Chapter I: NEED hardly express my sorrow that the publication of this letter has (4)

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.