we are in danger of coming to, and

shall come to if we acquiesce in the present state of things; and) this

is so much more fearful than the alternative I have suggested, that I

feel it is only right to call attention to that alternative, as a means

by which we may escape being “partaker of other men’s sins.” _Your_

difficulty is, whether a man may lawfully remain a member of the Church

of England and trust his soul to her keeping. _Mine_ would be to justify

myself in leaving her whilst such a remedy remained in my hand unused.

Surely if we are able to separate ourselves from all responsibility in

the latitudinarian guilt, it will be sufficient for us, for the time at

any rate, and may besides result in further good. If our archbishops or

archbishop should bring things to that pass that no early Church would

have communicated with them, then, no doubt, if we cannot escape from

implication with what they have done, we shall be ourselves involved in

the desert of excommunication; but if we can do what those very Churches

would have done, we may hope this will avail to show we should not have

been cast out of the communion of Christendom. If we can so separate

ourselves from their deed, and the erastian influences which admit

heresy, that we should have been received by all early Churches as “the

orthodox,” or “the Catholics” of the English Church—then I do not think

we shall have any excuse for deserting our spiritual mother for the

blandishments of another communion, for anything that has been done as

yet. Thoughts of this method of proceeding, and musings whether the time

has not come openly to disclaim communion with all those who support the

Judgment of the Privy Council in the recent case, have been now for many

months in the minds of some. Thus I may cite the very passage quoted by

yourself, at the close of your first letter, from Mr. Keble’s first

number of “Church matters in 1850.” “If the decision be adverse, it

needs to be distinctly proved that a bishop or archbishop acting on that

decision would not involve in heresy both himself and all in communion

with him.” p. 26. Again, the same author has said: “In old time, such a

step” viz. as the archbishops have taken, “would have been met by the

Christian people withdrawing from their communion for a time.” {105a} It

is true the writer did not appear then to contemplate such a measure as

possible for us; and added some explanations at a later date on this

point, showing what were our peculiar difficulties in reference to it:

yet he added, at the same time, “I do not say that such interruption of

communion may not even now be an orthodox bishop’s duty; although, as

yet, by God’s good providence, the contingency which we have been told

would make it so has not occurred.” (I presume this means the

Archbishop’s institution of Mr. Gorham.) “I do not say that it may not

ere long be a priest’s, or even a layman’s, duty; I only say that it is

not _the_ step for priests or laymen to take just now.” {105b} Again,

let it be remembered, that as might be expected, he who has borne the

brunt of this battle, who has waged the Church’s war after the pattern of

a soldier and bishop of ancient time, was among the very first to suggest

this remedy; nay, more, to encourage and cheer us by openly saying he

should in a certain contingency, himself adopt it. Even so far back as

last March, immediately upon the delivery of the judgment, the bishop of

Exeter thus sounded the note of warning:—

“I have to protest,” he said at the close of his letter to the

Primate, “against your Grace’s doing what you will speedily be called

upon to do, either in person, or by some other exercising your

authority. I have to protest, and I do hereby solemnly protest

before the Church of England, before the holy Catholic Church, before

Him who is its Divine Head, against your giving mission to exercise

cure of souls within my diocese to a clergyman who proclaims himself

to hold the heresies which Mr. Gorham holds. I protest that any one

who gives mission to him (Mr. Gorham) till he retract, is a favourer

and supporter of those heresies. I protest, in conclusion, that I

cannot, without sin, and by God’s grace I will not, hold communion

with him, be he who he may, who shall so abuse the high commission

which he bears.” {106}

What, then, do such weighty passages press home upon us, but that the

time for such action may come? Perchance even now it is drawing very

near. One almost trembles to write it; so fearful and awful a thing it

is to contemplate openly breaking the unity of the Church of England, and

interrupting communion with its primate, if he proceed to consummate, or

permit to be consummated by his authority, (nay, without his most deep

and solemn protest on behalf of God’s truth, the Catholic faith, and his

own high office,) the institution of Mr. Gorham. If he make no

disclaimer, and throw no impediment in the way, the Rubicon indeed is

passed, and there must come the counter-action of all earnest-minded

Catholics in this “city of our God.” I, at least, am desirous to say

that I stand prepared (not indeed to act alone and upon my own mere

judgment, but if those who may best advise us sanction the proceeding, as

I verily believe in no long time they will,) to withdraw openly from

communion with the archbishop. You will ask what I mean by the term. I

do not pretend to answer for other persons’ meaning: but what _I_ mean is

at least this, that I will say openly and solemnly I would refuse him the

holy communion in my parish church, were he to come into it, and offer

himself at the altar, and equally refuse to receive it at his hands, or

with him. Nay, more, I think we have it as a weapon in our armoury, to

be used, were it well advised and sanctioned, (and certainly to be used

before one would think of giving up the Church of England as forsaken by

God,) to extend this same withdrawal from communion, from him who is “the

head and front,” even to all those, at any rate of the clergy, who refuse

thus to join in breaking off communion with him. However strange,

however painful, however solemn, however awful it may be to say such

things, I esteem it now an absolute duty not to withhold them, both that

those whose steps are faltering, whose hands are made weak, whose feet

are sliding, whose hearts are “failing them for fear, and for looking for

those things that are coming upon the earth,” may know to what resources

some among us at any rate are looking, and also (with all humility and

due reverence would I say it,) that he who has been set as the highest

ecclesiastic in our branch of the Church of Christ, may at least know to

what extremities he is driving matters by such efforts for peace, at the

expense of an article of the creed, and the faith once for all delivered.

It may be well to draw out even a little further still, some of the

thoughts suggested by the foregoing observations. It is plain that, if

it shall come to pass that we have to withdraw from communion with the

archbishop, it will immediately and at once become also our duty to

withdraw from all societies retaining him as their head. Rather, it will

be their duty to remove his Grace’s name from their committees, and

refuse to act under his presidency. If we may not hold communion with

him, we may not acknowledge him as fit to preside over, or be a manager

in, our church societies. In such societies as he now holds the post of

president by annual election, or by some standing rule, the proceeding

will be comparatively easy, because the next general meeting of the

society can elect some other in his room, or annul the rule by which he

is ex officio the president, or a member of the committee. In cases, if

there be such, where he holds such position by charter, the matter may be

more difficult and more perplexing, but I believe myself it will then be

any and every such Church society’s duty to apply for an alteration in

its charter under the new and unforeseen circumstance of the Archbishop

of Canterbury having abetted heresy. But if such societies, or any of

them, neglect or refuse to take these steps, it will immediately become

the imperative duty of individuals to withdraw their names, and (so far

as it may depend upon them,) break up their parochial or district

associations in support of such societies as refuse to recognise the

importance of keeping the faith of the Church of England pure, and thus

become partakers in the guilt of allowing it to be stained. Many will

say, no doubt, “How can you contemplate, much more counsel, so violent

and destructive a policy? What is the Church to do in missions and

promotion of Christian knowledge, if such a plan be put in execution?” I

can but answer, _if things come to that point_, _that we must break

communion with the archbishop_, in order to save our name and keep our

place in Christendom, then these consequences necessarily follow, and we

have no choice. We shall never come to such resolve but upon the

weightiest grounds:—grounds that will leave us no option as to following

them out. We shall have no right to make matters of principle into

matters of expediency or calculation of consequences. But if I did look

to such, I should come to the same conclusion: for, whether is it better

to paralyze our efforts for the present, if so it be, by the weakening

such societies, or to aid them when they, those very societies

themselves, will be actually spreading no longer truth, but error and

sinful compromise? Whether is it better for us all that we be stopped in

a career of sin, or that we run on in it, in a seeming prosperity

perhaps, but in reality spreading wherever we go, and whatever we do, the

heresy that the Church in which we live and serve, has _no doctrine_ on

baptism, and _we_ think it best to take no notice of the fact; but still

to hold willingly in the post of chief honour and authority him who has

“_concurred_” in, who justifies, who acts upon the decision which thus

assails the faith? No! indeed and in truth, if we do look to

consequences, the very confusion, perplexity and distress which may

ensue, do but bind upon us the more this line of action: they are the

very things probably to “bring us to ourselves.” If we prove that our

Church cannot do her work under the charge of heresy, surely it is well.

No doubt all this is full of dismay and sorrow; but any thing is better

than to be easy in or under heresy. And it is _by_ distress, _by_

suffering, by being made “to go through fire and water,” that we may

afterwards be “brought out into a wealthy place.” It is by being exposed

to any amount of misery and degradation that we are to be purified. If

we never feel “the mighty famine,” and even be driven “into the fields to

feed swine,” and have to “fill our bellies with the husks that the swine

do eat,” and “no man,” perchance, “give unto us,” or pity us, it may be

we shall never be brought to say, “I will arise and go to my Father;”—I

will seek again in all its purity the early faith, even though it be

through the sufferings also of those who early held it. And “_who_

knoweth but God may be gracious unto us,” to forgive us our sins,

especially the sin of lax holding, or practical denial of that early

faith on so many sides; who knoweth but He may bring us back into our

good place in his favour, that He may give us “beauty for ashes, the oil

of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of

heaviness;”—even the place of favoured children in our Father’s house,

for the isolation of a “far country;”—nay, that He may even say, “Bring

forth the best robe and put it on him, and put shoes on his feet, and a

ring on his hand; and bring hither the fatted calf and kill it, and let

us eat, and be merry, for this”—this Church of England so long, as it

were, estranged from Christendom, is again at one with her; whereof let

Christendom rejoice together!

The thoughts of such results as possible in God’s providence, if now we

stand firm, and fight for the truth, must not make us forgetful of our

present state and our present danger. I must repeat it, if these be so

evil, we must look for sorrows before we expect relief; we must be ready

to go through it; we must, like our divine Master, “set our face like a

flint;” whatever reproaches be cast upon us, we must be prepared not to

hide it “from shame and spitting.” We must not care for any loss or

confusion in this time of rebuke, if only we may preserve the faith _for_

and _in_ our Church, whole and undefiled.

So strongly do I feel these things, that I can deliberately say I could

even wish we might be laid under an interdict;—no baptisms, no marriages,

no communions, no christian burials, rites, or ordinances be performed or

celebrated among us, until we humble ourselves, and return unto our God,

rather than the Church among us fell asleep, and all our zeal and fervour

cool down, and we lose an article of the creed, and merely cry

despairingly, “what can we do?”—recognising in all this no real

difference, and believing in no real loss. Such an affliction, if there

were any to put it on us, (and it may be it would be laid upon those who

are hardened or careless, as the result of what we are now doing, if we

be still and tranquil, supposing only an œcumenical council could be held

to pass its judgment on these things, I say, such an affliction) might

purge and purify us, might separate the wheat from the chaff, might prove

_who_ were infidels, and _who_ believers in that other article of the

creed, “the one Catholic and Apostolic Church,” and might show we were

not without such “a remnant” at any rate, as might cause HIM to look upon

us with some favour who is all mercy to those whom He perceives to be

really bent, to bow no knee to Baal.

I cannot bring myself to leave these things unsaid, much as, on many

accounts, I should be glad to do so; because they serve to show what kind

of action I think we have it in our power to use, and prove of course how

light a matter it must be to withdraw from this or that voluntary

society; nay, comparatively how easy to strike off an archbishop’s name

from a committee; nay, even to withdraw from communion with him, and

those who may uphold him, when placed in the scale with such a tremendous

infliction as I have named. And although the effects of such withdrawal,

if done by but one priest here and there, may be little indeed; yet,

whatever line of action shall be deemed necessary, if it be taken by many

in different parts, separated by distance and circumstance, but one in

heart and action, this will, I think, produce so great a difficulty in

the position of affairs, that the restoration of a convocation will be

the only remedy. Whatever may be the difficulty, if it prove the Church

of England cannot do its work whilst under the curse of heresy, that is,

not until it shake it off, (for the which we trust we shall be found to

strive unto the death,) it cannot be amiss. {112}

I cannot leave this subject without adding a few words, to explain how it

is I feel compelled to say these things, and yet continue to hold

preferment in the Church of England; how “I justify my deeds unto

myself,” in contemplating and speaking of the possibility of refusing the

holy communion to her highest ecclesiastic, were he to present himself

for it, in my parish church, and yet retain any parish or parish church

at all. I have no doubt this will strike some persons as requiring, some

perhaps as not admitting, explanation. But since what I have here said

is not the result of petulant feeling or hasty resolve, but is said with

thought and deliberation, it may be better to state the grounds on which

I feel bound _both_ thus to speak _and_ to retain my living, than leave

it to be supposed I have never considered whether there is any

inconsistency in my conduct, and to each man’s own mind to guess my

motives, and supply my reasoning. Honestly, if I know my own heart at

all, can I say, I do not think still to hold my cure of souls in the

Church of England for the sake of the loaves and fishes to be obtained by

so doing. I am ready and willing, if any man can show me my duty

requires it in consequence of what I have written, to resign my living

to-morrow. But I do _not_ resign it, because I am fully persuaded there

are times when, much as we should delight to pay to those in highest

place superabundant honour and the most glad submission without scrutiny

or question of any kind, yet we are bound to institute inquiry whether we

_can_ do this, and not betray HER “who is the mother of us all;”—times

when it is a duty to “withstand to the face” those who inherit even an

Apostle’s robe;—times when we are forbidden to “flee away,” even if it

were “to be at rest.” Then we must learn to bear not only the reproach

of “envious tongues,” and the “evil report” of such as are adversaries to

the whole cause we have at heart; not only the hard thoughts of those

whose utmost charity is only able

“in see-saw strain to tell

Of acting foolishly, but meaning well;”

but even the misconstruction and condemnation of some, who do go with us

on the catholic side a certain way, but who are alarmed when anything is

proposed or done beyond the ordinary routine of a gentle resistance.

Nay, even more than bearing these things from others, we are constrained

to become, yet in no ill sense of the word, casuists ourselves, and weigh

minutely what that is which in principle we are bound to give to them

“who sit in Moses’ seat,” and where we must stop, lest we should be found

to break a higher command than theirs “by doing after their works.”

There are, no doubt, difficulties on the side of _action_, lest we be not

sufficiently observant of the “powers that be.” There are difficulties

on the side of _inaction_, lest, while we sleep, “tares may be sown”

which we shall never be able to eradicate. So we come to be obliged,

even against our will, to consider _what_ deference, _what_ authority,

_what_ guidance of affairs, must _needs_ be given to a chief ruler,

simply for his office’ sake. And the first thought which meets one is,

that undoubtedly no Archbishop in the English Church can claim to be to

us a Pope; the second, that matters are much simplified as to compliance,

if it be any fundamental of Christianity, any article of the creed, which

is brought in question. For then, history, and the uniform tradition of

the Church, alike teach us that it is not merely the _right_, but the

_duty_, not merely of the _priest_, but of the _lay people_ also, to

contend for the faith openly and uncompromisingly, by whomsoever it may

have been assailed, and under whatever circumstances. The word, too,

which is above all words, speaks not of gentle resistance, or moderate

opposition, or needful quiet, or charitable construction: but is,

“contend earnestly;”—“resist unto blood;”—“quit you like men, be

strong;”—“accept no man’s person”—fear no man’s rebuke;—regard no man’s

favour;—consult no mans feeling;—“wish him not so much as God speed,” be

he who he may, who would give away God’s honour and God’s truth. “If thy

brother, the son of thy mother, or thy son, or thy daughter, or the wife

of thy bosom, or thy friend which is as thine own soul, entice thee

secretly, saying, Let us go serve other gods, which thou hast not known,

thou, nor thy fathers:”—(let us make a new faith other than that once for

all delivered:—let us change the creeds of the Church Catholic) . . .

“thou shalt not consent unto him, nor hearken unto him; neither shall

thine eye pity him, neither shalt thou spare, neither shalt thou conceal

him.” Well, surely, have we been reminded, “It was a simple bishop who

addressed the First Patriarch of the Church with the _Anathema tibi_,

_prævaricator Liberi_, when that Pope had tolerated Arianism; they were

simple priests who appealed against the Second Patriarch of the Church,

and him too a saint, when Dionysius of Alexandria appeared to deny the

Catholic faith concerning the Son of God; it was a simple layman who

attacked the then Second Patriarch of the Church for heresy when

Nestorius broached his errors on the Incarnation; and both bishop,

priest, and layman have received eternal honour, as having been ‘valiant

for the truth upon the earth.’ In our ordination oath, to ‘be ready with

all faithful diligence to banish and drive away all erroneous and strange

doctrines, contrary to God’s word,’ I find no proviso, ‘except they shall

be supported by superiors.’” {116} Surely, then, to refuse communion to

one, however high in station, is no such great thing, where the faith is

put in peril. Alas! I fear those who talk most of peace and quiet, who

are, more than anything else, afraid lest Churchmen should do _too mush_,

forget, or it may be have never realized, that it is _no less than the

faith_ which is now endangered. And if there is one thing more than

another which now disquiets and disheartens thoughtful, earnest-minded,

far-seeing men, it is this;—to perceive that there are numbers who are

not themselves in the least heretical on baptism, who yet say that all we

need is rest; whose great anxiety is that excitement should cease, and

quiet be restored; who believe all would be well if these “unhappy

differences,” as they call them, could be forgotten; these “sad

animosities,” as they appear to them, could be laid aside, and all things

return into a peaceful current. Alas! “Peace, peace, when there is no

peace,” is the order of the day, I fear, with only too many. Oh! that I

could “lift up my voice like a trumpet,” to arouse such, before they give

up, step by step, to the encroaching liberalism of the day the very

vantage ground it covets, and be only turned at last, and _made_ to stand

at bay, when they find they can recede no further without being pushed

absolutely down the gulph; discovering this, however, only when it is too

late, because they will already have surrendered their strongholds, and

yielded up God’s armour, and then find, to their sorrow and dismay, that

even such weapons as they may still have left are profitless and vain,

the space in which they are pent up being all too strait to allow them

rightfully to wield them. Oh! that I could awaken the sleeping heart of

this English people to feel for God’s honour as for their own, or for

their country’s! and to know, if they would indeed win His battle, they

must, one and all who have Catholic hearts, throw themselves into the

very midst of the fight, and strain every nerve, and use every weapon,

now whilst there is time, as I believe, in God’s might, and by His help,

to win it. Oh! that we all knew we may not leave our cause to fight for

itself alone, (which is to desert it,) and so provoke Him our Saviour and

Defence to forsake us, and permit us to become at last as Ephesus and

Smyrna, as Pergamos and Thyatira, as Sardis, Philadelphia, and Laodicea.

I do not, then, resign my cure of souls, because I feel God has appointed

me to be one in this warfare, and I may not give away anything He has put

into my hand wherewith to bear my part in it. I do not resign my cure,

because I think I should not be doing my Lord’s work;—I should not be

fighting his Church’s battle;—I should not be using his weapons;—I should

not be feeding his flock;—I should not be avouching his truth;—I should

not be bearing, in any appreciable degree, the same testimony to it, were

I to resign my cure of souls, and then say, “I would not admit such or

such to holy communion _if I had a parish_.” No! let it be known and

felt that as a priest, in the exercise of the priestly office, I do what

I do, and promise what I promise. And although I have allowed even

herein I am but speaking prospectively of what may _become_ our duty, I

repeat that I dare not withhold my thought of what possibly is coming

upon us, both that we may all be prepared if it come, and that those who

have most power to avert any such necessity, may see how very urgent and

extreme is the crisis in which our (and their) lot is cast.

I know well how the world will take my saying, and meet my argument. It

will say this at least, if it say no worse, “Granting what you urge has a

certain force and consistency in itself, if you were merely a priest; how

is it reconcileable with being a priest in the diocese of Sarum, and

province of Canterbury? how is to say these things, compatible with the

canonical obedience which you have sworn?”

I might answer, perhaps, that I know not that I _have_ sworn anything to

the Archbishop, since I never was in his diocese, either in Chester or

Canterbury; but this answer would be possibly insufficient, even for my

own case, as there may be an implied canonical obedience through the

suffragan bishop to the metropolitan. Moreover, if it cleared other

dioceses, and the priests in them personally, it would be no general

answer, but leave a burden on the consciences of those who minister in

the diocese of Canterbury. I will therefore make a further, and, I

trust, a more complete reply. I say, that what I myself, and every

priest among us, has subscribed to, is obedience to his bishop “in things

lawful and honest.” Can this ever bind me to acquiesce in expunging an

article of the Nicene creed? in not contending to the _utmost_ against

the heresy that our Church has no dogmatic teaching on baptism at all?

You may tell me, the law will take another view of what is “lawful,” and

compel me to subscribe to it. When it does, it will be time enough for

me to think what I shall next do; and I trust I shall not be forgetful

that there is an authority higher than the law of man. {120} Therefore

this I will say even now, (indeed I have already said it,) if the time

ever come when this _Church_ and realm shall so receive doctrine that we

cannot hold the Catholic faith, and remain members of the Church of

England too, one thing at least will be clear, that we must then give up

the Church of England, and I will join with you in seeking somewhere else

a purer faith. But I do not believe as yet, whatever _this realm_ may

think, that _this Church_ hath acknowledged the Gorham theology to be her

faith; and I will say this besides, if ever it shall come to pass that it

is about to be ruled, not to be “lawful and honest” to separate from any

that openly abet or foster heresy; that our subscription to “obey in

things lawful and honest,” binds us to a bishop or an archbishop so

committing himself, so aiding and abetting the permission of heresy, then

will a new phase open upon our Church; then will that great argument of

the day be ranged on our side, “Take heed what you do, or three thousand

priests will resign their cures, and seek some other shelter!” Yes! then

indeed will it be, (I doubt it not) that some of our spiritual fathers

will make it plain to all men wherein our great “strength lieth,” and

show that we depend not upon “an arm of flesh;” that there are men of all

ranks and circumstances among us, willing to “count all things but loss,”

so they may “keep the faith,” and that in deed and in truth _the Church_

is separable from _the establishment_. In the mean time, as I have said,

I find myself, not as yet bound down to the decision of the Privy

Council, nor ensnared, by having undertaken to minister in my cure as

“this Church and realm hath received” doctrine, because, even though this

realm may have received that judgment as legal, I think the Church has

not ratified it as valid. I find no burden upon my conscience in having

subscribed to obey my ordinary “in things lawful and honest,” nor do I

perceive how I shall find it, even though I may come to think it unlawful

to hold communion with the Primate. And I find no cause to resign my

cure, though I have deemed it necessary to say these things.

There is one subject more, which I cannot make up my mind to pass over.

I have said the very struggles which we make for freedom, will, in their

making, test our Church. This itself is used as an argument by some,

against exertion; at least against exertion for the objects which most

Churchmen now advocate—the regaining for her, her free synod or

convocation. “Convocations and Synods.—Are they remedies for existing

evils?” is the title of a thoughtful pamphlet which I have seen. The

“Anglican Layman” (such is the author’s description of himself on his

title page) says, the remedies which he has heard suggested appear to him

“one and all of a dilatory and inconclusive character, in part hopeless,

in part useless, and in part of doubtful propriety.” {122} I will not

swell what I have already written by any comment on the first two of

these objections; on the last I must say something; and, to introduce it,

I will make a further extract from the pamphlet in question:—

“Suppose the convocation assembled with universal consent, or even

suppose a properly constituted synod to be convened with the

approbation of the State, or suppose the united episcopate to be

assembled without it, would the decision of any or either of these be

really _authoritative_? In what sense would it be so? Would any or

either of the parties in the Church consent to be bound by it? What

is meant by an _authoritative decision_? What do the ‘Resolutions’ I

have quoted mean by an ‘_authoritative declaration_’? What does the

Metropolitan Church Union mean by ‘_the only body possessing

authority in controversies of faith_’? What does the Bishop of

London mean by ‘_finally settling the question by a synodical

decree_’? Would you be bound by it?—Should I be bound by it?—Would

the minority of such an assembly be bound in conscience by the

majority?—Would the majority itself be bound by the decision in any

permanent sense, because they were the majority? In fact, who can

doubt that there is on both sides a determined foregone conclusion on

the point in dispute, and that no one individual on either side would

hold himself bound in conscience to abide by the decision.”

* * * * *

“But it will be said—it _is_ said, ‘although the decision, if wrong,

will not bind us, it will _bind the Church_, and if the Church should

commit itself to heresy, our course would be plain.’ Now, a great

deal of very solemn and serious language is used in speaking of the

Church of England, and of the duty, and allegiance we owe her, much

too solemn indeed, and too serious, unless we mean what we say; she

is ‘the Church of our Baptism,’ we are her ‘children,’ we call her

‘our Sion,’ ‘our beloved Church,’ ‘our holy Mother,’ we profess to be

jealous that any one should intrude upon her office as a ‘teacher of

the Truth,’ or speak in her name without her commission. All this

implies respect, deference, an admission of her right to guide us.

Now, if it be true that whatever our Mother may say, we shall one and

all turn a deaf ear to her voice, unless she speaks in accordance

with our own previous convictions, that we are reserving our

objections to her authority till we hear her judgment—that we intend

to test her authority by her judgment, is not our language of

reverence and affection somewhat unreal?

“To assemble the Church in Convocation or Synod, for such a purpose

as this, would be to place her in a most undignified position, that

of exhibiting herself for approbation. We should be treating her as

a mob would treat a popular leader; if she should speak our

language—‘hosanna,’ if not—‘crucify.’ We should have the air of

enquiring of an oracle, whereas we should only be questioning a

suspected delinquent. We should seem to ask advice, but approbation

of our own predetermined opinions would be all the answer we should

condescend to receive.

* * * *

“If the assembling of the convocation or synod would in any real

sense ‘settle the question,’ if its declaration would be really

‘authoritative,’ if the members of the Church would be religiously

bound to listen to its voice as that of the teacher of truth, or even

if it would be a step towards a decision by a higher tribunal, that

may be a reason for assembling it; but if it is to bind no one, and

its decision is only sought for as a test of its own vitality, then I

should be disposed to ask whether such a proceeding is not of very

_doubtful propriety_.

“No doubt, it might be quite right to force a subordinate court to

speak, in order to arrive at a decision by a higher tribunal, but to

force a _final_ court of appeal to speak when you have no intention

of obeying it, seems to me to be an act of the same kind as pleading

before, or sitting upon, a tribunal, against the authority of which

you intend to protest, should its decision displease you.” {124}

I have cited this somewhat lengthy passage: but it will enable me to make

my own remarks the briefer that I have thus fully stated the objection.

The answer to its whole drift seems to me to be this, that no synod or

convocation of the English Church is, or can be, a “final court.” This

writer seems to have let it escape him that, though we may have _among

ourselves_ no higher appeal, yet there is one in the world. The Church

Catholic, and especially It in council, is an authority to which all

provincial synods are subject, and to which our deepest reverence is due.

The writer in question does say indeed, _if_ a decision by convocation

would be “a step towards a decision by a higher tribunal,” it would be a

reason: for convocation being assembled; not however, I think, as

contemplating any higher tribunal than our convocation, but merely as

shewing the impropriety of its being called together at all. In the next

paragraph he explains this:—“No doubt it might be quite right to force a

subordinate court to speak, in order to arrive at a decision by a higher

tribunal; but to force a _final_ (_sic_) court of appeal to speak,”

(evidently assuming this quality to belong to the English synod or

convocation) “when you have no intention of obeying it, seems to me to be

an act of the same kind as pleading before, or sitting upon, a tribunal,

against the authority of which you intend to protest, should its decision

displease you.” Now, my view certainly is not merely that we should

protest against (though we will not contemplate) any heretical decision

by convocation; but, if it were so, should also appeal from it to the

voice of Christendom. “The only superior known to the local Church is

the authority of the Church universal.” {125a} Surely of that authority

we must not be forgetful, whatever be the difficulties at present in the

way of an appeal to it. “Is the Church of England so isolated from the

Universal, that the faith of the Church universal has no influence unto

its theology?” {125b} And yet this point seems to be forgotten by the

otherwise careful writer of the pamphlet in question. And in forgetting

this, of course he must do wrong to the position of the Church of

England, as well as, I fear, discourage those who are labouring for her

freedom. We are but a part of Christendom, but this claim to allow no

appeal from our convocation, seems to arrogate to ourselves to be either

the whole, or so capable of standing by ourselves, that we desire to be

freed from any subordination to the whole, which would be, in fact, no

less than to make ourselves “guilty of a formal schism from the universal

Church of Christ.” {126} We must not allow ourselves to forget there is

such a thing as an œcumenical council of Christendom, and whatever the

difficulties in the way of its assembling, yet to it, as I believe, all

true hearts should turn. Certainly, for myself I can say that this, as

the great remedy for all our troubles and distractions, and “not for

_ours_ only,” but for those of Christendom at large, has been constantly

present to my mind these many years. That God of his mercy, and in His

good time, would grant us a general council to ease and compose our

differences, and to restore the unity of Christendom, and, if it come,

grant us all the due mind of submission to it, has been now for no short

period a portion of my daily prayers; and I think there is no just ground

to decry the petition as either fanciful or wrong; at least we have the

warrant of some among us of great name who have not thought so. “That I

might live to see the re-union of Christendom,” says Archbishop Bramhall,

“is a thing for which I shall always bow the knees of my heart to the

Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.” * * * * “Howsoever it be, I submit

myself and my poor endeavours,” he continues, “first to the judgment of

the Catholic œcumenical essential Church, which, if some of late days

have endeavoured to hiss out of the schools, as a fancy, I cannot help

it. From the beginning it was not so.” * * * * “Likewise I submit myself

to the representative Church, that is, a free general council, or so

general as can be procured, and until then to the Church of England,

wherein I was baptized, or to a national English synod.” {127} I do not

say whether the confidence with which Bramhall trusted an English synod,

was excessive in his day, or would be excessive in ours, but assuredly he

recognises the appeal to a higher court; and this is exactly what I

affirm we must bear in mind there is, if we seem to put our own Church to

the test, by demanding that her convocation shall again be allowed to

meet. It may be supposed, indeed, that an œcumenical council is at

present hopeless, and therefore that all mention of an appeal to it is

out of place; but I do not think this, and for two reasons; in the first

place that there are certain points of doctrine which have been so

definitely ruled by general councils, that we _know_ on them there could

be no variation; and in the second, that I see no ground to despair of

another such council in God’s good time being called together. {128}

Even in the mean time the thought of such a council is neither

impertinent, nor unpractical: for I suppose no one will hold that a

national synod or convocation may determine _anything_ as to its Church’s

doctrine, and yet no man be justified in leaving her communion. Such

course however must be taken, to be taken rightly, not on the impulse of

a man’s own will, or the bent of his own mind; but only in obedience to

what Christendom _has_ definitely ruled, and in implicit submission to

what she would now say, could she meet in free and general council. Such

right of action, so guarded, I think must be allowed, for if not, it

would follow that, during the suspension of the voice of the Church

Universal, any provincial Church might commit herself to Socinianism,

nay, to Deism, or Pantheism, under the name of Christianity, and yet no

man have even his individual remedy against a body so lapsing from the

faith, until a general council could pronounce upon the matter. This is

clearly a reductio ad absurdum, and therefore we may and ought, (though

we will never contemplate our Church authorising or affirming heresy in

her synods or convocation,) yet not to be afraid to strive for their

revival, as though there were no appeal above her, and no solution if she

should fail under the trial. When too we remember what we are in danger

of sanctioning by acquiescence, and in what a position we may thus place

ourselves for the judgment of an œcumenical council upon us when it may

come, we see all the greater cause to wish for the restoration of our

synods and convocations, nay, to account it an absolute duty which, thank

God, needs no calculation of results at all, to run the risk, if risk it

be considered, of what our Church will say, and positively claim by them.

In order to clear herself, she _must_ be allowed to speak.

Further, the “Anglican Layman” admits if convocation’s meeting “would be

a step towards a decision by a higher tribunal, that may be a reason for

assembling it.” I take him at his word; I ask him especially to consider

if this be not one of the results to be expected, and, (if he shall, upon

consideration, be satisfied on the point) then I ask him further to join

in the efforts which are being made to obtain the revival of our Church’s

synodical functions.

I have said what the higher tribunal is. I have said I think we ought to

work even now with a view to its judgment. Suppose a general council

were to be held;—say then, whether the determination of these questions,

which now distract us, would not be a step towards a final resolution of

them all by its authority. For, say first, the English Synod or

Convocation boldly asserted the catholic verity on Baptism, would not

this be a great step towards our being received openly and unhesitatingly

into the bosom of Christendom, when her council shall meet, and say, as

say it must, in what light the Anglican communion is to be regarded. Or

suppose (let me be forgiven for the supposition in the way of argument,

and here necessary to it,) that the result of her counsel were an

ambiguous or heretical determination. Surely even this would not be

without its use in limiting the points in issue, and help (no small

consideration) all Catholic-minded men among us to acquiesce in any

censure which Christendom might pass upon us. This, I cannot regard as

an unimportant gain, since owing to our isolation, and I fear I must say,

our national prejudices, there might be great danger, that even the

decision of an œcumenical council upon our position and our duties, would

hardly be received as it ought to be even by all those who are striving

humbly after truth. But if then we must be condemned (I am not saying it

would be so; again and again I must repeat it; but if it were so,) it

would surely be something for the comfort and guidance of us all, that it

should be on plain and undisputed grounds; that our Church had spoken,

and spoken amiss; that she had tampered with the ancient faith, and

changed the primæval creeds. Though I do not say any of these things

will come upon us, yet I do think the position in which we stand without

convocation, and the dangers of, what would be called in human affairs, a

downward policy, are so great that they justify us in speaking out very

plainly, and in looking to help from Christendom in case of need. I do

believe never till we get to look out of ourselves to Christendom at

large, never till we remember our due place in it, never till we are

ready to accept its decrees better to define our position, and help us in

the practical restoration of our teaching to what it ought to be, shall

we be in that right mind and heart, which is waiting duly for the

Bridegroom’s call.

I am quite prepared to have these remarks called visionary and unreal;

and all dependence on, nay all reference to, the Universal Church,

unpractical and absurd. But “none of these things move me,” and I am,

though I trust, no fanatic, yet hopeful of the help of God for those who

will try to help themselves. As I have said before, I cannot think the

expectation of a general council is chimerical. I cannot believe if it

come it will be useless. I agree with you in saying, “we have no right

to expect an audible or visible interposition of Almighty God,” to direct

us in our difficulties. “We must not wait to see his handwriting on the

wall, or to hear his voice among us;” {131} but I have yet faith enough

in miracles to believe, if that be one, that God may grant us the miracle

of Christendom again in council, and make it the means to heal all our

distempers, and bind up all our wounds. Of this hope and this faith, no

man shall deprive me by the mere calculations of human policy, or by the

perverseness of an un-Catholic despair.

And now, my dear Friend, if you have followed me through these pages, as

I know with all kindness and attention you will have done, you will see,

in some measure at any rate, why I must bitterly lament and utterly

condemn the steps which you have taken. I cannot see that the Church of

England has forfeited her trust. I cannot, therefore, believe God has

forsaken her. I cannot think that He bids us leave her. I have not

indeed concealed my opinion of the dangers which beset her. Humanly

speaking, her _safety_ lies in their being known and felt by her

children; but I firmly believe there is yet a battle to be fought _in_

her, and _for_ her, which is worth all our energies and should engage all

our hearts. No man knows better than you what is to be done: no man

better how great is the stake: no man better how glorious the result, if

God grant the battle to be won. Alas! that it should be bitter now to

say it, no man has fought more nobly in the ranks of the English Church:

no man more distinctly or with less hesitating lips has enunciated her

dogmatic teaching: no man has contended more boldly on the side of God,

and the creeds, and the Catholic faith than you have done in this our

battle for life and death! Oh! that you might even now once more “cast

in your lot among us;” confess you believe you have been blinded by care

and grief, and so been at least over-hasty in your resolves; and throw

yourself once more into the ranks of the chosen warriors among us, and

into the battle with us. Believe me,—nay, rather judge it for

yourself—great things are coming on apace: things which will make men’s

course plain before their face, without their being over-forward to

decide them in isolation for themselves by the mere act of their private

judgment; and perchance if we may but be wisely guided, and have patience

to endure, we may both come out ourselves “as silver purified seven times

in the fire,” and be the means, though all unworthy, to unite Christendom

again in one. Oh! what heart can exaggerate the beauty with which our

Church shall again shine forth, if she can retain the good that is in her

and discard the evil! How nobly will then appear the characteristic

virtues of the English mind;—its love of honesty and truth;—its

conscientiousness and repudiation of pious frauds;—its loathing disbelief

in the avail of expiation of sin by mere formal observances, the sinner

remaining unrepentant all the while! If these qualities may be fostered,

and its characteristic vices;—its arrogancy and pride;—its unbounded

reliance upon itself, and the miserably ignorant as well as utterly

destructive habit and abuse of private judgment: therefore its refusal of

Catholic teaching, and practical denial of sacramental grace; if these

can be eradicated, how fairly indeed shall the Church of England shine

forth once more, as “clothed in white raiment,” as able “to save alive

the souls” committed to her, as “the ransomed” and “well-beloved” of the

Lord! “as a fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams

from Lebanon.” But for this (though we know God needeth no man’s help,

and can spare _whom_ he pleaseth, and his work not the less be done, and

his counsel stand,) yet _we_ seem to be able to spare no man from our

ranks who has ever fought upon our side. Oh! (with a breaking heart, one

is almost tempted to exclaim:) Oh! that we could but have with us now,

all those who in these last five or ten years have “lost patience” in our

camp. What with them, could they be restored to us, might we not seem

ready to attain, even against all the “principalities and powers” that

latitudinarian indifference or infidel philosophy may array against us?

But, I may not indulge in such longings. I may not ask, nor think of,

nor hope, even _your_ return. I do not ask it, for I know it is a thing

you may not grant for asking. I will not think of it, for “vain are the

thoughts of man!” I will not even hope it; for why should “the heart be

made sick,” when so much work is to be done. But I may and will _pray_

for it, if it be His gracious will, who is able to give more than we know

how either to ask or to think, “whose way is in the sea, and whose paths

in the great waters, and whose footsteps are not known.”

Believe me, my dear Maskell, yours, though in sorrow, still in affection,