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THE

CHURCH OF ENGLAND
AND
RECENT RELIGIOUS THOUGHT

THE

CHURCH OF ENGLAND

RECENT RELIGIOUS THOUGHT

CHARLES A. WHITTUCK, M.A.
RECTOR OF GREAT SHEFFORD, BERK.S
LATE FELLOW AND TUTOR OF ERASENOSE COLLEGE, OXFORD

Hoiiiion
MACMILLAN AND CO.
.\ND NEW YORK
1893
The Right of Translation, and Reproduction is Reserved

S)et>icate5 TO
CHARLES BULLER HEBERDEN, M.A.
I'RINCIPAL OF ERASENOSE COLLEGE.

PREFACE
In the following pages an attempt is made to
estimate the position of the Church of England in
relation to recent religious thought, this latter being
understood in a large sense, as including not merely
professional theology but also the opinions of men
in general on religious subjects.
The work is divided into four parts, each of which
is intended to expand the scope of the inquiry from
within outwards. Thus, in the first part, the Church's
internal state is discussed. This leads to the con
sideration (2) of the Dissenters and (3) of the Alien
ated Classes, as following next after each other in the
order of their separation from the Church of England.
Finally, (4) the catholic claims of the Church are
examined, no longer as regards persons or classes,
but as regards the intrinsic capacity for universality
of the contributions recently made to the Church's
theology. The author's main concern has throughout been
with those tendencies of religious thought which,
though by no means universal in the Church of Eng
land, are, or seem likely to become, predominant. It

viii PREFACE
is necessary that this should be borne in mind, since
otherwise the principle of selection which has been
followed as regards the subjects discussed might not
be apparent. Let it be understood then that what is
here attempted is, not to provide the reader with a
vade mecum of all the various forms which religious
thought in the Church of England has recently
assumed, but rather — starting from the hypothesis of
the Church's increased and increasing specialisation
of herself in one direction — an hypothesis which in
the first part of this work is vindicated — to show in
what the religious thought of the Church — as thus
determined — consists, and at the same time to show
how the Church's position — as thus determined — is
modified by external circumstances. The present
attempt is therefore not an exhaustive survey, but is
rather to be regarded as a work of constructive criti
cism, by which what is meant, in reference to its
subject, is that it aims at giving a consistent and
intelligible account of the underlying basis, the
governing purposes, and the reflexive movements of
the contemporary Church of England.
As regards its practical object, this book has been
written in order to exhibit the wider possibilities of
development now opening up before the Church of
England, together with the helps and hindrances to
their realisation. That in conceiving of these latter
the author should find himself alternately at issue,
and in agreement, with prevailing tendencies, arises
from his view of thc Church of England as at
once reactionary and progressive, the first, owing
to certain traditions inherited from the Oxford
Movement and since further elaborated in the same

PREFACE ix
sense ; the second, owing to the influences of the
Church and the National Life affecting each other
reciprocally. Looking then to these two opposite
characteristics (the attempt to combine which is what
really constitutes that specialisation of the Church in
one direction spoken of above) the author's judgment
follows two different impulses, according as he con
templates the one or the other of them.
It is not, however, in connection with the Church's
mutually exclusive aims that " the wider possibilities
of development," referred to in the last paragraph,
were intended to be understood. For though the
author believes that the Church's attempted combina
tion of these aims is at present more or less a failure,
he believes also that ultimately it will be a success
and the signs of progress which he discerns are in
terpreted by him as pointing in that direction. More
than this, the author's calculations are broad enough
to admit of his hopes for the Church being realised,
even should this not be by the path which he per
sonally would have preferred. Hence, his purpose
as fully developed, so far from being a controversial
one, is really directed to show that the now dominant
tendencies of English Churchmanship tnay be destined,
to whatever extent, to triumph, and yet, in the course
of working themselves out, may transcend the asso
ciations of their origin, and may acquire a truly
catholic character in exchange for their present mere
pseudo-catholicity.

CONTENTS PART I
THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND TO-DAY

CHAP. PAGE
I. — GROWTH OF A SPIRIT OF UNIFORMITY  3
II. — DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES — (l.) THE
CLERGY  20
III. — DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES — (ll. THE
CHURCH LAITY  39
IV. — RESULTS AND ANTICIPATIONS  . 5 1

PART II
CHURCH AND DISSENT
I.— THE RECENT HISTORY OF DISSENT  77
II. — ATTRACTION AND REPULSION  95
III.— THE REUNION QUESTION  I09
IV.— RURAL DISSENT . . . . . . . 132

CONTENTSPART HI
THE ALIENATED CLASSES

PAGE

I.— LIMITATION OF THE INQUIRY  '53
II,— THE PRESENT STATE OF ALIENATION . . . l6l
n I.— COUNTERACTING INFLUENCES .  I?^
IV.— THE CHURCH AND THE ALIENATED CLASSES— (l.)
THE CHURCH'S STRENGTH . . . . . . I90
v.- THE CHURCH AND THE ALIENATED CLASSES— (ll.)
THE CHURCH'S WEAKNESS  202

PART IV
THEOLOGY
I. — THE ESSENTIALS OF A CATHOLIC THEOLOGY 225
II.— THEOLOGY AND THE BIBLE . . ... . 232
III. — GOD AND NATURE  253
I\".— DOGMATIC THEOLOGY  274
v.— THE ACT OF FAITH  293

PART I
THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND TO-DAY
" Soil man . . annehmen dass veraltete Bildungsmotive
ohne positive Veranlassung und willlciirlich in eine ganz anders
angelegte Entwicklung hiiieinbrechen, sie verwirren und
verderben, wie kann man dann der pessimistischen Ansicht von
der IMenscheit sich entziehen, welche die schlesteste Disposition
zur Besserung verfahrener Zustande ist ? " — Ritsckl on Schleier-
mcicher, p. 89.

THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND

RECENT RELIGIOUS THOUGHT
CHAPTER I
GROWTH OF A SPIRIT OF UNIFORMITY
It has frequently of late been asserted that the old
party divisions of the Church of England are now
breaking down, and this amalgamation of Church par
ties is by some regarded as one of the most hopeful
signs of the times. As to this latter point opinions
may differ according as the nature of the situation
is variously estimated. But as to the existence of
the alleged fact — viewed simply as a fact — there can,
we think, be no doubt. It seems to us unques
tionable that there has been of late years in the
Church of England a drawing together of factions
previously hostile, a mitigation in the intensity and
bitterness of party strife, and, in short, a general
tendency (however it may be explained) towards peace
and goodwill.
But when we come to inquire into thc explanation
of this fact, there is, as we have hinted, great room
for differences of opinion. Thus, we might explain
B 2

t>

4 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND parti
the fact as due merely to the general progress of society
which tends to produce a spirit favourable to toler
ation not merely amongst members of the Church of
England, but more or less amongst all persons and
classes of the community. Or again, looked at less
generally, this result might be referred to a conviction
arrived at by Church parties in common of the
smallness of the differences dividing them from each
other, and to a consequent determination to forego
such differences and to fall back on the admitted
essentials of Christian belief and practice, instead of
fighting over minor points of detail. Or lastly, it
might be said that the true explanation of the fact in
question was to be found in the growing supremacy of
some one party in the Church which had by degrees
spread itself over the rest and had thus obtained
peace on a basis, not of mutual concession, but of
submission to its own terms.
Perhaps, however, we shall be in a better position
to explain this fact if we state somewhat more at
length what we mean by it. For it is not merely
to the growth of toleration, but to the existence
of a spirit of tiniforviity, in the Church of Eng
land that we wish now to draw attention. The
Church of England is in fact becoming more and
more a homogeneous whole. In some ages, the
chief feature of that Church, as of other Churches,
has been variation, disunion, want of permanence and
consistency. Such a period we seem to have passed
through during the last half-century and to be only
just now reaching its close, as shown by the tendency
above referred to. In other ages there has been in
this Church, as like-wise at times in all Churches which
have had a history-, a tendency towards sameness and
likeness amont^st thc parts which constitute it rather
than toward.s (liffcrcncc. It is this latter condition of
uniformity which wc predicate of the Church of
England in its most recent development. Let us
then, before proceeding further, endeavour, as briefly

chap. I GROWTH OF A SPIRIT OF UNIFORMITY 5
as possible, to indicate some of the more superficial
characteristics of thc state of things which has thus
arisen, leaving those which lie deeper to be inquired
into later.
We would instance, in the first place, the uniform
ity of thought and behaviour which prevails amongst
the Anglican clergy. Never before surely were such
a large body of educated men so like each other in
their general tone, whether as illustrated by their
public ministrations — their preaching and teaching —
or by their demeanour and conversation in private
life. Nor is it the clergy only who are distinguished
by this spirit of uniformity. The faithful laity, too,
are every year becoming more and more like each
other in all that part of their lives which concerns the
obligations of religion — more and more a common
stamp is being impressed upon them, and types are
arising as out of a common Church life. We have
now amongst the laity Church-workers and helpers
in every variety, both amateur and professional ;
women without stint, and in our large towns not a
few men, especially young men ; besides whom there
is the rapidly increasing class of lay readers, mis
sion sisters, and other persons engaged in similar
work, together with the staffs of heads and assistants
required in order to maintain in existence the
orphanages and other eleemosynary institutions
which are in so many places now springing up at the
Church's call. The same activity has shown itself in
the multiplication of churches and in the increased
attention paid to church music and singing. All
these phenomena bear witness to the same ten
dency, and produce on the mind the same general
impression — an impression the chief element in which
is a growing sense of the conformity of the Church
of England with a single, uniform, ecclesiastical
type. We are quite aware that there are many exceptions
to this general tendency, and that the phenomena we

5 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART I
have adduced, and others which we shall adduce in
illustration of it, still admit of being regarded rather
as the property of a party in the Church than of the
Church as a whole. None the less, however, the ten
dency wc have indicated is the most characteristic
feature of the Church of England at the present time ;
this is the point which thc Church is making for, or
towards which she is 'oeing driven. Everywhere
where the Church of England is strongest and most
influential we find evidence of this inclination ; this,
too, is the character of the most representative Church
men, whether clergy or laity. Such being the case,
it is no fair objection to urge that this state of things
is not universal in the Church of England ; we must
judge institutions, as we do persons, by reference
to their m_ost salient features, and to what is most
characteristic about them, not by a microscopic survey
of the whole sphere of their activity.
Yet it is no doubt quite true that the tendency of
which we speak originated \N\th a. party in the Church
of England, a party by whose agency it slowly spread
itself until it assumed its present proportions. In
other words, the explanation of this tendency which
we prefer is the third of those mentioned above,
which is not, however, inconsistent with the first.
According to this view, the uniformity characteristic
of the Church's present state is ascribed to " the
supremacy of a single party which has obtained peace
on a basis, not of mutual concession, but of submission
to its own terms."
This statement of the case is, however, so far
unsatisfactory as that it con\-eys the idea that the
High Church Party (for that of course is the party in
question) did not itself undergo a transformation in
the process of transforming the Church of England.
Such an idea would involve a misconception. It may
be, and, according to the view here adopted, is the fact
that that party did not make concessions to other
parties, but it does not follow that it did not absorb

chap. I GROWTFI OF A SPIRIT OF UNIFORIVIITY 7
and assimilate the characteristics of other parties and
in so doing become changed itself
Now, the origin of this tendency towards uniformity
in the Church of England may be traced back to the
Oxford Movement. The very mention of this latter
is beginning to create a certain sense of enmii owing
to the multitude of personal reminiscences, anecdotes,
discussions and controversies which are associated
with it. Nothing in fact but the great ability and
attractiveness of the writers who have handled this
subject could have obtained for them the patient
hearing on the part of the non-ecclesiastical public
which as a matter of fact has been accorded to them.
Not that the nature of the subject would not have
amply justified this . willing attention, if the chief
authorities on the Oxford Movement had not confined
themselves so exclusively to its first beginnings and
had traced it — as after this lapse of time they might
surely some of them have done — throughout its whole
course. Instead of this, what we have had has been
an immense amount of interesting information about
the originators of the movement and about its
earlier phases. The result has been the acquisition of
much valuable material for the purposes of ecclesiasti
cal history, and the exhibition, in not a few cases, of
a most finished literary style. We ought, therefore,
perhaps not to complain. At the same time, it must
be remembered that since the first dawn of the Oxford
Movement a period has elapsed of not less than
sixty years, and we must be excused if, whilst not
ignoring antecedents, we attach some importance also
to their consequences. Hence, in considering the
Oxford Movement in connection with our present
subject, we shall have nothing to say either about
Tract XC, or about the different stages of Dr. New
man's career, or about his earlier as compared with
his later associates. Nor, indeed, shall we have much
to say about the Oxford Movement under any of its
more historical aspects.

8 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part l
At the same time, we cannot get rid of the subject
altogether. For we must be on our guard against
supposing that because the Oxford Movement in its
developed form has assumed some manifestations not
contemplated by its initiators, it is therefore false to
its original principle. As Dr. Newman has himself
so well shown, the fact of many and great differences
arising is not only not inconsistent with a faithful
development, but must necessarily appear under that
very condition, though, of course, it may ALSO appear
when the true succession has been lost. If then we
believe — as we most certainly do — in the continuous
development of the Oxford Movement down to the
present time, we must have a firm grasp of the
principle underlying it throughout its whole course,
in virtue of which we speak of it as one through
out. Now, we find the cause of the Oxford Movement to
consist in the wave of reaction, both in religion and
in politics, which followed upon the French Revolution,
or rather upon the Napoleonic wars which were its
outcome. No one who is acquainted with the records
of the Oxford Movement in its first origin can fail to
see that it was part of this larger movement of re
action M'hich produced analogous, though widely
different, results both in France and Germany.^ Nor
has this movement ever since lost its original char
acter. It is only a superficial view to regard it either
in its earlier or later stages as directed primarily
against Evangelical Protestantism. It was, no doubt,
to some extent originall)' directed against this, but
only on account of what this might lead to, not on
account of what it actually was. Newman, in effect, was
1 It has always seemed to the writer that a most interesting
study and comp.uison might be made of thc effects of this
reaction in England, France, and Germany— when " the world,
as that generation dreamed, u. IS to be made young again
by an elixir distilled from the withered flowers of medisevai
Catholicism and Chi\alry."— Wallace's Logic of lUgcl. Editor's
Prolegomena, p. \\x.

CHAP. I GROWTH OF A SPIRIT OF UNIFORMITY 9
always asking theProtestantshow theyintended to hold
their own when their own principle of private judg
ment was turned against them by men who had not
inherited the same traditional beliefs. He was
looking forward to a time which has not even
yet fully come, though it is every day drawing
nearer. At a later time, however, the Oxford Movement,
as is well known, to a certain extent changed its
character. It was still inspired by hatred and fear
of the rationalistic tendencies of the age. But the
successors of the Tractarians gave up Dr. New
man's method, which may be described as consisting
in a reasoned defence of authority against reason.
They preferred a more direct appeal to the emotions.
They invented or reproduced an elaborate Church
ceremonial : they inculcated the adoption of many
beliefs and practices which were either before quite
unknown in England, or which had long since fallen
into disuse. In short, from having been first New-
manites and then Puseyites, they became Ritualists.
At the same time, while we admit this difference
between the originators of the Oxford Movement and
their successors, we think that it has been greatly
exaggerated. It was a change of form rather than of
substance. The change was necessitated not merely
because the movement had outgrown the merely
academic associations in which it first originated, but
also and even more because the strength of thc
opposing tendencies had increased. The underlying
motive was, however, the same throughout. Through
out its whole course the movement has aimed at
the suppression of Liberalism or Rationalism (terms
which indeed are used by Cardinal Newman synony
mously), and in this respect there has been no break
in the continuity of its development.
Yet these so-called Ritualists were after all only a
PARTY in the Church, nor did they show any great
tendency to unite with other Churchmen differing from

IO THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part i
themselves. Quite the contrary, indeed. Their in
fluence, so far from being of a unifying and concilia
tory character, tended distinctly towards separation
and disintegration, ancl in this latter role they
achieved considerable success and, as we must all
remember, attracted much public notice in the news
papers and Law Courts. It was not therefore from
this quarter that the tendency towards unity or
uniformity was to be expected to proceed. That ten
dency, however, more and more developed itself in
response to the felt needs of the vast populations to
whom the Church was now called to minister. This
then is the /¦/«>(/ development ofthe Oxford Movement,
the characteristics of which will occupy us throughout
the greater part of what follows.
In the present connection it need only be remarked
that this development, though based on similar
ecclesiastical principles, was yet in other respects very
different from the position both of the Tractarians
and ofthe Ritualists. These latter were parties in the
Church of England ; to a certain extent, indeed, the
Ritualists have this character still. On the other
hand, at this third stage the point had been reached
when the Oxford Movement was to aim at identi-
f)'ing itself with the Chtu'ch of England as a whole.
We are speaking now more particularly of what has
been going on in the Church of England during the
last thirty years, and it is to this period of time
that the description of the distinguishing features of
thc Church of England given above is intended chiefly
to appl}'. During this period English Churchmen
have become more and more High Churchmen, and
the attempt has been made to represent this form
of churchmanship as inclusive of all others. The
exigencies of practical organisation at this time
required that thc enthusiasm of the English Church
should take some one form, and this was the form which
it chose. It was no longer urged that other tendencies
opposed to this one were wrong ; it was rather said

chap. I GROWTH OF A SPIRIT OF UNIFORMITY ii
that Churchmen of all shades of opinion would find
here all that they demanded from their ovv^n special
point of \'iew, together with much more besides. And
this way of putting the case was wonderfully success
ful, as may be seen from the fact that it undermined
the position of the other two parties in the Church of
England, both of which had previously occupied
strong ground of their own. Let us before proceeding
further endeavour to show what this ground was, as
also how it was gradually invaded.
As regards what is called the Broad Church Party,
the best men of this school have always not only
professed dislike to the appellation of Broad Church,
but have set themselves in opposition to any and
every division ofthe Church into parties, no matter on
what basis. Still, the teaching of these men did more
or less have in view certain general aims in common,
as to which there need be no uncertainty. These
aims for our present purpose may be classed under
two heads, the one theological and doctrinal, the
other more of a social or ethico-social character.
The theological aim amounted to an attempt
sometimes to reform, sometimes to revolutionise the
traditional teaching of the Church of England on
religious subjects. Whether it was the authority of
the Bible and the way in which the Bible had been
previously understood that was called in question,
or whether it was pointed out that the articles and
formularies of the Prayer Book had become anti
quated, and that some modification therefore was
required in the terms of clerical subscription, or
whether, lastly, on more general grounds it was
represented that dogma was no necessary part of
religion, the changes advocated in these and other
like directions would, if they had taken root to the
extent desired by their propounders, have formed an
essentially new departure in the history of English
religion and theology. That they did not take root
to this extent or anything like it is, we believe, a

12 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND parti
simple matter of history. Nor is it difiicult to account
for the comparative failure of thc theologians of this
new school ; they went too far for some and not far
enough for others ; they did not say clearly what they
meant, and, as some held (though in most cases quite
wrongly), they did not always mean what'they said.
And yet they exercised far more effect on the
theological teaching of the Church of England than
now appears on the surface, and it would not be
difficult to show conspicuous traces of their influence
in quarters where we should least expect to find any.
It is owing to their efforts that the interpretation of
scripture has been undertaken by Churchmen generally
in a more liberal spirit, and that questions as to the
authorship of the books of the Bible and other like
critical questions receive full and fair consideration
at the hands of Anglican divines. It is likewise due
to them that more attention came to be paid to the
moral ancl spiritual side of religious truth, and that
men were led to think less of minute and trivial
questions of doctrine and ritual.
At the same time, neither in these nor in other
respects did the Broad Churchmen obtain more than
a very temporary advantage. The chief points on
which they insisted might indeed have been urged
with more force against the position of the Evan
gelicals than against that of the High Churchmen,
to whom thc Evangelicals had already practically
succumbed. For, as regards scripture, the High not
less than the Broad Churchmen had broken with the
old Protestant literalism and letter-worship ; and as
regards not insisting sufficiently on the ethical side
of religion, the High Churchmen of the new school
were in some respects perhaps even less open to
attack than the Broad Churchmen themselves. Church
membership being regarded by them, following the
example of mediaeval and primitive times, as pre
eminently a discipline of the moral life. Though,
therefore, it cannot be maintained that these two

chap. I GROWTH OF A SPIRIT OF UNIFORMITY 13
schools of religious thought looked at either of the
matters above referred to in the same light, yet there
was not the same opposition between them, either on
these or on other grounds, as there was between the
position of both of them in common and that of the
Evangelicals.^ A closer study than we have time now
to enter on would show that these Broad Churchmen
were themselves largely influenced by the Oxford
Movement, though they were not well disposed
towards its main tendency.
But what really brought these two parties into
conflict was the depreciation by the Broad Church of
the importance of dogma. It then became easy for
the High Churchmen to argue that this position, if
logically maintained, must ultimately lead to the
surrender of all that was distinctive in the Christian
faith. Now, here surely was a grand opportunity for
the liberal Churchmen to explain and defend them
selves ; here was the occasion which a great con
structive theologian, if there had been one in the
liberal ranks, would have made his own. We see
how much this was so from the extent ofthe influence
actually exercised at the time we speak of by one
who was not a great theologian but rather a great
religious personality, viz., F. D. Maurice. A chance
^ At the same time, a relationship has been found to exist
between the Evangelical and the Oxford Movements^ which,
however, Dean Stanley is probably quite right in speaking of as
exaggerated, " the succession which, though with some exagge
ration, has been traced, of the Oxford Movement to the
Wesleyan or so-called Evangelical Movement of the last
generation." (Christian Institutions, preface, p. 7.) Some
colour is given to this view by Dr. Newman's own account of
himself, as likewise by the Evangelical antecedents of other
Tractarian leaders. Hence, most writers on the Oxford Move
ment have dwelt on the connection between these two schools
of religious thought. Probably, the truth is that there vi'as a
general sense of the deficiencies of Evangelicalism which
expressed itself in the most various ways (the High and the
Broad Church, the Plymouth Brethren, the pure theism of
F. W. Newman, &c.).

14 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND parti
was in fact offered to the Broad Churchmen which
has not come, and which, it is to be feared, will not
come again in the lifetime of the present generation
of Englishmen. Instead, however, of taking advan
tage of what was thus placed within their reach, liberal
Churchmen tended towards vagueness and mystifica
tion in matters of religion ; some of them indeed
seemed even to suggest doubts as to the value of any
fixed determination of religious belief whatever. This
course not unnaturally alienated from the Broad
Church School the great body of Christian believers
in the Church of England, and at the same time
enabled extremists outside the Church to declare that
there was no half-way house between the acceptance
of High Church views and the rejection of the
Christian religion. Henceforward, individual Broad
Churchmen of more than ordinary gifts of character
and intellect might still be listened to by their
immediate followers, but their theological position in
the Church of England, so far as it had been achieved,
was forfeited, and the eyes of Churchmen were
turned in an altogether different direction.
But we spoke also of the social or ethico-social side
of this movement, by which we mean its effects in
bringing popular Christianity into closer sympathy
with social and political ideas, as also in causing to
be duly appreciated the refining and spiritualising in
fluence of culture, whether as consisting in the study
of what is true, the contemplation of what is beautiful,
or the pursuit of what is pleasant. Undoubtedly this
is the part of the work of these Broad Church
pioneers in which they were most successful, and foi
which they will be most remembered hereafter. Yet
not less true is it that the reason that we hear so
much less now than former])- of thc liroad Church
School is that its \\-iirk in this respect has been taken
up by the Church of England as a whole, or, as we
prefer to say, by that party which is becoming most
identified with the Church as a whole. There is now

CHAP. I GROWTH OF A SPIRIT OF UNIFORMITY 15
for example, in ecclesiastical circles, a recognition of
the importance of social reform undreamt of by
Maurice and Kingsley ; there is no modern represen
tative English High Churchman who does not take a
keen interest in the habits and recreations of the
working classes, or who does not hold more or less
decided opinions as regards the drink question. Nor
are clergymen of this type illiberal as regards what
they concede to man's natural desires. The old
puritanical observance of the Sabbath has been
relaxed ; a healthy interest in art, literature, and
politics is no longer proscribed ; pleasures formerly
reprobated as worldly and sinful are now seen to
serve a moral purpose, if duly regulated as regards
the manner and extent of indulgence in them. We
are not concerned to comment on these tendencies
which, though on the whole salutary, are no doubt
liable to special dangers, and require to be tested by
a stronger and sounder religious philosophy than has
yet been applied to them. All we desire to point out
is, that these tendencies owed their original influence
amongst religious men and women in England very
largely to the efforts of prominent Broad Churchmen,
whose example was then imitated and reproduced by
Churchmen of another and different type.
As for the Evangelicals, the decline of whose
influence in recent times has lately been the subject
of so much remark, it is enough to say here that that
part of their teaching which stands in closest relation
to personal religion has, in common with the other
tendencies mentioned above, to a great extent been
assimilated by the Neo-Cafholic movement of the
latter-day Church of England, as may be judged from
the sermons of her most eminent preachers. We need
hardly say that under this description we refer to the
preaching of "Jesus only." It will be understood
that the succeeding remarks have in view not this
principle of Evangelical religion itself (which we
should hold it both irreverent and irrelevant to intro-

i6 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part i
duce into the discussion) but merely the mode in
which it is now commonly treated by English High
Churchmen. Such mode of treatment may and does
differ from age to age. In the form which it now
assumes thc preaching of "Jesus only" may be re
garded as an attempt to satisfy that need of direct and
immediate presentation which is perhaps the chief
need of the human spirit in its most recent develop
ment. It is the same need which expresses itself in
our popular literature and philosophy, as likewise in
the realistic productions of modern art. It demands
the object itself, not the vehicle of thought by which
it is conveyed, nor the canon of criticism by which it
is justified. Now, no one who is acquainted with the
sermons and addresses of the most popular preachers
and missioners of the Church of England at the
present time — these being mostly High Churchmen —
will doubt that the Evangelical method of winning
souls here described is largely in favour amongst
them. An evangelical style of preaching is not un
common at the present time in Ritualist churches,
and, what may seem stranger still, even the services
of these latter have often a similar character. The
early tendency of the Oxford Movement was strongly
opposed to any such combination. In those days, we
are told, that even an emotional inflexion of the voice
was eschewed as savouring of an unchurchlike spirit.
But now, in many High Anglican churches, both the
preaching and the hymn singing are as warmly
effusive as in a Methodist chapel. The change was
due to that necessity for the reconciliation of opposites
to which, as we have seen, the Church was impelled.
Yet, none the less, it is not difficult to see which of
the two members of the combination is really in the
ascendant. The peculiarity, therefore, of the Church of England
in recent times consists in this, that whilst becoming
more and more the Church ofthe High Churchmen, it
has engrafted into its system principles of thought

CHAP. I GROWTH OF A SPIRIT OF UNIFORMITY 17
and action which are not, or which at least were not
originally, of this character. This peculiarity has,
however, been more conspicuously manifested in
regard to practical and devotional religion than in
regard to theology strictly so-called. Down to quite
recent times the theology of the New School remained
at much the same point at which it had been left
by the Tractarian Apologists. There might be wide
differences in the manner and method of treatment,
as for instance between such representative Church
men as Church, Mozley, Liddon, Arthur Haddan,
&c. But these Anglo-Catholic Divines and others
contemporary with them did not make any essentially
new contribution to the theology of their immediate
predecessors.! No doubt, there have been changes in
the point of view adopted by Churchmen of the same
school in times yet more recent. But it is impossible
to estimate the significance of these as yet merely
inchoate performances, or to do more than refer to
them as possible starting-points of a further theo
logical development. It is at all events onlyin QUITE
recent times — if at all — that there has been any such
development beyond the Theology of the movement
when it first started.
In other respects, however, the Oxford Movement
has developed an appreciative and assimilative
tendency which at the time of its origin would have
been inconceivable. Doubtless, as we have said, the
necessities of practical organisation required that
Churchmen should adopt this more conciliatory atti
tude towards each other at this particular time. Yet,
as has been already remarked, it would be a mistake
to suppose that during these years the dominant
party in the Church tended towards a rapprochement
with other parties on the basis of a common agree
ment to sink existing differences. No ecclesiastical
party can ever do that without the loss of its position,
^ I.e. as regards novelty of starting-point. It is not of course
meant that they did not make real contributions in other senses.
C

i8 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND parti
and it was part of the wisdom of the High Church
Party at this time that they refused to make peace on
these term.s. A body of Churchmen which in the
interests of social reform and in order to co-operate
with others, drops what is distinctive in its church
manship, is not only felt by mankind to be unworthy
of respect, but it also ceases any longer to have a
raison detre, since what it does can be done not less
efficiently by non-ecclesiastical agencies. As we have
said, however, the High Churchmen at this time did
NOT do this ; on the contrary, they resolved to impress
their own ecclesiastical organisation on whatever they
undertook, whether in the way of alleviating social
distress or in any other way. Hence at the SAME
time that they undermined the position of those who
previously had been working on different lines from
themselves, as above described, at the SAME time that
they borrowed from their opponents whatever seemed
likely to be of use for practical purposes, they
endeavoured also to monopolise the field of labour by
representing their own methods and modes of work
ing as those of the Church of England in its corporate
capacity. Their policy was thus only superficially
one of compromise and accommodation ; what it
really aimed at was the supersession of others by
themselves and the readjustment of the Church of
England on lines dictated by themselves.
In the carrying out of this work which they thus
took upon themselves, it must be admitted that in
many respects they ha\'e been highly successful.
Their great aim was to make religion ATTRACTIVE.
With this view, the popular taste was studied to an
extent which half a century ago would have seemed
both undesirable and undignified. In saying this wc
are referring not onl\' to the increased attention paid
to decency and comeliness in the public services of
the Church, but also to the organisation of home
missions and to the practice of carrying religion into
thc homes of the poor.

CHAP. I GROWTH OF A SPIRIT OF UNIFORMITY 19
We should be sorry indeed to seem to depreciate
either the work of this new school of Churchmen or
their way of doing it. Nor have wc any wish to
represent their success as due to mere cunning and
diplomacy, or as the result of a deeply-laid plot
intended to win for them the supremacy which as a
matter of fact they obtained. This impression may
have been produced by the description given above,
and is so far a true one that the High Church Party;
viewed as an ORGANISATION, did and does tend to
impress itself on the Church of England, both in the
ways we have mentioned and in other ways. But the
instinctive aims of an organisation need not be con
sciously entertained by the mass of the individuals
who compose it, though in most cases, and certainly
in this one, there are persons at the head of affairs
(not always the supposed heads) who act more or less
with deliberate intention. For the rest, it is sufficient
to say that the High Churchmen obtained the lead
in Church matters, because in many respects they
deserved to do so. They were honest and sincere in
their beliefs, zealous and indefatigable in their work,
and they had the great advantage, possessed by no
other Church party, of knowing both what they
wanted and how it mischt be reached.

C 3

CHAPTER II
DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES
I. — The Clergy
The interest of the English Church Movement of
the nineteenth century consists in its coincidence with
the more general movement of material and industrial
civilisation during the same period. Wholly independ
ent and even hostile as these two movements were in
their origin, they could not but affect each other in the
course of their subsequent development. Of course,
the chief influence exerted was that of the larger
movement on the smaller one, not vice versd. As a
matter of fact English ecclesiastical affairs have been
largely shaped and directed by the inventions and
improvements of modern mechanical science. Now,
it might seem that this latter influence would be all in
favour of universalism and against the formation of
classes and the exercise of class government, since
obviously as people are able to see each other and to
communicate with each other more easily and fre
quently, even though separated by -what were once
thought great distances of space, all merely local
and even provincial class associations must tend to
decrease. So obvious, indeed, is this aspect of the
case that in the first instance, in the early days of the
new industrial era, in the thirties and forties of the
present century, the reign of universal peace and
goodwill ivas expected to result from the influence of
these new agencies, and the ideas which are typically

CHAP. II DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 21
represented in Tennyson's" Locksley Hall" (a product
of this period) did not then appear nearly so visionary
as they do now.
Yet it will not seem wonderful that these high hopes
should have ended in disappointment, if we consider
the grounds on which they rested. For this movement
of contemporary civilisation tends quite as much to
wards the formation of class ties in one direction as it
does towards their loosening in another. We have only
to reflect what an opportunity for the organisation of
men spread all over the country in isolation from each
other these mechanical powers gave, and we shall
understand that what is called civilisation operates
quite as much to keep in existence classes based on
comnmitity of opinio?! and identity of interest as it does
to abolish the older classes based on local contiguity.
Mechanical inventions destroyed the older classes,
but these same agencies were the strength ofthe NEW
class formations which were thus able to gather their
members from all parts, and to keep them in touch
with each other, even when separated. Hence, as
those local and provincial limitations have tended to
disappear, there has been developed a disposition
towards class association of an altogether different,
though not less binding, character. The destruction
ofthe old restricted forms of union, instead of leaving
men to exist side by side as individuals on the one
hand, or uniting them in a universal brotherhood on
the other, has suggested to them the division of them
selves into classes representative of tendencies, the
organisation of such classes being greatly helped
by the power of rapid self-transfer and easiness of
communication. Universalism may no doubt be the final outcome
of this state of things ; as to that it is impossible to
say. But whatever may be the ultimate result, it
is certain that class division and class antagonism
were never more prevalent than they are now. Men
have, it is true, effaced the old distinctions, or are

22 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND parti
in process of doing so, and in forming new combin
ations they have adopted a wider basis of union.
But the particularism of class association remains as
strong now as ever it was, as may be seen from a
consideration of the chief opposing tendencies of
contemporary thought and life — the great dividing
lines of religious thought and social cleavage, not less
than the smaller divisions of ecclesiastical denomin
ations and political parties, were never more strongly
marked than they are now.
Now, the Church of England in its present state is
a product of these new influences, in some respects
indeed, strange as it may appear, their most charac
teristic product. The time when the Church was
hardening its lines and adapting itself more exclu
sively to a single, uniform, ecclesiastical t)'pe, was
likewise the time when this process was going on
everywhere else. The necessity that the organisation
of the Church should assume some one definite form
led to that form being chosen which was the most
definite, the most fitted as regards its own mem
bers for intensive class-association, the most strongly
marked in its character as regards outsiders. The
Broad Churchmen in the ecclesiastical sphere em
bodied the same desire for universalism which was
prevalent in other spheres, but which in every sphere
gave way before the still stronger desire for definite
limitations and restrictions. It is, in short, impossible
to explain recent English Church history except by
reference to the accompanying facts of modern
civilisation. And thus in considering further that
tendency towards uniformity of which we have been
speaking, and in treating of it in connection with the
clergy and laity of the Church of England, we must be
careful to remember that it was not wholly self-
developed ; the ecclesiastical germ was seized upon by
outside influences, and was thus made to expand,
though doubtless this could not have happened unless
(as must be the case in everything that lives and

chap. II DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 23
grows) it had contained in itself a principle CAPABLE
of expansion.
We shall now proceed to discuss the present
character of the Church of England clergy.
The clergy of the Church of England have tended
of late years to become more and more a class ; more
and more, they have formed themselves into a close
organisation which, whilst helping to consolidate their
scattered energies, has intensified their professional
distinctness from the rest of the community. There
would be nothing so wonderful in this if it were not
that it ran counter to all the traditions — good and bad
alike — of English clerical life. The BEST of the En
glish clergy since the commencement of the Georgian
Era have made much of the identification of their
own interests with those of their flocks ; they have
mixed on equal terms with the common life around
them, they have been esteemed as friends and neigh
bours scarcely less than as clergymen. The WORST
of the English clergy, during the same period, have
imitated only too closely the vices of the aristo
cracy and squirearchy to whom they have cringed,
they have neglected their duties whilst at the
same time seeking, and often bargaining for prefer
ment, and between these two extremes there have
been many degrees both of virtue and of vice. But
in all cases the conduct ofthe English clergy has be.en
in close dependence on the national life, and has re
flected that life. Now, however, we have before us a
state of things in which all this partly has been, but
still more is likely to be, changed.
This result is of course due in some degree to the
policy of the Church Party — now no longer a party
— whose history has been sketched above. Though
looked at in the large sense ancl with reference to the
ideas circulating in Europe at thc time of its com
mencement, the Oxford Movement was essentially
conservative, yet it admits of being regarded under an

24 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND parti
aspect which gives to it almost a revolutionary char
acter. Its professed aim, no doubt, was a return
to antiquity, either primitive, or mediaeval, or both ;
but in order for this aim to be carried out it was
necessary that all the subsequent and relatively
modern associations of the Church of England — more
especially those which are commonly called Georgian
— should be made to disappear. And this was a great
uprooting, for it involved the destruction or transfor
mation of much which had come in process of time to
seem inseparable from the existenceof the Established
Church, and which no doubt once had been so.
Nothing less than this, however, was the aim of the
movement when it was first started, and nothing less
than this has been the aim pursued throughout its
whole course. It was thus that Bumbledom was
expelled from our Parish Churches, and that services,
sermons, music, architecture, all alike underwent a
change. But in none of these ways did the Oxford
Movement show its tendency so plainl}' as in its
efforts to effect a transformation of the clergy. What
was desired was to make the clergy more professional,
and, in relation both to their patrons and their
dependents, less feudal ; to eliminate from their lives
the tendency to unclcricalise themselves in their
intercourse with other men, and, on the positive side,
to exalt the dignity of the clerical office and to draw
into closer corporate union those who, as the dispen
sers of sacramental privileges, were regarded as forming
a distinct and peculiar class.
The attempts made in this direction were, however,
only very partially successful. The old character of
the English clergy still to a great extent maintained
itself, more especially in the country districts where
ecclesiastical organisation was less easy, and feudal
influences were stronger. Yet cver^'where a great
change was witnessed, though c\-en the most repre
sentative clergymen of thc new school adapted
themselves in many respects to the old English

CHAP. II DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 25
parochial system as it had come down to them from
the last century. The Anglican clergy have indeed
never altogether broken with the old system or alto
gether conformed with the new. The latter would
have required them to remain celibate, or at least
would have tended in that direction ; as young men
it would have gathered them into clerical seminaries ;
in later life it would have stripped them of their
present social position and influence, and would have
made them to a great extent dependent for their
maintenance on what they received from others ;
above all, instead of being petty autocrats within their
own parochial spheres, it would have rendered them
obedient to the word of command from head-quarters.
All this and much more than this would have been
involved, if the English clergy had conformed in a
thoroughgoing spirit with the continental model of
clerical duty.
But besides that the Church laity, who after all
(as we shall see presently) are the really governing
class in the Church of England, would not have
tolerated this result, the traditional associations of
English clerical life were too strong to be thus
suddenly set aside and altogether reversed. The
wisest Churchmen of the time (wisest at all events as
regards the matter in question), of whom we may
perhaps select Bishop Wilberforce as a typical
instance, saw this — they saw at once the strength of
the new influences generated by the Oxford Move
ment, and, at the same time, they were aware of the
immense force of repulsion against which those
influences had to contend. And what was clearly
perceived by Churchmen of exceptional capacity was
instinctively felt and acted upon by men of a lower
order of intelligence, and thus the rank and file of
the English clergy came to present thc features of a
h}'brid development. They were bitten by the new
teaching, within certain limits they showed them
selves extremely amenable to its influence ; some of

26 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND' parti
the more earnest and active amongst them went very
far in this direction indeed. But none the less, they
recognised a point beyond which they could not go,
and beyond which they did not WISH to go. They
were happy in their homes, happy in the education
they had received at the Pubhc Schools and Uni
versities, happy in the possession of social influence,
happy in their intercourse with the mixed life of the
world, As usual, different motives — some to be
admired, others not so — led them to the actual position
they took up, which v/as that of a thoroughly
English compromise.
Hence, as regards the particular matter with which
we are here concerned, viz. the increasing tendency
of the clergy to form themselves into a separate and
distinct class, what was done consciously and overtly
with a view to this end of the Church's own motion
-would not perhaps have amounted to much, had it
not been that there were forces of an independent
and non-ecclesiastical character urging the Church in
the same direction. Apart from these latter and more
general influences, the clerical revolution would
probably not have gone beyond the occasional
defiance of the law by individual clergymen. No
doubt, too. High Church Training Colleges for the
clergy -would have been founded, intended to
foster a similar disposition, together with some other
educational institutions of a like kind. But neither
the illegal practices of the Ritualists, nor the educa
tional efforts of the extreme Pligh Church Party
would have had, any more than as a matter of fact
they did have, much effect on the clergy as a class,
if the Church of England had been left to herself, and
had not been impelled further in the direction
towards which she was alrcad)- timidl)- drifting by
forces o\'cr which she had herself no control. These
more general influences wc nscribc to those improved
means of locomotion and communication which, as
we have seen, in all departments of life have so

CHAP. II DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 27
immensely affected the social devolopment of Modern
England. That the transformation of English social life
under the new influences above referred to had a very
material effect on the position of the Anglican clergy
cannot be doubted, though this effect has been less
generally noticed than some others following from
the same causes. Few persons now probably have
any conception of the extreme localisation of clerical
interests previous to the introduction of railways,
telegraphs, and the penny post. The ecclesiastical
aspect of these changes might indeed easily be
ignored when so much attention was being called to
their effects in other directions. Yet in no other
direction was the effect produced more real, though it
might in some others be more striking. It was not
merely that the social position of the clergy was thus
changed. As to that, so far as it bears on our
present subject we shall have something to say
presently. But now we are concerned with the
position of the clergy as an ecclesiastical body. The
ecclesiastical effect of these changes — which did not
for a long time nor until quite recently show
itself — consisted in this, that the clergy now became
united together as a class to an extent which had
never before been witnessed. Previously, each
clergyman had been isolated in his own district
without knowledge of his clerical brethren, except of
those in his immediate neighbourhood. There were
at that time few clergymen of widespread, public
reputation whose influence radiated throughout the
Church. It was not that there were not men of
merit enough to be thus esteemed, but rather that there
were no channels of influence through which this
merit could convey itself The one luminary of his
own order whom a clergyman of thc olden time did
esteem, because of him he HAD some slight personal
knowledge, was his own Bishop. Distinguished men
amongst the clergy who had not this titular eminence

28 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part i
were not personally much known beyond their
parochial spheres, and we are often surprised to find
how little clerical scholars and divines of acknow
ledged worth seem to have been regarded by their
contemporaries.' Again, in the olden time the centre of ecclesiastical
interest was in the rural districts of England rather
than in the towns ; the most characteristic specimens
of the clerical profession, good and bad alike, were
country parsons. Now, no doubt, country parishes
are the best material for developing the pastoral side
of the clerical office, which indeed is that side of it in
which up till quite recently the Church of England
has been the most successful. But this field of labour
gives little scope for associated efforts of clerical
organisation. On the other hand, the towns were not
then the seats of intelligence that they are now, and
they were served for the most part by an inferior class
of clergy who were not more stimulating than their
environment. No doubt a good deal of missionary
and evangelistic work was done in the towns by those
within the Church who followed in the footsteps of
Wesley and Whitefield. Yet the one great difference
between Methodism and Church of England Evan
gelicalism consisted in this, that the latter showed no
' Some of the most eminent clerg)'men of the Church of
England in the eighteenth century remained during a great part
of their li\es unbeneficed. "There were not wanting ....
unbeneficed clergymen who in point of abilities and condition
might have held their own with the learned prelates of the
period. Thomas Stackhouse, the curate of Finchley, is a
remarkable case in point. His Coinplcat Body of Divinity , and
still more his History of fhe Bible, published in 1733, are worthy
to stand on the same shelf with the best writings of the Bishops
in au age when thc Bench was extraordinarily fertile in learning
and intellectual activity. John Newton wrote most of his works
in a country curacy. Romainc, whose learning and abilities
none can doubt, was fifty years old before he was beneficed.
Seed, a preacher and writer of note, was a curate for the greater
part of his life." — Abbey and Overton, English Church in the
Eighteentli Century, vol. xii. p. 17.

chap. II DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 29
capacity for organisation, whereas the former was as
much distinguished by the perfection of its machinery
and its organised efforts for doing good as by its
preaching of the gospel.'
Such then was the state of things previous to the
new industrial era and the Oxford Movement. For,
as we have said, in order to understand this latter,
we must consider it in connection with the new social
and industrial development which was contemporary
with it and which affected and was affected by it,
little as these two things may seem to have in
common. Now, as has been already pointed out, the first
effect of the improved facilities for communication
caused by the introduction of new mechanical
inventions and appliances was to bring the Anglican
clergy into closer union with each other. The
Church's work in one part of the country was now
easily signalled to every other part ; active and
enterprising clergymen could be about everywhere at
a moment's notice ; they could have an immense
acquaintance and an immense correspondence. Tidings
of any new undertaking in Church work which had
proved successful spread with marvellous rapidity
and produced imitations far and wide. A. cheap
popular Church literature sprang up which made the
clergy acquainted with the opinions of those with
whom they wished to agree. Above all, the new
^ It was on a question of organisation, viz. as regards the
parochial system of the Church of England, which seemed to
him indefensible, that Wesley separated himself from the
Evangelicals. The alternative suggested by Wesley, that of
itinerant preaching, may not be the best remedy. Yet we are
not so well satisfied with the working of the parochial system,
more especially in country districts, as to be able altogether to
agree with the spirit of Mr. Overton's remark when he says
" He " (Wesley) " predicted that even the earnest parochial
clergy of his day would prove a mere rope of sand — a prophecy
which the subsequent events will scarcely endorse." — (Abbey
and Overton, C. H., vol. ii. p. 76.)

30 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part l
influences produced a desire for association amongst
the clergy and in the Church generally, the result
being new Church societies. Church congresses,
attempts at synodal action. Church guilds and
confraternities of all sorts and for all sorts of
objects, some of them scarcely, if at all, con
nected with the ecclesiastical movement of which
they were the outcome. Thomas Mozley has re
marked of the Oxford Movement that " whatever
may be said of its priestcraft, it has filled the land
with Church crafts of all kinds. Has it not had some
share in the restoration of biblical criticism and in the
revision of the Authorised Version .' " What seems
to be meant is, not that biblical criticism and exegesis
arc themselves an outcome of the Oxford Movement,
but that these results may be traced to that habit of
association which the Oxford Movement has engen
dered, and which it derived from the larger movement
of civilisation of which it was part.
Now, obviously all this tended to make the clerical
body more one throughout, more like-minded and
homogeneous. There is a wa}' of doing things which
more and more in each department of clerical labour
has come to be observed ; more and more, clergymen
are learning to look at things from the same point of
view and to know what they are expected to think on
any given subject ; more and more, a clerical class
type tends to prevail, as may be seen even from such
small indications as those of manner and tone of
voice. No doubt, part of this effect is due to the
influence of clerical Training Colleges, as likewise
to the example of certain chief men amongst the
clergy who have gathered round them a school of
imitators. But, as we have said, neither of these
influences would have produced such marked and
such widely spread results, if there had not been other
more general forces tending in the same direction.
These forces, which in their origin were social and
industrial, were made use of for ecclesiastical purposes.

CHAP. II DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 31
The clergy thus came to know their strength, for, as
has been already pointed out, these new forces were
as potent to create and maintain classes which were
independent of all merely local associations, as they
were to destroy classes whose only claim to existence
was derived from this source.
Another influence which helped to develop and
intensify clericalism in the Church of England was
the decline — or at all events the transformation — of
the influence of the Church and of her clergy in the
Universities. These latter were now throwm open to
persons of all denominations, whilst by the University
Statutes of 1877 all or nearly all strictly clerical
privileges were abolished. Now, academical influences
are dead against clerical and ecclesiastical organisation.
They no doubt often — indeed almost always — asso
ciate themselves with the established forms of religion,
and they encourage a treatment of religious subjects
which is usually conciliatory and sometimes even
conservative. But nevertheless they are very un
favourable to a strong system of Church Govern
ment ; they shake the basis of such a system by the
application to it of general ideas and liberal culture.
Hence it will easily be understood that whilst the
maintenance of the connection between the Church
and the Universities acted as a hindrance to clericalism,
the fact of the clergy becoming much less academical
was a cause of their becoming much more distinctively
andexclusively clerical;
The loosening of the tie itself had been in progress
for some considerable time before it was legalised by
State intervention. In point of fact, quite apart from
any legislation affecting the position of the Church in
the Universities, the Anglican clergy have long been
growing less academical ; the set of the Church of
England has not been in this direction. Not that in
one sense the Church is on that account losing ground
at the Universities. It is indeed not certain, and by
the most competent authorities would probably be

32 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART i
denied, that the influence of the Church in the Uni
versities is less strong now than it was thirty years
ago. But that influence — though it may not be less
strong — is of a wholly different kind ; it is the influence,
no longer of an official and established institution, but
of a private and voluntary one. Hence, whilst out
side the university curriculum and independently of
it, much spiritual good is being derived by members
of the university from the Church's teaching, and
much active good is being done both by graduates and
undergraduates, in the shape of the promotion of
Church work, there is no inherent relationship of
the clergy to the universities such as existed formerly
owing to the clerical composition of the governing
bodies of colleges, the acceptance of college livings by
the fellows of colleges, and above all the almost exclu
sive preoccupation of men's minds at the universities
with those same Church questions with which the
clerical mind was preoccupied throughout the country.
It is not intended to imply that in consequence of
their less academical character, the clergy are now
less learned or less cultivated than they were formerl)-,
but only that the tendcnc)' of this characteristic is to
help further to convert the clergy into a separate and
distinct class. The clergy now-a-days are doubtless
a better educated body of men both generally and as
regards the requirements of their profession than the)'
were formerly. But the very improvement of the
clergy in this respect is of a strictl)' professional kind
and has very little in it of that assimilative spirit
which is due to academical influences. It would in
deed be an injustice to speak of the training which a
typical High Church clergyman now passes through
as being of a " seminarist " type. But undoubtedly
it tends more in that direction than it does towards
the association of religion with humanistic studies and
general enlightenment.' We regard this therefore as
' It has been found somewhat difficult to describe briefly the
nature and elTect of the tendency here referred to. In an essay

CHAP II DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 33
another influence tending to convert the clergy into a
separate and distinct class.
But a much stronger influence in this latter direction
is that arising from the changes which of late years
have taken place in the social position of the clergy
and which we shall now briefly discuss. As we have
said, the original tendency of the Oxford Movement
was adverse to the claims of the Anglican clergy to
continue to rank as men of social position and influ
ence apart from their profession. At the same time,
we said that this original tendency of the movement
found itself checked by strong conservative preposses
sions influencing the clergy in an opposite direction,
the result being a compromise. We now go on to
observe that this question was not left to be decided
by the Anglican clergy, or at all events not by them
alone. Of late years there has been growing up in
England, as every one knows, a very strong demo
cratic feeling, and this feeling, though it has not
written now more than thirty years ago, and entitled " Learning
in the Church of England " (Essays, vol. ii., ed. Nettleship) —
an essay -\vhich was far more prophetic than retrospective —
Mark Pattison analysed in his usual masterly fashion the
depression of learning amongst the Anglican clergy in their
latter-day development. He compared the clergy who were the
outcome of the Oxford Movement very unfavourably in this
respect with their predecessors. The present writer agrees with
the essayist in his main view, but he considers it too much to
expect that a movement which has spread itself over the length
and breadth of the land should preserve the same learned
character which it had when it was confined to a small circle of
students at Oxford in its first days. He also thinks that if the
essay were written now, it would require to be corrected so far
as to show more recognition of the attainments of a large
number of the working clergy, and of their efforts to improve
themselves. It is not so much that the Anglican clergy as a
class are now so destitute of learning, as that their learning, like
everything else pertaining to them, seems to run increasingly in
a fixed professional, and therefore non-academical, groove.
Everything centres on "the work of the Church." A clergy
man's width of knowledge often serves to make him not less but
more narrow through not being combined with width of view. D

34 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part I
shown itself to be anti-clerical after the continental
fashion, and it is to be hoped will not do so, is yet
violently opposed to the aristocratic connection of the
Church of England, and to the retention by Angli
can clergymen of their emoluments — at all events as
at present distributed — and social position. It is not
our concern to inquire here whether, as is often as
serted, the clergy deserve these attacks owing to their
being for the most part on the Tory side in politics ;
enough for us that this feeling exists and is exceedingly
strong. There can, we say, be no doubt that there
are at the present time large classes of persons who
resent what seems to them the unduly favoured posi
tion of the Anglican clergy in respect of the matters
we have mentioned, and these are persons who pos
sess great influence in determining the character of
contemporary legislation, and whose efforts are likely
to be directed even more than they have been already
(whether by disestablishment or otherwise is for the
present purpose not important) to reduce the clergy
of the Church of England, relatively to what they
have been, to social insignificance.
But neither from their aristocratic friends do the
Anglican clergy now receive the same support as re
gards their MATERIAL and SOCIAL position that they
once did. The Church clergy are, no doubt, now in
high favour with the rich and well-born, and with men
and women of exalted rank and station. Never, in
deed, was this more the case than it is now. But
then what these classes care for about the clergy now
is very different from what they once cared for. The
attraction which the clergy now exercise in the eyes
of the aristocracy consists much less than formerly in
their being bound to them by local and parochial
ties. The great folk amongst the aristocracy, even if
they are zealously affected towards the Church
(which of course is not alwa)'s the case), are now too
much in London or elsewhere away from their coun
try homes to see much of the parson in whose parish

CHAP. II DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 35
their property lies. They help him by their subscrip
tions and official patronage, and — provided he is not
a persona ingrata — they are glad during their oc
casional visits to offer him hospitality and to cultivate
his acquaintance. But this is very different from the
old quasi-feudal relation subsisting between the
parson and the squire. On the other hand, the smaller
country gentry of England are now in a very
straitened position, and are rapidly decreasing in
number. It would be too much to expect one
socially declining class to be able to give much assist
ance to another in the same condition. The above
remarks refer, of course, exclusively to the coiintry
clergy — a class of men whose social status is further
prejudiced by the present depreciation in value of the
sources of their incomes.
The clergy now most in favour with the world of
fashion are either those who have made their influence
felt as preachers or as organisers in our large towns,
or else those who through not less exceptional, though
different, powers have acquired an assured position
outside their own parishes in the country. In either
case, but especially in the former, the clergyman of
distinction — whether real or merely supposed — be
comes ever more in request in proportion as the rich
and well-to-do classes have increased means afforded
them of seeking him out. Not that the clergy more
generally, those of them at least who represent the
dominant type of churchmanship, do not also receive
the support of the most influential classes of English
society so far as regards Church observances and
attendances, and so far as regards their agreement
with the clergy in matters of Church order, ritual and
ceremonial. But this attachment is felt towards the
clergy as a professional body ; it does not, as in the
other case, even take much account of their indi
vidual gifts, but only of their indispensableness to the
ecclesiastical system. To understand the strength of
this attachment, it must be remembered that the
D 2

35 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND parti
Church of England in its present state and the
Church's patrons in " Society " are in many respects
products of the same, or at least of similar, causes. In
iDOth there is the same appeal to an antiquity which,
in the form given to it, is essentially modern ; in both
there is an imported democratic element; in both
there is the same love of immediate effect, the same
spurious aestheticism, the same desire to please all
tastes. The Anglican mode of worship in its neo-
catholic garb is well suited to the sensuous imagina
tion, and the current Anglican system of teaching to
the not too inquiring intelligence, of a modern
fashionable London congregation. Such are some of
the correspondences between the Church and " So
ciety " which, however, affect the clergy rather
officially than individually and personally.
Hence, the relation of the wealthy and well-born
classes to the Church of England is now essentially an
ecclesiastical one. The one point of our argument is
that the clergy are drifting from their old social moor
ings, just as we saw that in like manner they were
losing their connection with the universities ; for better
or worse, they are being thrown back on themselves
and on their ecclesiastical and professional avocations.
Even the superior clergy are being subjected to the
same influences. Thus, bishops and other Church
dignitaries are becoming every year socially less im
portant personages. The bishops, indeed, are perhaps
not compensated for this loss by any addition to their
ecclesiastical importance ; for the Church has now so
many able and efficient workers in spheres of organis
ing activity which the bishops used formerly to
monopolise, that it seems as if this must, except with
those of them who are giants, tend to weaken their
prestige as rulers. Yet it is difficult to say how far
this is likely to be the case.
We have now stated our views as regards the pres
ent position of the clergy. We consider that the
clergy are tending, and still more WILL tend, to

chap. II DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 37
become a separate and distinct class. They were partly
themselves inclined, but still more they were driven,
to adopt this attitude by the operation of forces
beyond their control.
We have only one other remark to make before
proceeding to discuss the present condition of the
Church laity. The power ofthe clergy in the Church
of England is very strictly limited ; it is limited not
only by law, but also and still more, as we are about
to point out, by the Church laity. There can be no
greater mistake than that of representing the Church
of England as in danger of a clerical tyranny. The
Anglican clergy have become more separate and ex
clusive, but this has not made them ecclesiastically
supreme. We shall return to this matter presently.
We will content ourselves now by observing that
whilst we agree with those who argue for an increase
of the lay element in Church government, we do not
make this claim on the ground of the arbitrariness of
the powers exercised by the clergy. It is not the
fact that the clergy of the Church of England incline
as a class to arbitrary government. Parishes probably
more often suffer from the want of some lead being
given by the clergyman than from clerical domination,
and this in itself is a strong reason for the proposed
change. The fault of our present system is twofold,
consisting, first, in the fact that it is legally, or at all
events practically, open to any obnoxiously dispo.sed
incumbent to assert his own rights against those of a
majority of his parishioners ; secondly, in the fact that
the clergy are not more associated with the laity in
parochial administration, by which means not only
would parishes be more efficiently and representatively
governed, but the laity would be made to feel the
sense of church-membership, instead of regarding
themselves as outsiders in the Church to which they
belong. At the same time, though we readily admit
the necessity of changes in this direction, we repeat,
the Church laity are, even as matters stand now.

38 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part i
VIRTUALLY supreme in the Established Church ;
merely, as in the case of so many other English in
stitutions, those who have the real power either do
not exercise it, or do so only at rare intervals. This
is why it is often supposed that the Church of Eng
land is clerically governed, whereas in point of fact, as
will appear presently, the characteristic peculiarity of
this Church is that it is governed not by the clergy
but by the Church laity.

CHAPTER III
DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES
II. — The Church Laity
We come now to speak of the Church laity, a
class which we shall understand to include those and
only those who worship according to the form and
who are sympathetically disposed towards, if they are
not actually engaged in, the work of the Church of
England. Now, we shall endeavour to show that
the Church laity, as thus understood, are in like
manner forming themselves into a separate and
distinct class, and that by degrees they are becoming
differentiated from the rest of the community, instead
of diffusing themselves over this latter and coalescing
with it.
When we hear it said, as we so often do at the
present time, that the work of the Church of England
in recent years has been a triumphant success, and
that this circumstance justifies the continued existence
of that Church as an establishment, we are many of
us so carried away by partisan predilections as to be
quite unable to see that this assertion may be true in
one sense and yet false in another. The fact is, that
the Church of England has not of late years attracted
a greater number of people, but that to those whom
she does attract she has made herself very much
MORE attractive. We have to do now only with
these last.

40 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND parti
We have already said a good deal as regards the
tendency of the Church of England to become a class,
but our remarks thus far have been intended to apply
chiefly to the Anglican clergy. The Church laity
(no doubt, owing to there being in their case no pro
fessional interest involved) do not manifest such a
strong disposition towards intensive class association.
Yet the change which has passed over the Church of
England of late years as regards its laity is in some
ways more remarkable even than the transformation
of its clergy ; for these latter must always have been
drawn together more or less by a feeling of esprit de
corps, whereas in the case of the laity this feeling is
of comparatively recent growth. The profession of
churchmanship in England is now a very definite
thing ; the Church of England, of late years, has
become highly differentiated and denominational ;
her own increased earnestness, which will not allow
her to rest satisfied with the same easy-going terms
of membership as formerly, has contributed amongst
other causes to this result. It is true that much of
the old feeling still survives ; we are speaking rather
of a growing tendency than of an accomplished fact,
and of course we are aware that many of those who
frequent Anglican churches do not comply with the
more exacting requirements which the Church now
imposes. Yet, none the less, the main tendency of
that party in the Church of England which is most in
earnest and which commands the most general
support is now, and is likely to be still more, towards
a very definite religionism, and our point is that
whilst this tendency eliminates the old formal wor
shippers, together with many others whose worship
is not formal, it converts those who remain into a
compact and united body separated from the rest of
the community by distinct class attributes to an
extent prcviousl)- unknown.
Now, it was not until the t)^pe of religion which
was destined, for thc time at any rate, to prevail in

chap, in DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 41
the Church of England had distinctly emerged, that
the full nature of the contrast between those who
did and those who did not accept the newly defined
position of this Church could be perceived. Pre
viously, there had been parties in the Church which
had reflected different shades of opinion current
amongst the laity. More particularly the Broad
Church Party strove to give effect to the opinions of
laymen generally ; such at least was the governing
purpose of the teaching of Arnold and Stanley,
Maurice and Kingsley. As long as this was so, as
long as the Church of England was not exclusively
identified with any one of the parties who claimed a
share in her inheritance, there could be no ground for
the assertion that she was becoming less national and
more denominational. But as these and other differ
ences were reduced to insignificance, or (what was the
same thing) were made to appear compatible with
High Anglican principles, the Church of England,
thus formed, became ecclesiastically the Church of a
class. It will perhaps, however, be said that if all that is
meant is that the Church of England has tended to
assume a single uniform type, this tendency does not
necessarily imply any class or denominational char
acter attaching to the Church ; many, indeed most
Churches, which have been national, and some which
in their time have been almost universal, as e.g., the
Church of Rome, have been based on a single
uniform ecclesiastical principle, and might, with as
much and more reason therefore, have been spoken
of as class denominations. But our contention is, not
merely that the Church of England is tending towards
uniformity, but that she is excluding from her com
munion those whom otherwise she would have
included, and that in this sense she is becoming the
Church of a class. The fact is that the Church of
England, not being able to have two good things,
resolved at least to have one. The assaults of the

42 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART l
modern revolutionary movement could only be met
in one or other of two ways ; either by comprehension,
concession and conciliation ; or else by a less diffusive
and desultory mode of warfare, a closing together of
the lines within narrower limits, a more united army
and a more definite programme, carrying with it the
loss of doubtful and half-hearted allies.^ The Church
of England chose the latter of these two policies, each
of which is strong precisely where the other is weak.
It may be thought inconsistent with this charac
terisation of the present state of the Church of
England, that we have above indicated absorption
and assimilation of foreign matter as chief features
of Anglo-Catholicism in its most recent development.
' Cp. Thomas Mozley, Reminiscences, vol. ii. p. 384. " Forty
years ago .... the state of things just as they were did not
seem a sufficient basis for defence against the general dissolution
of faith threatening the Church. If we would continue to believe
what we professed, we must all believe more, and find in more
definite ideas a protection from growing carelessness and
indifference." Mozley presents the two alternatives at that time
as consisting the one, in the adoption of a " more Catholic form
and manner ; " the other, in " the removal of everything dis
agreeable to Liberals, Dissenters and Anti-Sacramentarians."
The same two alternatives are presented, though from an
opposite point of view, in the following well-known passage of
Dr. Arnold. " The very notion of an extensive society implies
a proportionate laxity in its point of union. There is a choice
between an entire agreement with a veiy few, or general agree
ment with many, or agreement in some particular points with
all ; but entire agreement with many, or general agreement
with all, are things impossible. Two individuals might possibly
agree in three hundred articles of religion, but as they add to
their own numbers, they must diminish that of their own under
standings .... Infallibility and ignorance can alone avert
differences of opinion. Men at once fallible and inquiring have
their choice either of following these differences up into endless
schisms, or of allowing them to exist together unheeded, under
the true bond of agreement of principle. The real question is
not what theoretical articles a man will or will not subscribe
to, but how we may embody within the National Church the
fundamental Christian fellowship we profess, and realise in this
life the Universal communion ofthe world to come."

CHAP. Ill DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 43
But we have shown also that this policy, rightly
understood, does not aim at the comprehension or
toleration of differences, but at the reduction of them
to the Church's own way of thinking. It may be, no
doubt, that those who now give the law to the
Church of England are quite right from their own
point of view in thus acting ; as to that we express
no opinion. All we say is, that we can see in this
course of proceeding nothing inconsistent with our
description of the Church of England as tending more
and more to become a class Church, and hence to
array itself against other classes which formerly it
contained within its own communion.
The Church of England then, or what is now
coming to be thought of as such, has of late years not
so much herself inclined as been driven by the
necessities of her own practical organisation to adopt
a position of great exclusiveness, and the effect of
this has been to alienate in heart, if not in outward
act, many of those who were formerly attached to her
communion. This alienation has taken two forms —
the one sectarian, the other altogether undenomina
tional. We shall speak more particularly as regards
both these classes later. As regards the former, it
may be sufficient now to say that the number of those
who have become estranged from the Church and
have joined some other form of communion, is less
than under the circumstances might have been
expected, though those who have taken this course
have greatly suffered by being forced to attach them
selves to denominations which in a different direction
are far narrower than the Church and are not, like
the Church, incorporated with the national life. On
the other hand, the Church has thus alienated or has
helped to alienate from herself (for we do not mean
to say that the Church is wholly responsible) a very
considerable class of persons who are impatient of all
denominational restrictions, the greater part perhaps
(as we shall hereafter see) because they despair of the

44 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART i
possibility of any religion, but not a few likewise
because the Faith of Christ does not seem to them
to be understood by any of the Churches in a large
spiritual sense. These latter are very different from
the mere formal worshippers, many of whom the
Church's action has also tended to exclude, though
the aim of professional ecclesiastics is now, as it
always has been, to confound these two classes of
persons together.
Yet in spite of this narrowing tendency of Anglican
ecclesiasticism, the Church laity of the Church of
England are in many respects exceedingly LIBERAL,
so much so indeed that the Church of England
derives from this fact its peculiar character. In order
to understand this, we must consider more carefully
the position which the Anglican laity hold in their
Church as compared with the position of the laity of
other Churches of the same, or of anything like the
same, antiquity.
Let us repeat then what has been already said ; it
is by no means the case that the Church of England
is now to an alarming extent dominated by her
clergy, is in fact fast becoming clericalised. It is one
thing to say that the clergy have tended to become a
separate and distinct class, it is another thing to say
that the clergy have tended to become supreme. The
peculiar characteristic of the Anglican clergy at the
present time is that they have tended in the first of
these directions without thus acquiring for themselves
supremacy or even ascendency. The supreme class
in the Church of England at the present time is the
Church laity. It is the ecclesiastically minded portion
of the community who exercise the real control over
the Church through the Church clergy as their repre
sentatives. No doubt, the clergy remain technically
in possession of man)- rights the exercise of which
makes them to a certain extent independent of lay
control ; many obsolete forms of clerical privilege,
especially in parochial administration, have not yet

CH.\p. HI DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 45
been abolished. But if changes in these respects were
to take place, as it may be hoped that before long
they will do, the clergy would only thus be made more
easily amenable to an influence which they even now
obey ; their position would not be radically different
from what it is at present. For clericalism, so far as
it exists in the Church of England, does not originate
solely with the clergy. To suppose that it does so is
to ignore the deep roots of ecclesiasticism in the
minds of the Church laity. It is these latter who
really assign to the clergy the limits of their authority
and the extent of their power. The Anglican clergy,
in short, have at present a great deal of the form, but
not much of the reality, of power, and the only effect
of any legal changes affecting their position will be to
make this truth more evident and to bring the
machinery of the Church's constitution more into
harmony with existing facts.
Now the Church laity, though latterly, as we have
seen, themselves becoming less liberal and thereby
alienating from the Church the non-ecclesiastical
portion of the community, have yet, by keeping the
reins of power in their own hands, exercised a
liberalising influence on the Anglican clergy who, in
spite of appearances to the contrary, occup)^ a sub
ordinate position in the ecclesiastical constitution of
the Church of England. This is in fact the great
difference between thc Church of England and the
Church of Rome, in comparison with which all other
differences are insignificant. It is due to this cause
that the High Church Party in the Church of England
have never been really a Romanising party, though it
is not wonderful that this tendency should have been
constantly imputed to them by their enemies. The
fact is precisely as Principal Tulloch has stated it : —
" The Anglo-Catholic tendency ... . has more than
once in the course of its history shown an inclination
towards Romanism ... In times of excitement and
agitation of the principles lying at its foundation this

46 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part i
is inevitable. But it would nevertheless be a grave
mistake to confound the general movement with these
occasional vacillations."' And the explanation of
this fact is to be found, we think, not in any logical
" thus far and no further" formulated by Anglican
divines or ecclesiastics, but rather in the influence of
the Church laity, who have never as a class en
couraged what is called sacerdotalism, except in matters
of external ceremonial capable of being appreciated by
themselves. This too is the explanation of the change
which the Oxford Movement underwent and in con
sequence of which it ultimately found favour with the
large mass of English Churchmen who, at first in its
Puseyite, and then in its Ritualistic, garb had
regarded it as a form of Romanism.
Lastly, this fact, viz., that quite apart from the
secular control of ecclesiastical affairs by the nation
at large, there has also been a control more from
within the Church exercised by the Church laity,
explains the occasional inclination of Anglo-Catholi
cism towards Liberalism. It will be shown later
that the whole hope of improvement in the
Church of England is derived from this fact.
Meantime, and as regards the historical part of the
matter. Principal Tulloch deserves again to be quoted,
though whathe says refers primarily to the seventeenth
century. " This is one of the strange anomalies with
which we meet in religious developments. Puritanism
which began in impulses of libert)- and which through
all its history has been so associated with the assertion
of political independence and the rights of conscience,
has yet always been intolerant of dogmatic differences.
 From no quarter did the liberal theological
spirit receive more discountenance, or more fervent
denunciation and resistance. On the other hand, the
High Church Party, while servile in spirit and tyrannic
in the exercise of constituted authority, is found. . .
' Tulloch, Ratiotial Theology in England, Ss-'c. in tlic Seven
teenth Century, vol. i. p. 63.

CH.\P. UI DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 47
extending patronage to the earliest of our
rational theologians. All these theologians came out
of the bosom of the party, and continued more or less
closely associated with it." ' We might perhaps adduce
as a parallel instance what we noted above, viz. the
community of spirit which in some matters affiliated
the Broad Church Party to the Oxford Movement,
and which distinguished Churchmen of both these
ways of thinking from the Evangelicals, who were
less liberal. But, however this may be, it is certain
that the latter-day Liberalism of the High Church
Party in the Church of England is not a clerical
propensity, but is distinctly due to the influence of
the Church laity. And, indeed, we shall find signs
enough to show that the Church laity of the Church
of England, though, as we have seen, strongly marked
by an ecclesiastical class type, have yet retained an
amount of independence which, in a priest-ridden or
unduly clericalised Church, would be impossible.
Take, for instance, the position of women. The
ranks of the faithful in all Christian Churches at the
present time are composed to a large extent, in some
almost entirely, of women. Now, in the Church of
Rome, which is a Church ruled by priests, women are
allowed very little independence, less and less prob
ably in proportion as they become more devout ;
much less would they think of interfering with the
management of Church affairs except in entire sub
ordination to the priests. In English Churchwomen,
on the other hand, we see two characteristics of the
feminine nature asserting themselves, both of which
are opposed to anything like clerical domination
In the first place, we think that in Church matters
more than in any others it has been shown amongst
ourselves that the force of tradition as distinguished
from that of personal association is weaker in
women than it is in men. In the second place, we
notice amongst ourselves, likewise especially in rela-
' Tulloch, R. T. in England, vol. i. pp. 63 — 64.

48 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND [part i
tion to Church matters, as a further characteristic of
woman's nature, her power of going straight to the
object of her desire by the instinct of feeling, and the
habit thence arising of setting on one side, often with
out knowing it, the methods prescribed by custom
and conventional decorum. Now it is ultimately to
woman's influence, as derived from these two charac
teristics, that we must ascribe all those short cuts, if
we may so call them, which have been taken of late
years in the Church of England, towards a more im
mediate realisation of the object of Christian worship,
whence have resulted so many changes in the manner
of conducting Church services, and in the character
of sermons, as well as in the literature of religious
edification and devotion. Though, therefore, we do
not mean to represent that English Churchwomen are
not as regards all the essential demands of their
Church on the side of what is established, we hold
that their action in Church matters shows that they
are not to any great extent clericalised, and that in
this respect they reflect the spirit of the English
Church laity in general.
Take as another instance of the comparative free
dom and independence of the English Church laity,
their disposition as regards secular knowledge and
affairs. There again those of the laity with whom
church-membership is a realit)^ are easily distinguish
able from others of a different, or at all events not
virtually of this, way of thinking ; it takes but a little
acquaintance with zealously affected Church people to
recognise them as what the)' are even in the mixed
life of the world. Yet it is not indifference to know
ledge, nor incapacity for the discharge of business
which constitutes this difference between English
Churchmen and other Englishmen ; nor is there any
thing either in the traditions or in the current pro
fession of Anglican churchmanship to encourage a
spirit of estrangement from secular interests such as
has often prevailed, and to a certain extent still pre-

CHAP. Ill DEVELOPMENT OF CLASS ATTRIBUTES 49
vails, among the more devout members, especially
amongst the " devout women " of other Christian
Churches. Traces of this spirit may no doubt be
found in our own Church, but they are exceptional.
The priest in England has never been allowed qua
priest to intrude into secular affairs, though in an un-
official capacity he has hitherto been socially a person
of no little importance. Church people are not either
intellectually or practically less active than are other
people amongst us. It may be said that, as they
belong usually to the better educated classes, this is
not wonderful. But quite apart from that considera
tion, and looking merely at the spirit, or what is called
the " note " of Anglican churchmanship, we do not
think it can fairly be complained that the Church
laity of the Church of England are, as a class, indif
ferent to secular interests ; a result which is due
negatively to their independence of priestly control.
Now, the Church laity are a single and homo
geneous whole, though the classes from which they
are derived, looked at from a social point of view,
may be variously distinguished. Of course, we are
aware that the form of churchmanship now most in
the ascendant is not as yet universal in the Church
of England, and that there are many earnest Church
men amongst the laity who are not High Churchmen.
Throughout, however, we have been treating of a
tendency rather than of a state of things actually
now in existence ; we have been considering what the
Church is coming to, not what at present she can
be proved to be without any exception or abatement.
Similarly, in the present case, we do not mean to
assert that there is nothing to vary the ecclesiastical
uniformity of the Church laity of the Church of Eng
land ; we, of course, know that there are large classes
of Churchmen who are opposed to the prevailing ten
dency in the Church, or who, at all events, cannot be
quoted as instances of its operation. All that we
maintain and insist upon is the growth of a spirit of
E

50 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART I
uniformity amongst a certain section of English
Churchmen who claim to give the law to the rest, and
who have to a great extent succeeded in getting this
claim recognised, as shown by the spread of their
ideas, principles, and practices amongst the Church
laity. These latter are in con.sequence becoming
more and more organised on a common basis of
High Anglican churchmanship, sympathy with which
unites them together in spite of their social differences
(which, however, being for the most part merely
differences of degree are not very serious) in one
ecclesiastical class. This ecclesiastical class is, of
course, affected by the social character of those who
compose it, whilst contrariwise it makes itself felt
socially and even politically by welding together the
upper classes of English society.
Such then is the Church laity of the Church of
England, the characteristic features of which we will
endeavour, before proceeding further, briefly to re
capitulate. In the first place, we saw that the Church
laity have latterly had impressed on them a strongly-
marked ecclesiastical type, which, whilst it has im
mensely increased their own strength, has alienated
from them many of those who were formerly Church
men and are so no longer.
Secondly, we saw that, though the Church laity
have been thus ecclesiasticised, they have not been to
any great extent clericalised, much less priest-ridden.
They have, in fact, retained the chief ecclesiastical
power in their own hands, and the anti-Romanism,
liberalism, and secular character of the Church of
England are mainly to be ascribed to this fact.
Thirdly and lastly, the Church laity form, when
taken together, one ecclesiastical class which at once
affects, and is affected by, the social character of those
whom it includes.

CHAPTER IV
RESULTS AND ANTICIPATIONS
Let us now briefly consider the strength and weak
ness of a Church constituted after the manner above
described. For it may fairly be asked at the point
we have now reached. How far is the efficiency of the
Church of England as a working machine helped or
hindered by its present internal economy .¦'
The value of the Church of England then, regarded
ecclesiastically and socially as the Church of a class,
depends on the extent to which it («) benefits the class,
with which it is associated {b) conveys its benefits
through this class to the rest of the community. As
regards the first of these tests, it cannot be doubted
that the benefit derived by those classes of society
which form together the single homogeneous ecclesi
astical class, in other words the Church laity, is a very
real one. A great part — we may perhaps say the
greater part — of the good which is done both to these
classes and by them may ultimately be traced to their
association with the Church. Similarly, though to a
less extent, the application of the second test above
mentioned exhibits the Church of England in a favour
able light. Even those whose "ears are continually
beaten withexclamations against abuses in the Church,"'
must recognise that the Church's influence tends to
prevent the tone of religion from being debased, and
^ Hooker, Dedication. E 2

52 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART I
to refine and purify the public taste. We have shown
also that there is no want of organised activity on the
part either of clergy or laity with a view to making
the Church more popular and attractive. On the
contrary, efforts in this direction have for some time
past been the most characteristic part of the Church's
work. Finally, the Church laity, in spite of their
strong tendency towards intensive class association,
are yet — as we have seen — in many respects very
liberal-minded, and keep in check the clericalism of
the clergy. Hence, whatever faults there may be in
this mode of Church government, it exercises many
good effects primarily, of course, on those classes of
society with which it is associated, but indirectly also
through these on the rest of the community.
In truth it is when it is thus regarded as the
government of a class that the Anglican mode of
Church government most surprises us by its results.
It has at all events as many good points about it as
can fairly be reckoned to the credit of any other
Church S)'stem. For if the governing class in
our Church tends to become more of a class and
therefore more exclusive, this exclusiveness is not
likely even faintly to approximate to the exclusive
ness of a clerical governing class. If again in our
Church things are " done from above," as is often com
plained, they are at least not done condescendingly
or from interested motives. In short, the Church of
England in regard to these characteristics shares
both the merits and the defects of other English
institutions which, though in form and very largely
also in substance, aristocratic, are yet remarkably free
from the limitations which are usually associated with
aristocratic government.
Of course, however, the class government of the
Church laity has its \\eak side. This latter appears
when the governing class endeavours to extend itself
and to exercise an influence over other classes. It is
then liable to fail not so much because it is the sov-
o

CHAP. IV RESULTS And Anticipations 53
ernment of a class as because it is the government of
a class such as has been described. For, in this
respect (we of course do not mean altogether) lay
government is far inferior to clerical, and the Church
of England therefore to the Church of Rome. A
clerical class — though more jealous as regards its ozvn
privileges — is, socially considered, more equalising,
since in relation to itself it places all classes of the
community on the same footing. At any rate, the
priesthood in a Church thus governed do not require the
support of any ecclesiastical class amongst the laity.
Again, a governing clerical class is not shorn of its
peculiar privileges by the Church laity, and hence is
more able to adapt itself to the condition of persons
whose backward state of development requires a
religion without compromise. Its exclusively clerical
privileges are the very means of its being able to do
this. Thus the strength of the Church of Rome at
the present time amongst the poorer classes, both ur
ban and rural, is due very largely to the following
institutions, the Mass — the priestly character of which
has never been compromised ; prayers and masses for
the dead ; the confessional ; image worship (no matter in
what sense understood, an essentially priestly device) ;
the enforced celibacy of the clergy, which prevents
them from forming social ties. Now, the Church of
England has abolished all these institutions except
the first, and even this it has divested (or until lately
had done so) of much of its priestly character. In
effecting these abolitions and modifications, the Church
laity no doubt satisfied its own sense of propriety
and brought itself more into harmony with the
scientific spirit. But it did not thereby commend
religion to the people. For it has not been found
possible by a revival of mediaevalism to awaken
amongst these latter an enthusiasm for practices and
ceremonies which, though less priestly than those
above named, were intended to serve a similar purpose.
Partly, these observances had been too long dropped

54 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART 1
to admit of being revived, but still more the Church
laity would not allow them to be revived in that
thoroughgoing priestly form to which they had owed
their original attraction. The consequence was, that
this attenuated medisevalism did not obtain general
acceptance, but was confined to that comparatively
limited portion of the community which we have
spoken of as the faithful Church laity. These latter,
no doubt, created for themselves a new ecclesiastical
environment, but with the obtuseness characteristic of
all (except clerical) class government, they did not
see that persons differently situated from themselves
required a different kind of nourishment. The line
they took, in fact, whilst, like the Roman system (to
which it was considered an approximation), it repelled
the scientific and literary classes, did not, like the
Roman system, attract the masses of the people. The
Church of Rome has made no attempt to conciliate
the scientific intelligence of the laity, and among
those classes therefore who stand aloof from all
Church-membership she has both more, and more
bitter, enemies than has the Church of England
amongst these same classes. But amongst those
classes whose difficulty as regards church-membership
arises simply from the backwardness of their moral
and material development, the Church of Rome is far
more successful than the Church of England.
But if such is the strength and such the weakness
of the Church of England, what are the chief issues as
regards which she is now especially required to put forth
her powers .'' In other words, what are the dominant
tendencies of life and thought having for their object
to revolutionise the Church's traditional character, as
above described ? And what is to be thought of the
Church's position with regard to such tendencies .'
Now, in two very different directions the Church
seems to be threatened by revolutionary tendencies
at thc present time, the respective aims of which are

CHAP. IV RESULTS AND ANTICIPATIONS 55
as follows : {a) The levelling down of the Church in
accordance with democratic, and the reorganisation
of the Church in accordance with socialistic, require
ments — an ecclesiastical s)'stem depending on popu
lar support and aiming at bringing the Church dowit
to the people by means of an appeal addressed
almost exclusively to the less educated sections
of the community. How far such a system would,
like that historically associated with the Jesuits,
exalt itself ecclesiastically, whilst posing both politi
cally and socially as " frankly democratic," we shall
not now attempt to determine. The possible in
trusion of these ulterior ecclesiastical motives is not
the point to which in this connection we desire to draw
attention. Our point is rather that there is much in
the present state of society which seems to promise
success to this policy on social and political grounds
alone. All, however, that need be said here is that — •
so far as the Church of England is concerned — this
policy is essentially a revolutionary one, a conclusion
which cannot but be admitted even by those who do
not regard it as a retrograde one.
{b) An entire reconstruction of the Church of
England, more especially as regards its fundamental
doctrines, in order to suit the requirements of
" modern thought." The supporters of this policy
are usually well disposed, and are sometimes even
warmly attached, to the Church except in respect of its
profession of theological belief In this latter respect,
they look on the Church as an effete institution, if not
as an anachronism. It is, however, only in this
negative sense that the revolutionary party here in
question has any very numerous following. For the
greater number of those who are alienated from the
Church of England on these grounds do not see their
way to make any proposals as regards the recon
struction of the Church, or, if they do see their way,
are disinclined to propose what would not have the
remotest chance of finding acceptance. Such persons

56 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART l
therefore cannot be included under the revolutionary
party here referred to, though, if their vieivs are con
sidered, they appear as not less, but usually as far
more, revolutionary than those who are so included.
The importance of both these policies is, however, due
to their connection with general ideas of larger scope
circulating outside the Church.
Such, then, are the two chief revolutionary tendencies
by which the situation with which the Church has to
deal at the present time is very largely determined.
Now the Church of England is not inclined by her
traditional character to make any very great con
cessions in either of these two directions. The
Church, however, stands in a very different position to
these two tendencies respectively. They are, in fact,
in a sense incommensurable, inasmuch as the second
of the two — which for want of a better name we must
distinguish as anti-dogmatic — is destructive as regards
the received interpretation of Christianity — (and that
not only in our own, but also in all other Christian
Churches) — whereas the first-named tendency is de
structive only as regards the existing social status
of a particular Christian Church. In this sense,
therefore, the anti-dogmatic tendency is by far the
more revolutionary and the more obnoxious to
Churchmen. On the other hand, in a narrower sense,
it is more revolutionary to level down the Church in
accordance with democratic, and to reorganise the
Church in accordance with socialistic, requirements
than it is to revolutionise the Church's theology. For
there is a certain, however insufficient, parallel to
•this latter attempt in the revolution of the English
Church which was effected by the Reformation, where
as the social character of the Church of England has
been uniform and unbroken throughout the whole
course of its history.
Yet though these two tendencies ma)' be thus dis
tinguished, we should be taking a very superficial
view, if we were to suppose that the Church of

CHAP. IV RESULTS AND ANTICIPATIONS 57
England is ever likely to be very powerfully influenced
by them separately and in isolation from each other.
Such a view obtains a certain amount of countenance
at the present time owing to the fact that not only
have the Church parties who are most representative
of these two tendencies very little mutual sympathy,
but the representatives of these same tendencies out
side the Church do not seem inclined, in England at
all" events, to co-operate together. But these facts,
though they show no doubt that in England the
two tendencies in question are at present working
apart, by no means show that they will always continue
to do so, still less that they are incapable of combi
nation. Even now on the Continent the " revolution,"
as it is called, divides itself equally under these two
forms and does not seperate between them. We may
think, as we certainly must hope, that the continental
mode of effecting this combination will never find
favour amongst ourselves. But the fact that there is
on the Continent such a combination, no matter of
what kind, is a sufficient proof that there is no essen
tial repugnance between the members combined.
Nor could there be anything more unfortunate —
except indeed that the Church should refuse to con
cern herself with either of these tendencies — than that
she should concern herself with one of them to the
exclusion of the other, or show a marked preference
for one of them as compared with the other. This
latter is a danger to which Churches are always liable,
though it does not always lie in the same direction.
In the early part of the eighteenth century, when the
Deistic controversy was at its height, the best part of
the Church's strength was absorbed in the endeavour
to do battle with the Church's enemies by arguments
addressed to the reason and intellect. The danger
then was lest the Church should sacrifice her practical
efficiency to the pursuit of intellectual aims, and the
course of events in the latter part of the eighteenth
century shows that the Church did not altogether

58 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part i
escape from this danger. At the present time, there
is a similar danger, only that it is now from the
opposite side. The Church is now sorely tempted to
prefer questions of practical organisation, together
with social and industrial questions, to questions of
speculative, scientific, and historical criticism.
There is an obvious reason, already referred to, why
this temptation makes itself felt. For no practical
changes, no " democratising " changes, however sweep
ing, can ever in the eyes of Churchmen amount to a
revolution in the same or anything like the same sense
as would be involved in a rejection or mutilation
of the " fundamentals " of Christanity. Now in all
matters, but in matters of religion most of all, the
course which is credited with the most dangerous con
sequences, if it is carried too far, suffers in comparison
with other courses which, though not less difficult to
prosecute within safe limits, are regarded as less
dangerous if pursued beyond those limits. Thus
theology stops short of the point which it might
safely reach, and which it knows that it might safely
reach as far as regards immediate results, simply from
a haunting fear of possible ultimate results ; whereas
other branches of inquiry, which do not intrinsically
admit of a further advance being made, are yet
carried further owing to there being no such appre
hension as to "what may come of it." Indeed not
only are practical questions and questions of social
and industrial reform not feared so much as are
questions of the " higher criticism," but often uncon
sciously, and sometimes even intentionally, the former
class of questions is favoured by Churchmen with a
view to the exclusion of the latter. The association of
the Oxford Movement with the " condition of the
people " question was, as we have already maintained,
partly due to this motive. It would be unjust to
say that it was wholly so. Undoubtedly, however,
the increased popularisation of the Church is to be
ascribed /<r/-//)' to the influence of fear.

CHAP. IV RESULTS AND ANTICIPATIONS 59
At the present time, however, there is, especially
on the part of the more " forward " school of the High
Church clergymen, a disinterested desire to adapt
the Church to suit the tastes of the masses. And
often the schemes which are proposed, or which are
waiting to be proposed, with a view to this
end, partake, socially and politically, i.e., of a
decidedly revolutionary character. Now, the inevit
able criticism on this whole movement must be, not that
it is not good so far as it goes, but that it does not go
far enough. By this we, of course, do not mean that
it does not go far enough in its own revolutionary
sense — as to that it would be impossible to form an
opinion except with regard to detailed pro
posals — we mean rather that the movement in the
direction of this tendency is not combined with any
movement in the direction of the other revolutionary
tendency — whether in the way of concession or of
refutation. In this sense therefore the popular
sympathies of Churchmen are not popular enough.
But this growth of clerical radicalism is not likely
seriously to engage the attention of the Anglican
laity except in so far as the social and political forces
which govern the development of England tend in the
same direction. This latter result, however, is not
only probable, but seems even now to be in course
of preparation. Not that by thus expressing ourselves
we intend to commit ourselves to a belief in the
approach, either near or remote, of Disestablish
ment and Disendowment. For whether that consum
mation remains in store for the present or for some
future generation of Churchmen, or is destined to be
indefinitely postponed, it does not seem doubtful that,
if not the constitutional, at all events the practical,
position of the Church of England will undergo a
radical transformation in the course of no such very
distant period of time. And it appears to us that this
larger movement of radicalism will be like that of the
smaller clerical movement to which we have referred

6o THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part 1
with this essential difference, that it will not be clerical,
or conceived in the interests of clericalism, or inclined
to make any reservations satisfactory to the clergy
with regard to the maintenance of the received religion.
We advisedly attribute to the new radicalism only
this indirectly negative attitude in Church matters,
because we do not believe that, in England at any
rate, it will be positively anti-dogmatic, still less anti-
religious. But the probability of an indirectly negative
attitude in Church matters on the part of the secular
powers that be appears, if not as an established fact,
at least as no very remote inference from the existing
tendencies of legislation, the utterances of politicians,
and the more reasoned conclusions of journalists and
men of letters.
Under these circumstances, especially if they
became aggravated, the Anglican Church laity
might not improbably, and not unreasonably, take a
new view of the situation, and of their duty with
regard to it. No doubt, in the description of the
Church laity given above, we have represented them
as tending of late years to increased exclusiveness as
regards their principles of church-membership, and to
an intensified isolation in matters of religion from the
laity in general. It may therefore seem incon
sistent that we should now suggest the possibility of
larger views being entertained, and of a softer mode
of behaviour being adopted, by the very same persons
whom we have previously refused to credit with any
such proclivities. But the Church laity of the Church
of England have always inclined strongly in some one
direction for the time, and have afterwards inclined
not less strongl)' in some other direction, and there is
every reason to suppose that such will again be the
case. It is the very advantage of lay government
over clerical that a Church thus governed is able to
reconsider its position, to open itself to new influences,
and to adapt itself to changed circumstances.
Now it is from the Church laity of the Church of

CHAP. IV RESULTS AND ANTICIPATIONS 6i
England that the character for moderation attaching
to the Church has proceeded. It is not a mere
arbitrary phenomenon, but is the expression of an his
torical tradition distinctive of the governing classes of
English society in their mode of behaviour towards the
Church. The attitude of these classes in maintaining
a policy of moderation has been of the most unwaver
ing consistency. Their own preferences in religious
matters have, of course, differed in each succeeding
generation — the)' have been political Churchmen,
Latitudinarian Churchmen, Evangelical Churchmen,
Puseyite Churchmen, not to speak of many other
minor differences. But they have both always main
tained their own supremacy in Church matters,
whether as against the clergy on the one hand or the
uneducated masses of the people on the other, and
they have at the same time always preserved that
character of moderation in respect of the questions at
issue between Church parties which is the distinguish
ing peculiarity of the Church of England.
In what is here said, or about to be said, we are not
venturing on any prediction of coming events, but are
merely stating our belief as to the probable outcome
of existing tendencies.
In the first place, then, we believe that what will
more and more engage the most serious attention of
the Anglican Church laity will be the insufficiency
of the provision made for the maintenance and public
recognition of the received religion. The tone of
modern society and of modern legislation on this
subject is partly neutral but almost necessarily tends
to be, or (which for our present purpose is much the
same thing) to seem to be, as we have already
remarked, at all events indirectly, negative. The
average thoughtful Churchman — and it is such an one
whom in the succeeding remarks we have chiefly in
view — will not indeed regard this state of things with
that indignation, nor will he exhibit towards it that
resentment, which it excites in the minds of those

62 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART I
whose attachment to the Church is less under the
control of reason and intelligence. He will see that
under thc present conditions of civilisation it is in part
natural and inevitable, in part also he will recognise
that it may have ultimately a healthy and beneficial
influence. Still, he will be profoundly dissatisfied
with this state of things. Its continuance, however,
will not suggest to him the desirability of opposition
and antagonism — which he knows to be futile — so
much as of seeking to provide a remedy against it by
self-originated action on the part of the Church. It
will appear to him that, as the Church cannot have
public authority in the State and in society on her side,
she must make special efforts of her own in order to
supply the deficiency. The Church must try new
expedients, must seek out new opportunities, if she is
to become influential, or even if she is to retain for the
form of faith which she professes its present influence.
The perception of these facts will then cause, and
indeed is now causing, the more far-seeing amongst
the Church laity to examine not only more diligently,
but also more sympatheticall)', than they have yet done
into the conditions on which the Church may hope to
obtain the support of different classes of Englishmen
hitherto alienated from her, either wholly or to a great
extent. Of course, it is not intended to suggest that
the laity will undertake this inquiry independently of
the clergy. The latter will bear a chief, perhaps the
chief, part in it, only they will have the laity at
their back and will be animated by the broader
opinion of the laity in the prosecution of their efforts.
And this makes all the difference. For the clergy,
if left alone, either have "no policy except that of
simple resistance to the secularising forces ofthe age,
or else, if they have any other policy, it excludes the
religious question and restricts itself to the field of social
and political reform often verging upon revolution.
The laity, then, associated with the clergy, will ex
amine into the possibility of recommending to English-

CHAP, IV RESULTS AND ANTICIPATIONS 63
men the religion of their forefathers and the Church
of their forefathers on acceptable grounds.
Now the Church laity, though not belonging neces
sarily or even chiefly to the aristocratic classes, do
belong, at all events chiefly, to the well-to-do classes.
But there are many influences now at work tending
to bring these latter classes into closer sympathy not
only with the poorer and less educated classes, but
also with the growing intelligence of the country from
whatsoever quarter emanating. The Church laity,
therefore, besides their interest in the religious ques
tion, are becoming more and more interested in social
questions. At the same time, as their candid friend
Mr. Gore is fond of informing them, their concern
with the religious movement of the nineteenth century
has been confined hitherto chiefly to its artistic and
aesthetical side, or, at any rate, if it has led them
generously to assist other classes, has not led them
to mix freely in personal contact with the members of
such classes. But many of the laity, and in some
cases not the least strong Churchmen amongst them,
are now beginning to see things in a different light,
and though in matters of religion they at present share
the opinion of the clergy that what is good enough for
themselves is good enough, even if it is not too good,
for other people, there is every reason to hope that on
this as on other questions their minds may undergo a
change. The first of such changes which, though the time is
not yet fully ripe for it, has already begun to operate,
will in our judgment be the following. It will be seen
that though the efforts of the modern High Churchism,
new-Anglicanism, or whatever else it may be styled,
have in many ways been highly successful — though
working-class populations have in some cases been
touched and awakened by them — though in some other
cases the self-sacrificing devotion of Churchmen of this
type has aroused a positive enthusiasm — the Church of
England has not been and cannot be by these

64 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part r
agencies transformed into a popular Church in any
comprehensive sense, cannot thus take hold of the
masses of the English people, and by so doing
establish its claim to be regarded as a national
institution. In the next place, it will be seen that the way to the
solution of the religious question lies through the
solution of the social question, and that, short of the
solution of either question, the point to be aimed at is
the approximate bridging over of the gulf which
divides classes in order that they " may with one
mind and one mouth glorify God, even (or "as" — /ca/)
the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ." ^ For what is
wanted is a more thorough blending than exists at
present of the authoritative and the popular elements
in the Church's composition. Individual efforts, in the
absence of a Church atmosphere breathed in common
by different classes, are foredoomed to failure. The
results of such efforts may in some cases be such as
will be ultimately accepted. But at present they are
either the expression of a cultivated sentiment which
is above the "masses," or else they are the outcome of
the most vulgar and blatant religious radicalism. The
thoughtful Churchman will look for the fusion of the
classes of society rather than for any union of Church
parties to produce better results. The influence of
authority will by this means regain its old strength,
but it will be a rational authority and one depending
on popular support. By this, of course, is not meant
that the truth itself as regards the religious question
depends on the relation subsisting between the classes
of society, but rather that the Church would be placed
in such a much better position for the determination
of the religious question by an improved disposition
of the classes of society, as that her solution of this
same question would thereby be affected.
How this would be so cannot be here explained
except so far as to suggest that the belief of such
' Romans xv. 6.

CHAP. IV RESULTS AND ANTICIPATIONS 65
Churchmen as are here referred to is, that the theo
logical questions which most demand solution would
by this means gradually work themselves out without
any such sudden and abrupt transition from the old
faith to the new being required as is by many antici
pated. What bars the way to such a result at present
is the wide, though diminishing, gulf which separates
the cultivated and educated classes — who still form
the great bulk of the Church laity — from the masses
of the people. Hence, it is of the very essence of any
advance being made in this direction that there should
be a gradual levelling down and levelling up of the
Church, and that these two processes should be not
only simultaneous but also reciprocal.
But against this mode of solution, it may be urged
that at best it would result only in a compromise and
in the avoidance of extremes. It would in fact be a
"transaction" — so the objection might run — similar
to that in which the very same Church laity [i.e., the
governing classes of English society) were concerned,
when they effected what is known as the Reformation
settlement. But a Church, though it may enjoy many
other advantages by the avoidance of extremes, must
to a certain extent at any rate forfeit its popular
character by that very reason.

" The masses require either an intuitional religion, such as is
provided by the grosser forms of Dissent in Great Britain, or a
ceremonial of drill and parade, such as the Latin and Greek
Churches offer to their subject populations. The apathetic
attitude of the labouring class is no nineteenth century paraly
sis  It has been thus from the beginning. The
most recent historian of the English Church is aware of this
when he says :— ' To the strong conservative element in the
English Reformation we owe the sad but undeniable fact, that
the uneducated classes have never heartily embraced and
lovingly cherished the mild and temperate spirituahty of the
Established Church. They unlearnt the extravagance of the
Roman superstition only to throw themselves readily into the
arms of the scarcely less unreasonable Puritans ; and under
one name or another, in varying forms but similar spirit there
F

66 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part l
has existed from the days of the Reformers to our own a popu
lar antagonistic feeling to the Church of the Reformation.'"'
It may be contended, therefore, that as then the
Church of England received a non-popular character
on account of that avoidance of extremes which is of
the essence of the English Reformation, so no-w any
solution brought about by the Anglican Church laity
would be equally of the nature of a compromise, and
hence would be equally of a non-popular character,
and therefore equally unsatisfactory.
Now, we have already admitted this character of
compromise as attaching not only to the Church
of the Reformation but to the Church of England
throughout its whole subsequent course. We
have admitted too how much the Church suffers
because she has no single and simple tendency which
the masses can appreciate as her essential character
istic. She is not like the Church of Rome -with its
confessional, its absolution, its masses for the dead.
She is not like Methodism with its class meetings, its
" experiences," its assurance of salvation.
Nor do we den)' that the Church of England must
always to a certain extent be of this character. Why
indeed should we care to deny this .'' We desire no
doubt — no one more so — that the Church of England
should become a popular Church. But this is not all
we desire for the Church. No success in the popu
larising direction is worthy of the name if it involves
the sacrifice to a great extent of the Church's per
manently characteristic excellences, its reasonable
ness, its moderation, its comprehensiveness, its intel
lectual sympath)', its reputation for learning. But it
was through the compromise above spoken of that
the Church became possessed, or at least became
strengtliened in the possession, of these ver)- same
qualities. Nor must it be forgotten that it is easy
' Pattison, Essays, vol. ii. pp. 267, 268. Thc quotation is
from Perry, History of thc Church of England, vol. i. p. 15.

CHAP. IV RESULTS AND ANTICIPATIONS 67
for the Church to lose her present advantages with
out obtaining those which are desired on her behalf
instead. This applies not only to attempts at Chui ch
Reform — in the sense in which this latter is ordi
narily understood — but to all that feverish restlessness
which displays itself in the origination, or more fre
quently in theadoption from outside sources,ofmethods
and experiments intended to make the Church popular.
The important point, however, is that whatever
we may think on this subject, and whatever may
be our desires with regard to it, that character for
compromise which has hitherto belonged to the
Church of England is very unlikely altogether to
cease to belong to it. The real truth is, that com
promise is now a " note " of Anglicanism, whereas
in the early days of the Post-Reformation Church
it was but the form assumed by a political experi
ment. We see how much this is so from the fact that
the very reaction against the compromise of the
Reformers has in our own days itself assumed the
form of a compromise, though of course of an entirely
different kind. Of this latter some account has been
given above in what has been said as regards the
invasive policy of the High Church Party. That
policy, it is true, appeared to us in the light not of a
compromise, but of a bid for supremacy disguising
itself under the form of compromise ; and to this
description of the High Church Party — so far as
regards its relations with other parties — we adhere.
In another sense, however, the party now dominant
in the Church did aim at effecting a compromise,
and that was as regards its mode of recommending
Anglicanism to the acceptance of the masses. In
this respect its programme was an eclectic one —
though no appearance of incongruity, but rather a
most attractive synthesis, was presented to the popu
lar imagination. The attempt showed considerable
ingenuity ; it showed also not a little disengagement
from prejudice on the part of a party which was of
F 2

68 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART I
all things averse from compromise and which hated
the English Reformation not least of all on account
of its compromising character. But this reference
is only introduced in the present connection in
order to show that compromise is so much an
inherited tradition of the English Church that even
when Churchmen are most trying to avoid it, they
do but set up another compromise in the place of
the one they depose.
The enlightened Church laity, therefore, who are
hoping to vindicate for the Church of England a
new character by an amalgamation of class sym
pathies, will not be frightened when they are told
that their efforts as regards religion can only result
in a compromise. They will recognise that to a
certain extent this must be so, inasmuch as institu
tions cannot unmake themselves and reverse all their
previous traditions. They will recognise not less that
it ought to be so, if the Church's distinctive excel
lences arc to be retained.
Nevertheless there is small reason for this reproach
so far as regards its applicability to the ideal of
ecclesiastical policy indicated in the above remarks.
No doubt, if everything is a compromise and there
fore non-popular which does not accommodate itself
to the late Rector of Lincoln's cynical estimate of
popular religion as being either gross vulgarity or
else mere mechanical formality, then our Church
man's ideal — which falls under neither of these two
heads — is a compromise, and is so far non-popular.
But if we altogether decline to admit this low view
of the religious capabilities of the " masses " we stand
just where we did before as regards that view. Nor
need we be a whit more discouraged by the example
of the Reformation settlement. For the only point
in common between this latter and thc settlement
which — as we believe — thc Churchman of the future
will aim at bringing about is the prominent position
in both cases of the Church laity. But even as regards

CHAP. IV RESULTS AND ANTICIPATIONS 69
this point the difference is far more striking than the
likeness. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries
the Church laity was co-extensive with the whole
English nation, whereas the very significance of the
position of the Church laity now arises from the fact
that we have to distinguish between the Church laity
and the laity in general.^ Again, the Church laity
then made its power felt by means .of parliamentary
legislation, so much so that the political character of
the English Reformation is one of the most familiar
of historical axioms. Nowadays, on the other hand,
the Church effects little by means of Parliamentary
legislation, and seems likely to effect less.
But the greatest difference has reference to the
moral and social influences brought to bear on the
Church laity in the two cases respectively. It is not
necessary to attempt to describe what these influences
were three hundred years ago. That, however, which
constitutes the main difference between the Church
now and then is— it need scarcely be said — the demo
cratic character of modern society and the consequent
leavening of all classes in the present age by the
democratic spirit.
Now, the influence of democracy — as we have
already observed — has not, so far at any rate, tended
' If it should seem that this difference is rather in favour of
the earlier settlement being presumably the more satisfactory
as being the more national, this is only on account of the delu
sive appearance of the English Reformation which was not,
except in its first beginnings, a national movement at all.
The following is a good short description of the English Refor
mation under this aspect ; — "' Nationalsache konnte sie nicht
werden. Trotz des soliden Grundes, welcher in England zu
einem freien nationalen Leben gelegt war, waren die inneren
Gegensatze zwishen dem Germanischen und Romanischen
Elemente keinesweges iiberwunden, sondern das Volk stand
noch unter der Feudal-Verfassung eines machtigen Adels.
Fussend auf humanistischer Bildung fiihrten die hohern Stande
auch eine Kirchenverbesserung ein, so dass England das Schau-
spiel einer doppelten Reformation darbietet." — Holzhausen,
!Der Protestantismus, Band ii. S. 836, 837.

70 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part i
to universalism, nor has it resulted, except super
ficially, in the levelling down of the distinctions of
rank, wealth, and intellect. Its net result so far seems
to have been to develop the principles of corporate
union — first, between men of the same class, next,
between different classes in their relation to each
other. The Church of the Oxford Movement in its
expanded form has hitherto shown the effects of the
democratic infiuence chiefly by occupying itself with
the first part of this programme, viz., the principles
of corporate union between men of the same class.
But it is now slowly yet surely feeling its way to the
adoption of the second part — the principles of corporate
union between different clRsses. Under the first head,
it has worked out a strong particularist tendency
rather than an idea capable of universal application.
On the basis of this tendency, it has supplied to the
upper classes of English society a worthier principle
of association than any by which they were united
before, and it has evinced a warm disposition to
include also the members of other classes by be
friending and assisting them to an extent previously
unknown in this or any other countr)'. The second
part of the programme is, however, in the main to
follow. Meantime let us be thankful for such signs as are
forthcoming of its commencement. Amongst these
one of the most hopeful — as we have already inti
mated — is the fact that the latter day Church has
always represented her secular activity as the out
come of her churchmanship. She may not have
demonstrated the connection. The word " Church "
ma)' be applied to the undertakings in question as a
mere caput morttmm, from which no new consequences
are derived. Still, the fact remains that, though under
standing veiy little of what is meant in the deeper
sense by church-membership in reference to the
conduct of life, the Church of England has not only
never disowned the relationship, but has gloried in it

CH.4P. IV RESULTS AND ANTICIPATIONS 71
and has accentuated its importance. This indeed is
about as far as our Church has as yet arrived towards
bringing theology and life together. As far as it goes,
however, it is not to be despised. At all events it is
a sufficient proof that the Church is not prepared to
make herself too cheap and to buy popularity at all
costs. And, on the other hand, it is not less a hopeful sign
of the times that the need of a religious basis for the
organisation of charitable and philanthropic agencies
and social undertakings of all kinds should be now
increasingly felt by many persons who formerly were
strong advocates of an exclusively secular system.
It is not suggested that the particular religious
influence which such persons in most cases desiderate
is that of the Church of England, though even in this
more limited sense there can be no doubt that there
is an improvement, and that every year there is more
demand for the good offices of the Church, and that in
the most unlooked-for quarters. The ground of hope
which we cherish as regards the future of the Church
of England is derived rather from the observation of
a growing preference for the organisation of society
on religious principles, whether as professed by
Churchmen, Dissenters, Salvationists, or undenomina-
tionalists. It may not be — and it is most unlikely
that it will be — the Church's present narrow profession
of such principles which will ultimately find favour
with the great masses of the English people. But it
is none the less an encouragement to those who look
forward to the prevalence of a more enlightened
churchmanship, that the way should be in process of
being made more easy for such a result hy a pre
liminary preparation for it in the shape of an enhanced
sense of the importance of religion in human affairs.
The point, however, which we desire to establish is,
that the Church laity cannot but be influenced by its
activity in these various directions, cannot be the
same after it as it was before, cannot resemble in its

72 TLIE CHURCH OF ENGLAND parti
exclusiveness and indifference to popular interests the
laity of those old days of class-government spoken of
above. And our further point is, that this democratic
spirit, this sense of the solidarity of class interests,
will not merely enter more and more into every social
project of the Church laity, but, as the result of this,
will enter more and more into the determination of
the forms of religion regarded b)' the Church laity
as the most acceptable, not merely to itself but to the
community as a whole. It is very unlikely that a
determination of religion arrived at in this way will
be of the nature of a compromise in any undesirable
sense. It is rather to be expected that it will be a
simple and faithful reflection of the mind of a united
nation. We have been looking far ahead. The immediate
outlook of course stops far short of this. Meantime,
in order for this view to seem even plausible, it is
desirable before concluding to say a few words as
regards what, to many, will probably seem the chief
crux, viz., the difficulty, not so much of popularising
the English Church as of doing so without thc
sacrifice of its association with learning, and of the
manifold other attractions by which it is endeared to
the educated and cultivated classes. With regard to
this question, we would remark that it is a question
which concerns not only the future of our Church, but
oiall our institutions and inherited possessions. Now
it is not a fiction but a sober truth, that the experience
of the last few years has been full of encouragement
on this point, and that even the most timid have felt
very much reassured as regards the appreciativeness
of thc Demos. This has been so at least wherever
(but not otherwise) the Demos has been brought into
contact with persons at once of superior intelligence
and of genuine s)'mpathy. But what enables us to
hope for further improvement in this direction is not
only the receptivity ofthe comparatively uneducated ;
it is also the immense improvement in the means

CHAP. IV RESULTS AND ANTICIPATIONS 73
placed at the disposal of the educated classes for the
purpose of enlightening the ignorant and elevating
the outcast and poor. There never was a time when
there was so much sound and useful and easily
accessible knowledge disseminated abroad, or when
relief agencies for the ills of suffering humanity were
better devised or more carefully administered.
We will conclude with one and only one caution.
The aim is not to change the character of the Church
of England, but to adapt it to new conditions. Those
who forget what they have to preserve are as far from
the truth as those who are unwilling to try new
remedies. Constitutional and administrative reforms
are often advocated in entire forgetfulness that the
Church of England has a character of her own as the
result of her past history. The aim of all true Church
reform is that this character may be developed and
perfected, not that it may be obliterated and de
stroyed. The measures of reform adopted may be
ever so radical, but they must at least take account of
the limitations imposed on the Church by her in
herited position, and they must not sacrifice beyond a
certain point the very real advantages of that position
to the pursuit of other more remote advantages, even
though the latter may in themselves be not less
desirable.

PART II

CHURCH AND DISSENT
" In evils that cannot be removed without the manifest
danger of greater to succeed in their rooms, wisdom, of neces
sity, must give place to necessity. All it can do in those cases
is to devise how that which must be endured maybe mitigated,
and the inconveniences thereof countervailed as near as may
be ; that when the best things are not possible, the best may
be made of those that are." — Hoo^tx, Ecclesiastical Polity, Bk.
v., ch. ix., sect. i.

CHAPTER I
THE RECENT HISTORY OF DISSENT
English Nonconformity,' however familiar as a
fact, has been very little investigated and is very
imperfectly understood. This is so, at all events, as
regards its recent development and present state. No
doubt under its more historical aspects, especially as
regards the struggles of Nonconformists for religious
liberty, and as regards the earlier phases of the
Methodist movement, it has received a considerable
amount of attention. But the important changes
which Dissent has undergone during the present
century have been either passed over, or have been
discussed in an unsatisfactory manner.
And even as regards what occurred previously, far
too much weight is usually attached to the considera
tion that Dissent from the Anglican Communion
might have been averted by less narrowness on the
part of Churchmen and by more reasonableness on
the part of Nonconformists. Of course, it might. If
men were better than they are, all sorts of good
results might have happened which have not happened.
The question, however, is whether religious dissent
' Where the point of the distinction between Dissent and
Nonconformity is not in question, the two terms are used ii-i
the following pages interchangeably. The distinction, itself,
however, is for practical purposes obsolete.

78 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part il
is not the necessary accompaniment of religious
liberty, and whether, if the concession of this latter
both could not and ought not to have been any
longer delayed, differences of opinion leading not
merely to dissension but also to " dissent " were not
inevitable. It does not follow from this that every
thing which calls itself " Dissent " was inevitable.
What we have to do rather is, to distinguish the Dissent
which is real and permanent from that which is due
to accidental causes, and another fault we have to
find with the generality of writers on this subject is
that they do not draw this distinction.
In conducting the present discussion, it is desired
to bear in mind the following three simple and yet
often neglected cautions.
In the first place, to be careful to regard Dissent as
a religous phenomenon, and not merely as a thing
capable of being explained by reference to social
causes. It is no doubt true that social considerations
do affect the position of Dissent more or less in all
cases, whilst in some they are almost sufficient to
account for its existence. Cases of the latter kind
are, however, the exception. As a rule, these social
considerations are to be treated as qualifying those
which arise out of the religious aspects of Dissent, and
not vice versa.
Secondly, to abstain from the imputation of low
and unworthy motives and to avoid partisanship,
whether on behalf of Church or Dissent. There is
much in the conduct of Dissenters, as there is likewise
in that of Churchmen, which we cannot admire ; but
nothing is gained by calling attention to examples of
such conduct. Dissent is not such an objectionable
phenomenon as is supposed by some Churchmen, nor
so highly to be admired as is supposed by some Non
conformists. In point of fact, as the subsequent
inquiry will show, Church and Dissent have been
much more subject to common influences, and much
less determined by the characteristics peculiar to each,

CHAP. I THE RECENT HISTORY OF DISSENT 79
than is commonly admitted by the partisans of either
side. Thirdly, to attach importance not so much to the
Nonconformist bodies considered separately, as rather
to the great dividing lines which run through them all
in common. In any treatment of this subject, it should
be remembered that religious phenomena in the
present age require to some extent to be grouped
afresh, instead of being confined within the denomi
national limits traditionally assigned to them.
What then is the present condition of English
Nonconformity .' What are its chief distinguishing
features and tendencies .' and how is its disposition
towards the Church of England thus affected ?
Dissent from the Church of England is an old
story, the history of which we do not now feel
ourselves called on to retrace. That history — except
in the case of the Methodists —is interesting previous
to the present century chiefly for POLITICAL reasons.
In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the
Independents and Baptists — though between them
they produced many heroes and some saints — are yet
known to us as organisations rather in connection
with the struggle for religious liberty than in connec
tion with religion. Soon after the beginning of the
present century, however, the Nonconformist societies
showed an increase of activity as RELIGIOUS agencies.'
'^ A D. 1800. " Nearly all classes of Dissenters were now
rapidly increasing in number." (Skeats, History of the Free
Churches of England, p. 529.) Speaking of the Established
Church at this date, the same not wholly unbiassed writer says
that, "with the exception of the Evangelical section — now
numbering perhaps nearly a thousand ministers — it is not an
exaggeration to say that personal religion and a personal sense
of duty were almost unknown amongst them." (Ibid. p. 527.)
Dr. Stoughton, whilst admitting the low state to which the
Church had sunk at the beginning of the century, adds with his
usual candour, " Nor can it be said that the Establishment alone
was responsible  There was much neglect on the part

8o THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART ll
But it was not until after the year 1830, i.e., at about
the beginning of the Oxford Movement and the new
era of mechanical invention and political enfranchise
ment, that the Dissenters — more especially the Con
gregationalists ancl the Baptists — began to become
really considerable in numbers and to acquire a wide
spread influence.
This new movement of Dissent differed from the
previous Methodist movement in being very little, if
at all, due to the spiritual apathy of the Church of
England. That Church was in fact herself engaged
in taking up a new position at the same time. Un
doubtedly, however, the tardy awakenment of the
National Church to the PRACTICAL wants of the time
was a source of strength to the Dissenters. Or
rather, we should say, that as the Church addressed
herself to meet one set of wants and the Dissenters
another, the IMMEDIATE advantage lay on the side of
those who aimed at satisfying the more immediate
wants. Now, the wants most felt were those which
the Dissenters were the first in the field to satisfy, e.g.,
ofthe old Dissent." On the other hand, after 1830, there was
a more real revival, which is thus sketched by Dr. Stoughton.
" Taking a broad glance at the ' three denominations,' it must
be acknowledged that increasing energy at the time I am speak
ing of more or less marked each of them. They rose to higher
resolves, to nobler achievements. The passing of Parliament
ary and Municipal Reform Bills caused an increase of political
influence amongst Dissenters. In large towns successful mer
chants and tradesmen came to the front. If old Noncon
formist families declined or expired in some districts, especially
the rural ones, new families arose, enriched by improved manu
factures and more enterprising commerce. The Corn Law
agitation brought increased social power to Dissenters in some
places ; spiritual influences already described or hereafter to
be pointed out were far more mighty factors in the happy
change. The common result was an amount of liberality and
effort in the support of missions, in the building of chapels, and
in the employment of agencies, public and private, which would
have astonished immeasurably the representation of the old
Dissent." — Religion in England, vol. ii. p. 152.

CHAP. 1 THE RECENT HISTORY OF DISSENT 8i
more ministers of religion, more places of worship,
and a more popular and congregational FORM of
worship. It is not intended to deny that the Church
of England had made and was then making efforts to
satisfy these -wants — more especially in the matter of
church building. But little that was done seems
to have been of a kind calculated to popularise the
Church, which was what was wanted. The immensely
greater part of the Church's activity in this latter
direction was not anterior, but subsequent, to the
period of Dr. Hook's incumbency at Leeds (1837 —
1859). No doubt in more recent times the Church of
England has done her best to supply the desiderata
above mentioned. But the class of questions with
which she occupied herself at the beginning of the
Oxford Movement was altogether different. For that
movement, in its inception, was chiefly absorbed in
the endeavour to do battle against the rationalism
and infidelity of the age — was in fact one of many
contemporary forms of reaction against the tendencies
of the French Revolution.
It may no doubt be contended that the Church has
in the long run profited by making it her first
business to elaborate afresh her doctrinal and
ecclesiastical position. Nor can the necessity and
opportuneness of SOME such attempt — whatever may
be thought of the particular one initiated — be denied.
But the Dissenters, whose aims at the time of which
we are speaking were essentially practical, un
questionably achieved a considerable immediate
success, and that not least of all because the new
forces in the Church tended for the time in a different
direction. Dissent was, indeed, helped in this way,
not only negatively and indirectly, but also positively,
through the supply of a weapon afforded to it to be
used against the Church of England in the form of a
protest against Romanism. For whatever may be
thought about the Oxford or Tractarian Movement
now, it was, undoubtedly, then popularly regarded as
c

82 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part ll
intended to reunite the Church of England with the
Church of Rome.
The Dissent which we have now under review was
strictly orthodox. As to the particular forms of
orthodoxy there was often considerable controversy,
but there was no party to any such controversy who
would not have resented the imputation of anything
like ?^«orthodoxy, much less of unbelief This may
seem surprising, not only when we consider the
wholesale uprooting of old ideas which was in
progress during the same epoch on the Continent,
but also, and perhaps still more, when we reflect that
the Dissent of the early part of the Victorian era was
to all intents and purposes a new phenomenon. For
though nominally capable of being affiliated to
seventeenth century Puritanism and eighteenth
century Sectarianism, it had in reality little depend
ence on historical associations and was essentially
an outgrowth of contemporary civilisation. No
doubt the Dissenters of this period were sincerely
evangelical, but it was the evangelicalism of a class
which had come into existence at a most critical
stage of industrial development, and which was
intensely conscious both of its own grievances and of
its own recently acquired power to redress them.
From this, coupled with the fact that the age was — as
has been already remarked — a revolutionary one, it
might have been expected that the Dissenters in
question would have made some changes in the
current orthodoxy.
That this did not happen, was due amongst other
causes to the essentially conservative proclivities of
the English middle classes at this epoch. For in
England, though in a less degree than in some other
countries, there was amongst the middle classes
a dominant prepossession of danger arising from the
artisan class and from the proletariat, and this appre
hension extended not merely to such ideas as afterwards
found expression in the Chartist Movement, but

CHAP. I THE RECENT HISTORY OF DISSENT 83
included also the possibility of a removal of the old
religious landmarks and a consequent destruction of
the whole fabric of society. This was simply a form
of terrorism haunting the middle classes of society at
that time, and must not be regarded as showing any
insight into the negative and critical tendencies of
modern thought. Yet it is interesting to note as an
illustration of that common ground existing between
Church and Dissent which has been already insisted
upon, that in the Dissent not less than in the
Churchmanship of this period there was a strong
conservative element, however different in the two
cases may have been the form which it assumed
and the consequences in which it issued.
Though, however, during the period of which we
are now speaking there was no question amongst
Nonconformists as regards the first principles of
religious belief, there was no lack of controversy on
other subjects. The fiercest of such disputes which
took place during the second quarter of the present
century were those which arose amongst the Method
ists, the result being the formation of certain new
sects hereafter to be noticed. But the older Non
conformist societies were likewise frequently agitated
by internal strifes and dissensions, though in their
case this did not lead to ecclesiastical separation.
In the former case, as might be expected from the
fact that the Methodists were of comparatively recent
origin, the controversies engendered had reference for
the most part to questions of Church discipline, e.g.,
as regards synodical action, the position relatively to
each other of ministers and laymen, and other like
questions. On the other hand, the controversies in
the second case were chiefly theological, and arose
generally out of attempts made by members of the
rising generation to adjust the traditional Calvinism
to more modern ways of thinking. In neither case
do the controversies in question seem to have checked
the spread of the Dissenting movement, starting
(; 2

84 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART ll
from 1830. That movement continued to make
progress on substantially the same lines for the next
twenty )'ears, and indeed it was not for a considerably
longer time that the new influences by which it was
ultimately modified, made themselves felt so as to be
clearly discerned.
These new influences — the operation of which on
thc Nonconformist bodies it will be our next duty to
consider — are characterized by Dr. Stoughton as
follows : — " A change wide and deep came over the
domain of religious thought during the middle of this
century. It was a change different from any one
before. It presented phenomena of a startling kind,
breaking down old hedges and defacing old landmarks,
so that in walking the theological round we hardly
know where we are." '
Dr. Stoughton does not of course mean that the
dissenting bodies were to any great extent affected
by the changes here referred to so early as the year
1850. For at that date the new tendencies of which
he speaks had scarcely begun to operate even in the
quarters most sensitive to the influences of modern
thought. What he means is, that the ideas which
have since made themselves felt so widely and so
deeply, had in the year 1850 originated.
How then has Dissent changed its character in
times more recent than those described ? and what
are the causes which have produced this change ?
We will endeavour to answer these questions by
taking Dissent such as it has come to be in these
latter days — dating from i860 — or at all events from
somewhere in the decade i860- 1870 — and comparing
it with Dissent, such as it had been previously. For
Dissent in recent times differs from the .older Dissent
not less than the full blown Anglo-Catholic Church of
to-day differs from the Church of England a half cen
tury ago. The more, in fact, we look into the matter
' Religion in England, Vol. ii. p. 436.

CHAP. I THE RECENT HISTORY OF DISSENT 85
the more we shall recognise the truth of Principal
lulloch's remark made in his last published work.
" With the year i860, at the latest, a series of new lines
of religious thought set in."
In order to understand this in reference to our
present subject, l-2t us compare the dissensions
within Dissent which occurred previously to i860 with
the difficulties in the way of Dissent which have
occurred since. Until, then, within the last twenty-five
or thirty years ago, in cases of dissent arising amongst
Dissenters, the dissentient minority either became
reconciled with its opponents — if not completely, at
all events sufficiently to secure a modus vivendi such
as the Congregationalist principle easily lent itself to —
or else established itself on a new denominational
basis, though without changing, except in matters of
mere detail, either its religious profession or its ecclesi
astical practice. Instances of this latter kind are
amongst the Scotch Presbyterians, the Church of the
Secession (1733), and the Church of the Disruption
(1843);^ amongst the Methodists, all that host of
secessions which occurred between the year 1797,
when the " Methodist New Connection " first detached
itself from the older society, and the year 1 849, when
the " Wesleyan Reform Association " (afterwards
united with the Wesleyan Association into one body
called " the United Free Church Methodists ")
separated itself on a question of Church discipline.
Instances of the former, or non-secessionist, kind are
furnished by the internal dissensions which have taken
place at various times amongst the Independents
and Baptists. The Baptists, it is true, in the seven
teenth and eighteenth centuries manifested strong
SECESSIONIST tendencies (General and Particular
Baptists, Anabaptists, Seventh Day Baptists, Scotch
' Neither the "Secession" nor the " Disruption'' are cases
of " Dissent arising amongst Dissenters," but rather of Dissent
from an Established Church. None tlie less, however, they
serve to illustrate the Secessionist form of Dissent, which is the
point here in question.

86 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART II
Baptists, and the " New General Baptist Association ")
which to some extent have permanently continued,
and therefore it might seem more natural to refer
them to the FIRST of the two classes above distin
guished. But, as against this, it must be remembered
that these Baptist divisions have for the most part
disappeared, indeed, except as regards the General '
and Particular Baptists (the difference between whom
was really at the bottom of the smaller controversy
as to open and restricted communion in the famous
Norwich case, i860) we may say almost wholly so.
What Dr. Stoughton says of the Baptists during the
earlier part ofthe century (1800-1830) has probably
remained true of them more or less since, and quite
justifies us, therefore, in including them in the class of
non-Secessionist communions : —
"There is more unity in Baptist history than in the
history of Independents during the early part of the century.
Baptists have stronger sympathies with each other, for their
denominational zeal rallied round one distinct institute the
name of which ever shone on their banners. They for the
most part co-operated more intimately, and with less division of
organisation and action, perhaps with a greater amount of esprit
de corps J moreover, to any one writing their history at the period
they supply links of connection in three controversies which they
carried on without destroying denominational unity. The
Hyper-Calvinistic Controversy, the Communion Controversy,
and the Serampore Controversy, were so many family dis
cussions." If this be so, the common idea, adopted by Mr.
Curteis in his Bampton Lectures, ^ that the Baptists are
remarkable for their tendency to sectarian subdivision,
must be incorrect.
Similarly, amongst the Independents there was
much dissension, but not much " dissent." A great
part, indeed, of the lives of some of the most eminent
' /.£'., General Baptists of the New Connection. General
B.iptists (Unitarian) have now sunk lo extremely small propor
tions, besides that their connection with other Baptists is
scarcely more than nominal.
2 Bawpton Lectures, pp. 227-228.

CHAP. I THE RECENT HISTORY OF DISSENT 87
Independent ministers of the generation now
just passing away was spent in endeavouring to
emancipate their congregations from the burdens
of an antiquated Calvinism, and in the process of
making this endeavour, not a few of them were
regarded by their co-religionists as renegades and
apostates from the true faith. Such rrien succeeded
in many cases, not only in dispelling this latter idea,
but also in bringing round their congregations to their
own point of view, and if the outside public were
acquainted with the history of these dissensions,
they would probably admit that as much bitterness
and mutual antagonism were often provoked by them
as by those controversies which in the case of other
religious denominations led to actual secession.
Now, these cases of difference and division —
whether leading to denominational schism or other
wise — are too often made the subject of merely
superficial reflections on the " dissidence of dissent "
which they are supposed to illustrate. But consider
ing all the circumstances under which these sectarian
dissensions, divisions, and subdivisions, have taken
place, and the disadvantages through want of edu
cation and other causes under which the parties
concerned have laboured, we ought not to be more
surprised at the multiplication of differences between
the various sections of religious denominations than
at their co-existence within the same communion and
their mutual co-operation, which latter has been much
more frequent than is commonly believed.
This question is not, however, that with which we
are now concerned. OUR point is, that whereas until
within twenty-five or thirty years ago the inclination
of Dissent was towards ecclesiastical differentiation
accompanied by a sufficient amount of INTEGRATION to
prevent thc sectional divisions in each case from
falling asunder — i.e., enough unity to prevent religious
separation, but not enough to prevent aggravated
internal dissensions in some cases and denominational

88 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part 1 1
schism in others — this tendency, though during the
last twenty-five or thirty years it has not cea.sed to
operate, has not operated to anything like the same
extent that it did formerly. During this more recent
period, the situation may be summarised by saying
that neither the differentiation nor the integration
have made much appreciable progress.
Let us examine the two parts of this statement
separately. I. As regards the differentiation. It does not seem
to us too much to say that in Great Britain (in
America it is otherwise) sects have not multiplied
their divisions to any considerable extent during the
last quarter of a century. The most marked feature
of orthodox British Christianity in recent times is
also the surest indication of a desire to quicken what
is dead in existing sectarian formations, rather than
to increase their number. We refer, of course, to
•revivalism, whether home-grown or imported. In
every sect and denomination this new influence has
made itself felt under some form or other, and wher
ever this phenomenon has appeared, it has shown itself
indifferent to sectarian rivalries. Again, in our own
days, many of the smaller religious denominations, —
notably the Quakers, Unitarians,' Irvingites — are fast
on the decline. The Plymouth Brethren, who prob
ably are gaining ground, form an exception only
because their programme is professedly unsectarian,
though very far from being so in actual fact. Nor
must we be deceived by the formidable list of
denominations and sects which has been collected
' I.e., the Unitarians understood in a strictly denomina
tional sense. In an undenominational sense — i.e., as including
whatever religious freethinkers care to avail themselves of this
name — Unitarianism is not on the decline. The term since
iiS()6, \vhen thc British and Foreign Lhiitarian Association
refused to add to its rules a clause defining the meaning ul
Unitarian Christianity, has become more and more vague and
general. But this circumstance rather supports than goes
figainst the conclusion above maintained,

CHAP. I THE RECENT HISTORY OF DISSENT 89
from the certified returns made to the Registrar-
General, and which appears in most of the current
books of reference. For in the vast majority of cases
the sects mentioned in these returns are both numeri
cally, and also as regards the extent of their influence,
undeserving of notice. As a matter of fact the re
turns in question avowedly indicate only the names
of persons on whose behalf " places of meeting for
religious worship in England and Wales " have been
duly certified. Apart from this consideration, however,
sects and denominations which have no permanent
place in thc religious life of the nation are not practi
cally worth taking into account. But in the larger
Nonconformist bodies there have been latterly no
new sectional formations ; no further dissent there
fore. Nor has there been much active dissension,
at least (and we would have this well observed) not
of the kind referred to above, i.e., dissension within
the limits of orthodoxy, and as regards principles
admitted by two parties in common, but differently
interpreted b)' each.
It appears, therefore, that that tendency towards
differentiation which had hitherto been so character
istic of the Nonconformist Churches is not just now
on the increase. We do not wish to draw from this
fact — supposing it to be admitted — any of the con
clusions, either on the one side or the other, which it
might seem to suggest. On the one hand, we are
far from arguing on the strength of this evidence that
the dissenting interest is not now in a flourishing con
dition. There can be no question as to the vitality
and activity of Dissent even in England, whilst in
Wales it is, " though not legally, yet in every other
sense, the established religion." Nor, on the other
hand, is the view here maintained that to which some
Nonconformists might incline — viz., that Dissent in
its present state is shown to be perfect by the fact
of there being no further dissidence. Against this
assumption of perfection and finality it will presently

90 THE CHURCH, OF ENGLAND part II
be contended that the phenomenon in question is due
to quite other causes. At the point we have now
reached, however, all that is necessary is to insist on
the simple fact that what is called the dissidence of
dissent does not seem to be on the increase.
2. As regards the integration. If during the last
twenty-five or thirty years there has not been much
further DIFFERENTIATION of the Nonconformist
bodies, so neither has there been much increased
tendency towards INTEGRATION. For some con
siderable time past, in fact, the sects have remained
pretty much where they were ; the dividing lines
between them have not ceased to exist, nor has there
been any comprehensive movement towards readjust
ment or mutual absorption. There has been nothing
in the recent history of Dissent to correspond with the
Catholic or pseudo-Catholic tendency of the latter-
day Church of England. In this respect, indeed, the
dissenting organisations show less capacity now than
the)' did some forty or fifty years ago, when a greater
strain was put upon them to resist the formation of
new sects. Even the union for certain purposes ofthe
"three denominations" — loose as it was — acted as a
more real bond of connection between Nonconform
ists than any which exists now. It is not so much
that the dissenting denominations are now opposed,
as that they are indifferent to each other. They are no
doubt bound together more or less by common dislike
of the Church ; but this feeling springs from too
different motives in the case of different classes of
Dissenters (as will shortly be explained) to serve as a
strong cementing influence except for political pur
poses, and even for these purposes the cement is not
always to be relied on. It is a common remark that
Nonconformists arc as much separated from each
other as they are from the Church, ancl this remark,
though like others of its kind somewhat too highly
coloured, must yet on the whole be pronounced to
be true. At any rate, the various denominations of

chap. I THE RECENT HISTORY OF DISSENT 91
Dissent are not making up their differences either
internally or in relation to each other, though, as we
have shown, they are not ADDING to them.
What, then, is the reason of this comparative sta-
tionariness of the Nonconformist bodies of to-day ?
If the tendency of Dissent were very decidedly
towards unity OR towards difference, it might be
explained as a one-sided exhibition of one or other of
the two most marked features of the contemporary
development of civilisation which, on the one hand,
seems to endeavour to combine and unite men in large
aggregations, whilst, on the other hand, it imparts to
the union thus effected a strongly marked sectional and
particularist character. Dissent, however, as has just
been shown, has not latterly made any great advance
in either of these directions. Nor does it appear
from what has been said that contemporary Dissent
isa COMPROMISE between these two tendencies. What
does appear is, that there is in the Dissenting com
munities at the present time, on the one hand, a keenly
felt desire for comprehensiveness, on the other hand,
a not less decided predilection for intensive exclusive
ness, but that these two manifestations co-exist
without either to any great extent amalgamating or
developing separately.
In order to explain this, we must examine somewhat
more carefully into the present position and signifi
cance of Dissent, both internally and as regards the
Church of England. But first let it once more be
distinctly understood that it is not in the least
intended to represent that English Nonconformity is
in a state of collapse or that it is otherwise than
prosperous, i.e., as an ad hoc attempt to meet the
religious wants of large classes of the community.
What is here aimed at is, to form an estimate of
Dissent in regard to its ultimate basis and durability.
That Dissent is for practical purposes an influential
factor at the present time no one denies or can deny.
The remarks here offered, however, have reference
only to the character of Dissent as a permanent force.

92 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part ii
Now, in that former period of which we have been
speaking, the dissensions within Dissent — if we may
use the expression — were caused, as has been already
observed, either by differences on the great Calvinistic
controversy, which, in some form or other, has divided
almost all the sects, or else by differences on
questions of Church discipline. In recent times, the
controversies agitating the Nonconformist societies
have been of an altogether different kind ; they have
turned mainly on questions connected with the
negative and critical tendencies of modern thought.
It is not so much that the Nonconformist bodies have
been avowedly and directly occupied with the issues
thus presented. Rather, in order to appreciate the
true nature of the situation and to understand its
significance, one must read between the lines of the
presidential addresses, and take note of the proceed
ings, at Congregational and Baptist Unions, and, fur
ther, one must acquaint one's self with the theological
opinions held by dissenting ministers and lay members
of dissenting denominations. It is not enough to
have recourse to outward signs and public professions
on the part of Nonconformists themselves, signifi
cant as many of these are. The tendency is a slowly
growing one, making- itself felt more in its effect on
the foundations than by disturbing the surface. There
can, indeed, be little doubt that all religious de
nominations in England are at present divided by
controversies of this kind to a much greater extent
than is commonly supposed. And it is, perhaps,
better that the view here taken should be stated thus
generally, in order that there may be no imputation of
that aim so justly deprecated by Mr. Guinness Rogers,
the aim, viz., of trying "to obtain an advantage over
a rival by whispering suspicions of its loyalty to
Christ." '
But if it be true, as we think it is, that the Noncon
formity of to-day differs from that of times past by
being concerned with a different class of questions, it
' Church Systems of /he Nineieenlh Century, p. 646.

chap. I THE RECENT HISTORY OF DISSENT

93

is not surprising that the " dissidence of Dissent "
within the Nonconformist bodies should likewise be
different. As long as the divisions between the parties
comprising sects were based on mere theological or
ecclesiastical differences, there was room for the mul
tiplication of new forms of Dissent within the same
religious communion. The new and the old parties
then contend merely as to which is the best represen
tative of a given theological or ecclesiastical principle,
recognised by both but differently interpreted by
each. When, however, the variation goes further than
this, there ceases to be any basis left for the further
multiplication of sectional divisions. The revolutionary
party, or rather the persons who compose this party
(for their position, being a negative one, does not give
occasion to combination) must then either come to
terms, or else must join the ranks of the outsiders.
But the difficulty of coming to terms in the supposed
case is almost insuperable, and as, ex hypothesi, the
differences have gone too far for dissent within the
same communion to be felt as a relief, the course most
naturall)' recommended to the extreme section is that
of complete and absolute separation. Not that this
latter course has as yet been adopted by Nonconform
ists of advanced views at all generally. The difficulty
makes itself felt, as has been already observed, in an
underground way rather than by conspicuous and
manifest signs ; it is everywhere a cause of disquietude
and apprehension, though in some quarters attempts
may be made at a compromise, and the ill-feeling
aroused may be smothered, even if only half concealed.
This, then, is our explanation of the change which has
passed over the chief Nonconformist bodies in
recent times as regards the stationariness, if not the
diminution of sectarian divisions.
On the other hand, it is not difficult to explain
the fact that the sects have not recently become in
ternally consolidated, much less have tended to
mutual absorption. Religious differences, however
slight in themselves, when they have once been

94 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part u
admitted ancl been made the basis of separation
between large bodies of men, have never at any time
been afterwards cancelled except with the greatest
difficulty. Yet in earlier ages this was sometimes
possible by means of the application of force and the
practice of persecution. Where, however, as at present,
freedom of thought is allowed to extend itself to its
utmost conceivable limits, these differences, once pub
licly recognised, are instantly multiplied into a variety
of others. Not merely the original difference, there
fore, but the whole development of thought which has
sprung from it, must be made to disappear, before
there can be a way opened to reunion. But the Non
conformist bodies, not being included in an all-
comprehensive Church, when, after multiplying their
divisions, the time came for them to unite and
combine, were unable even to approach each other for
this purpose. And this applied not merely to the
denominational divisions of Dissent, but to the
subdivisions of each of these ; in no case of this kind
was there any one to take the first step, and, if there
had been, such action would almost certainly have
been resented. Moreover, the recent growth of
Congregationalism (which even in Churches in which
the congregational form of Church government is not
the one recognised, is so remarkable') has acted as a
further preventive to any efforts on the part of the
Dissenters in the direction of union. This new
congregational impetus had been anticipated and
prepared for by the Church of England, and when it
came therefore it acted in that quarter rather as a
differentiating factor than as a disturbing one. But
amongst the Nonconformists, though for the reasons
above specified it did not increase the dissidence
of Dissent, it could not but intensify the dissidence
already existing.
' See below pp. 124-126. In recent times the growth of Congre
gationalism in the Church of England has been more remark
able than its maintenance amongst the Congregationalists
themselves.

CHAPTER II
ATTRACTION AND REPULSION.
Such, then, is the present position of the Non
conformist bodies in England and in a great measure
also of the Presbyterian Churches, established and
free, in Scotland. There are, however, differences.
These differences exist not so much between the
various denominations as between two chief tendencies
more or less at work amongst them all. Amongst all
of them the root of the matter is this apprehension of
which we have spoken. But there is a disposition in
some orthodox quarters of Dissent, to attempt to
meet the difficulties referred to, not indeed by a
relaxation of doctrinal or ecclesiastical uniformity,
but by the reduction of theological belief to its most
primitive evangelical elements, these latter being
then represented as not merely consistent with, but
as necessary to, a healthy social state and an advanced
political Liberalism. This is very much the position
taken up by the more liberal of the orthodox Dis
senters, especially amongst the Congregationalists or
Independents. It is, indeed, a position which has
much to recommend it in the eyes of that large class
of Englishmen who abhor theological subtleties but
are yet unwilling to dispense with rehgion, which
latter they regard rather as a civilising agency in the
world than under its more personal and devotional

96 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part 1 1
aspects. " In its own way," says Mr. Guinness
Rogers, " it is as English as the Anglican Church.
The spasmodic and sensational style of religious
thought is not in harmony with the genius of the
system. It is ready to welcome new ideas, and to
look at the old faith in the light which the)' throw
upon it. I'^specially, it is careful to discriminate
between thc primary doctrines of the Gospel and
those subsidiary ones which fringe round the central
truth, but are not of the essence of Christianity. It
expects variety, it encourages liberty, it tolerates
wide differences of opinion, but it holds fast by the
simplicity that is in Christ."'
The holders of this view have many advantages
not usually enjoyed in combination. They can gird
at " the advocates of a more organised Christianity " "
as likewise at " those who identify pietistic concep
tions and millenarian theology with the evangelical
creed." ^ On the other hand, Congregationalism,
though " freer in character, spirit, and method than
any other Church system "-' presents this singular
phenomenon that "nowhere is there more independ
ence than among its ministers, yet nowhere is there
more general agreement.""
This tendency of orthodox Dissent is strongly
marked amongst the Congregationalists, but prevalent
also more or less widely in the other chief English Non
conformist associations, as likewise, though to a much
less extent, amongst the Presbyterians — no matter to
which body belonging — in Scotland. No doubt,
much of our popular religion, and probably that part
of it which is of the most manly and practical type,
embodies itself under this form. And yet it is not
here that the hopes of the future lie concealed. The
very strength of this tendency is in fact largely due
to its transitional character. In itself, it is a via
media, the inconsistencies of which are far more
' Church Sysleins of tlie Niiie/eentli Century, p. 647.
''- Ibid. p. 641. ^ Ibid. p. 647. ^ Ibid. p. 646. ^ Ibid. p. 647.

CHAP. II ATTRACTION AND REPULSION 97
striking and far less intelligible than are those of the
Church of England. Those who maintain this view
have no clear idea as to what they mean by the
necessary conditions of agreement amongst Christians,
nor do they tell us how they understand the relation
between fundamentals and non-essentials, nor do they
give any indication of what they consider the limits
either of sectional or individual liberty. It is im
possible therefore to believe that we have here more
than a temporary makeshift in religion. And in point
of fact this religious profession is as zvell adapted to
meet the wants of a certain class of men under
present circumstances, as it is ill adapted to satisfy
the permanent spiritual aspirations of mankind at
large. But there is another tendency of Dissent at the
present time, which, though proceeding from the
same cause and intended to meet the same difficult)',
issues in a wholly different result. As distinguished
from the last, it is an intensive and an exclusive
tendency. The prevailing scepticism and infidelity
have the effect in this case of driving men to define
their position more closely and to unite together on a
more definite basis of rehgious particularism. Dis
senters of this class, though not numerically so strong
as in the other case, are yet in proportion to their
numbers far more influential. This is a tendency
more or less characteristic of all religious denomina
tions at the present time, Church and Dissent
included ; nor do we by any means intend to except
those forms of dissent, whether Congregationalist or
otherwise, which are governed also by the first ten
dency previously described. These two lines of thought
in fact coexist, and are far more the dividing forces of
the contemporary religious world than are any of
those divisions — often mere survivals from a past age
— which are supposed to divide.
Now, this tendency has often existed in a separatist
form, giving rise to new sectarian divisions, whether
H

98 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part ll
as a reaction against excessive ecclesiastical organisa
tion or against laxness and indifferentism. Such a
reaction was that in the seventeenth century of the
Baptists and the Quakers who, though, as Mr. Curteis
well points out, inclining in opposite directions (the
one relying solely on inward light, the other on
the imposition of a more adequate external test of
Church membership), were animated by a common
desire to protest against and, if possible, to remedy the
ecclesiastical evils of their time. This, however, was
in an age of ecclesiastical, rather than of strictly theo
logical or religious, contention. At the present time,
protests by way of reaction do not usually take the
form of ecclesiastical separation, and, just as we saw
that in the case of the first or more liberal tendency of
dissent there was no separatist inclination, but rather
an assertion of orthodox)' on lines of more primitive
simplicity, so we note in connection with this second
or ultramontane tendency a similar repugnance to
secession. And we ascribe this result in both cases
not to an)' real diminution in the bitterness of
feeling between the sections of these larger religious
denominations which succeed in holding together
notwithstanding their differences, but rather to the
felt sense of a common danger, which, if it is not
strong enough to bind them to each other in vital
union, is at least sufficient to prevent them from
parting asunder. Nowadays, the ultra-orthodox and
liberal sections of religious denominations, though
engaged on different tasks (the one in trying to
exclude, the other in tr)'ing to conciliate, the advanced
section which belongs to neither of them) are yet
both intent on a common object, viz. the healing of a
sore place in their midst ; it is this which calls away
their attention from each other, which causes them to
ignore their former differences or to regard them as
insignificant in comparison -with the threatened se
cession of their supporters, equally of both sections,
on " independent" grounds.

CHAP. II ATTRACTION AND REPULSION 99
Such being the state of feeling prevalent amongst
Nonconformists, or amongst large classes of them, at
the present time, let us next proceed to inquire how
the attitude of Dissent towards the Church of England
is determined by the considerations above advanced.
In other words, how, in respect of the two tendencies
referred to, is the Church of England brought into
contact with the Nonconformist bodies ?
First, then, what is the attitude of the broader
tendency of religious dissent towards the Church of
England .'
Up to a certain point these Broad-Church Dis
senters are disposed towards the Church of England
very favourably. Not of course that they sympathise
with Anglo-Catholicism, or with what is known
as the Sacramental system. All their traditional
inclinations are in a different, not to say opposite,
direction from that which has been taken by the
Church of England in recent years. But under a
more general aspect, there is considerable sympathy
between these two ecclesiastical tendencies. Different
as is the form which they assume respectively, they
)'et have this in common, that they both aim at com
prehension within the limits of what each believes to
be orthodoxy. That unifying ancl consolidating
energy shown by the Church of England in one
direction, in spite of the most extreme exclusiveness
in another, has in a certain sense, though of course in
a very different sense, its counterpart in the efforts of
Dissenters belonging to this more liberal class to
reduce points of difference between themselves and
others to their very lowest terms consistently with
adhesion to the faith of Christ. " It has been a
matter of complaint with some," says Mr. Guinness
Rogers, 1 " that the recent meetings of the Congrega
tional Union have been marked by a spirit so
revolutionary, that it seemed to proceed on the idea
' Essay on " The Congregationalism of the Future," in
Ecclesia. Essays edited by H. R. Reynolds, D.D. P. 474.
II 2

loo THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part h
that there is nothing in our principles and institutions
which can be regarded as definitely settled, but that
everything is in a state of fusion, waiting to be cast
into any new shape which men with Presbyterian, or
Methodist, or Plymouth Brethren proclivities may
desire to give it." This disposition is, as was above
remarked, different from that which we have described
as characteristic of the method pursued by the Church
of England, the latter being generally more skilful in
its choice of means, and especially more apt at com
bining liberal proclivities with extremely narrow
Church principles. But as regards the tendency
towards unity and comprehension, there is great
similarity between Churchmen and the more liberal
class of orthodox Dissenters at the present time, and
this gives rise to a fellow feeling not less on the one side
than on the other, which shows itself on the part ofthe
Dissenters by a sympathetic appreciation of much
which is being done by the Church, both as regards
the defence of religion and attacks on irreligion, and
on the part of Churchmen, by more friendliness and
kindliness in their relations with those who are thus
willing to meet them half way, and to associate with
them for objects which as Christians they have in
common. If, then, this feeling prevails, as it certainly does,
not only amongst leading Churchmen and Dissenters,
but also generally amongst the constituent members of
these two classes, why should there be anything more
to be said on the other side .' Why is it that many of
the same Dissenters who entertain these friendly
sentiments towards the Church are also on other
grounds bitterly opposed to the Church and unable
to combine with her except to a very limited
extent .¦"
There can, unfortunatel)', be no doubt as to the
answer to this question. \Vhat makes the S)'mpathy
of these Dissenters with the liberal attitude taken up
by the Church only a half-hearted one, is the sense

CHAP. II ATTRACTION AND REPULSION lol
that the Anglicans who talk of comprehension are
not sincere in offering it, since they have no idea of
extending- it to Dissenters except on contlition of an
entire surrender of these latter to the Church. But
liberal Nonconformists will not consent to these
terms, though on many grounds they have great
inducements to do so both from within and from
without, e.g., from within, on account of growing
difficulties as regards their relations with their more
narrowly orthodox, as likewise with their more
advanced and less orthodox, brethren, and from
without, on account of their increased sense of the
necessity of a stronger union amongst Christians in
opposition to anti-Christian influences.
Now there is no more sensitive irritation than that
which is felt by men who are divided by some special
circumstance from those with whom on general
grounds they desire to be united, and it is certain that
the exasperation of many Nonconformists against the
Church of England is due to this cause. It may
indeed be that the thought of actual union does not
at present enter into the motives which determine the
attitude of such Nonconformists towards the Church,
for union, even on federative lines, has hitherto
seemed too little practicable to have much weight
with practical men. But the irritating circumstance
to Nonconformists of this class arises from their con
viction that the progressive inclination of the Church
towards liberalism is not half so strong as its pro
gressive inclination towards a self-centred ecclesiasti
cism. The former is no doubt up to a certain point
both sincerely felt and actively manifested, but it can
never produce any real approximation, much less
vital union, in presence of the increased and increas
ing importance which is now attached by English
Churchmen to their own principles of Church
membership. These principles, though not incom
patible with a conciliatory attitude of the Church
towards Dissent and Dissenters, exclude b)' their

io^ THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART 11
very nature anything like a religious relationship of a
more intimate kind. But without some sort of
religious bond of union, mere willingness toco-operate
with the Dissenters in matters of purely moral and
philanthropic concern, is quite as much calculated to
irritate as it is to conciliate the classes in question.
It is not merely that in such matters Churchmen are
not more liberally disposed towards the Dissenters
than they are towards persons who profess no re
ligious belief whatever, but the impossibility of union
and co-operation between Church and Dissent in any
of the other and deeper matters which religious men
have at heart, is thus brought prominently into view.
And there is this further irritating circumstance,
that those Dissenters with whom we are now con
cerned are not nearly so sympathetic to the more
religious school of English Churchmen as are the
more rigidly orthodox, not to say narrow-minded,
members of the dissenting community, between whom
and their laxer brethren there is at the present time
so much uncomfortable friction and felt uneasiness.
And this cannot but be a disappointment to Dis
senters who are liberally inclined. For they desire a
religious entente with the Church of England precisely
in order to escape from their own narrow surroundings
without at the same time breaking with the traditional
tenets of Christianity in their more general accepta
tion. What then must be their feelings when, not
only is this desire of theirs not satisfied by the Church
of England, but the very thing against which they
are in revolt as regards their own coreligionists
presents itself as an insuperable obstacle to an)-
advances they might be inclined to make in the
Church direction .'' For what they revolt against in
the Church is in a sense the same as what they revolt
against in their own particular form of dissent, viz.
not the differences as regards certain points either of
Churchmen or of Dissenters from themselves, but
rather the attempt to represent that the view, in the

CHAP. II ATTRACTION AND REPULSION 103
one case of Churchmen, in the other of the stricter
class of Dissenters, must be accepted as a condition
of Church membership. And as this is the objection
of these Nonconformists to the Church, so their
dislike arising from it is due to the fact that a Church
of this kind seems to them to exclude them by its
very nature, not only from uniting but also from co
operating with itself, except to a very limited extent.
And this, although these Nonconformists have, as we
have seen, every reason to wish, and to do, well to
the Church, and might even, under certain circum
stances, attach themselves to her communion. In
other words, the alienation is much more than is
supposed that of rejected love.
But we must now consider what we have dis
tinguished as the second tendency of Dissent in its
relation to the Church of England. As in the first
case, so here, the point of view referred to is not limited
to any single religious denomination. We have seen
that this second tendency aims at establishing the
Christian religion on a firmer basis of orthodoxy than
that on which it has come to repose in these latter
clays even amongst professing Christians. Such being
the character of this aim, it is obvious that those
who have it in view will be disposed towards the
Church of England very differentl)' from the other
Dissenters above described. The motive of their
dislike to the Church of England is indeed the precise
opposite of that entertained in the other case. What
they object to is the breadth and liberality of the
Anglican Communion, whereas, in the other case, the
objection, so far from being against anything of this
kind, rested rather on the ground that the freedom
hoped for was under present conditions impossible, and
hence that the talk about it, even if sincerely meant
by Churchmen, had no real foundation in fact. The
desire of the liberal Dissenters, in short, is for a
liberal Church ; their complaint is merely that, as
matters at present stand, the object of this desire is

104 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part ii
unrealisable. On the other hand, the ultramontane
party amongst thc Dissenters do not desire a liberal
Church or a comprehensive Christianity ; they are in
favour of a highly specialised form of cloctrine and a
strict and exclusive system of Church membership.
Hence the recent tendency of the Church of England
in this latter direction meets with the approval of
this class of Dissenters much more readily than does
that other tendency, likewise above remarked ujDon,
the object of which is the conciliation of differences
ancl the comprehension of them within the same
Church. Yet, though there is a certain amount of .sympathy
on these grounds between Churchmen and the
stricter class of Dissenters, it is not intended to
suggest that this feeling has exercised any great
influence on the relations of the Church of England
with the Nonconformist bodies. For it is of the ver)-
essence of the disposition here in question, that it
cannot easily reconcile itself to the existence of
Christianity under any other form than its own. Its
bias is towards the union of persons who are
perfectly agreed both as to principles and details.
It has very little idea of a faith held in common which
is not of this nature. It regards charity as weakness,
and compromise as corrujjtion. If this is the case
even in respect of small differences, how much more
must it be so in respect of those differences which
separate High Church Anglicans from Puritan Evan
gelicals, such as are now to be found probably in
increasing numbers amongst the Baptists and Metho
dists t No doubt, as against the assaults of secularism
and infidelit)'. Churchmen and Dissenters of the kind
referred to do to some extent act together, and would,
wc may suppose, do so still more, if this were required
by circumstances. No doubt, too, each has borrowed
something from the other. More especiall)-, Church
men have shown no scruples in following the example
of Dissenters, preferring, it would seem, to imitate

CHAP. II ATTRACTION AND REPULSION 105
them rather than the Evangelicals of their own
connection.' Not to mention points of detail, thc
whole tendenc)' towards intensive class association in
the Church of England has probably a Dissenting
origin. But, as we have said, where there is such a
great difference of principle, as is here the case, and
where, as is likewise here the case, each side regards
exact theological agreement as of such essential
importance, it is difficult to see how any close
approximation or sympathy between them is possible.
It must even be esteemecl as a piece of good fortune
if Church and Dissent are not brought into conflict on
these, as we have seen that they are also on other,
grounds. For a long time this was actually the case,
nor is it by any means altogether a thing of the past
even now. Previously to the year i860, the opposition
of Dissent to the Church probably proceeded more
from this party among the Dissenters than from that
other more liberal one. For example, the Dissenters
with whom Dean Hook was brought into contact, and
sometimes into conflict, at the time when he was
Vicar of Leeds, appear to have belonged chiefly to
this class. The Church of England was then, and to
some extent is still, regarded by such Dissenters
merely as a vague general influence for good, accord
ing to that view which the President of the BajDtist
Union for 1886 denounced as involving an untrue
conception of the nature of a Church. " A Church,"
he said, " is not merely or mainly a society of men
'As regards the imitation on the other side, z'.<?. of Church
men by Dissenters, the use of Anglican forms in public
worship, and the greater attention paid to order and decency
in matters of external arrangement, so far as these practices are
characteristic ofthe Dissenters (as they very largely are, more
especially amongst the Congregationalists), probably result from
the more liberal tendency of Dissent rather than from this one.
Dissent of the second kind, however, has followed what at any
rate was once the Church's manner towards intending seceders
and schismatics, as might be shown by illustrations more amus
ing than edifying.

io6 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part II
and women who have resolved to live moral and
useful lives, who are sincere in their belief and wish
well to one another ancl their neighbours. None but
avowed Christians should be admitted into such a
society. That is a Puritan ideal of a Church."
Yet the opposition to the Church of England on
these Puritan grounds has of late years to a great
extent fallen flat, the reason being that the Church
has likewise limited herself, has likewise made a
more decided profession, has likewise become more
definite. Consequently, the objections of this class
of Dissenters to a merely general Church lose much of
their force when urged against the Church of England,
though they may be and are brought forward with not
less technical justice [i.e., from the Puritan point of
view) and with not a little justice (from the same
point of view) in actual fact, since, not only are the
formal conditions of membership of the Anglican
Church the same that they always have been, but
there are still large numbers of Churchmen who have
not specialised themselves in any definite direction,
Anglo-Catholic or otherwise. Hence, whilst it is
true generally that Dissenters of this type are less
inclined to attack the Church than they were
formerly, there is still a considerable amount of latent
ill-feeling which is apt on occasion to break forth into
open hostility.
On the whole, the Church is viewed by these
Puritan Dissenters with decidedly mixed feelings. If,
on the one hand, they recognise in the Church's work
more homogeneity and spiritual oneness, they are
likewise, on the other hancl, further off than ever from
sympathy with the Church's position. Again, if, on
the one hand, the coldness of public opinion to
objections urged against the Church on the ground of
her too great liberality disinclines these Dissenters
against urging such objections, thc)' are, on the other
hand, though from an opposite point of \-iew to that
of their more liberal brethren, increasingly distrustful

CHAP. II ATTRACTION AND REPULSIOX to?
of the sincerity of Anglican professions ; they com
plain that a Church which claims to have one single
and simple rule of faith is )'ct far from enforcing
obedience to this rule in actual practice. The
conclusion of thc whole matter seems to be, that the
Church is at once respected by the class of men we
are considering on account of her work, and is yet at
the same time despised for not freeing herself from
what they regard as impediments to the single-minded
prosecution of this work ; that in addition to this, the
sacramental and sacerdotal system meets with no
s)-mpathy from these men and is even liable at times
to be bitterly opposed by them ; and finally, that as
the result of these causes, there is exhibited by
Dissenters thus minded towards the Church some
times comparative indifference, at other times dislike
not very actively shown, occasionally unrepressed and
unrelenting hostility.
As regards reunion with the Church, these Dissen
ters are less open to it than are those of the first class
described, both because they attach more importance
to their own specific forms of belief, between which
and those of the Church there is no modus vivendi,
and also because the Church, if it continues to be even
to the most limited extent the Church of the nation,
will become more liberal, which will bring it no doubt
more into sympathy with the first, but more into con
fiict with the second, tendency of Dissent. On the
other hand. Dissent of this second kind is more easy
for the Church to live with than is Dissent of the first
kind, so long as the grievances of this latter are not
redressed. The Church may win the respect of the
Puritan Dissenters by efforts of self-devotion such as
those of which we read in Dean Hook's life ; but,
until some reforms have taken place in her constitu
tion, she must encounter the unflinching opposition of
the more liberal Dissenters, who will be the more em
bittered in proportion as they see more in her to

loS THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part ii
admire, and in proportion as they more and more feel
that thc)' would fain come to her but cannot.
Thcie will always be, as indeed (unless repressed
by persecution) there always have been, men and
women to whom the gathering of themselves together
on a restricted basis of communion is a necessity of
their spiritual life. Such persons will alwa)'s tend to
become Dissenters from any Church which professes
itself and still more from one -i\'hich really is, liberal
and comprehensive. This is the permanent kind of
Dissent. Such Dissent, after the concession of re
ligious liberty, becomes established in those rights
which long previously it has asserted either secretly
or in the face of opposition. On the other hand, there
is the Dissent which merely demands some relaxation
of the Church's rules as regards compulsory uniform
ity. Dissenters of this class arc not irreconcilable or
irrecoverable, and it might conceivably be made pos
sible for them to become members of the Church of
England. In other words, there is no hope of con
ciliating those Dissenters who desire more strictness ;
there is at any rate some hope of conciliating those
Dissenters who desire more comprehensiveness than
the Church at present allows in respect to the terms
of her communion.

CHAPTER 111
THE REUNION QUESTION
Though, however, these two classes of Dissent may
be analysed separately, it is impossible to discriminate
between them in actual practice to such an extent as
to be able to make each class the subject of separate
treatment. For neither class would as a class admit
the distinction bet-ween itself and the other class as
regards the matters above referred to, nor would it be
possible for an outsider to indicate, except roughly
and generally, the dividing lines between them. It is
for this reason that though we have analysed Dissent
into its two chief factors, and have represented one of
them as conceivably capable of being reunited with
the Church of England, we are anxious not to be
understood to mean that the practical difficulties in
the way of reunion may be made light of There is
a strong tendency in this latter direction on the part
of persons who have not grasped the true nature of
the situation, who are unaware not only how deep-
lying, but also how intertwisted with fibres, are the
roots of religious denominations, and who wrongh'
imagine that the advance of certain parties and sec
tions of Churchmen and Dissenters respectively to
each other is evidence of a widespread mo\-cment
in the same direction. The onl)' justification for a
belief in reunion seems to us to arise from the action
of outside influences. These, under certain conditions

no THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part 1 1
might, we think, produce an effect of this kind, or
might at any rate incite both Churchmen and Dis
senters to work together more heartily than they have
done with a view to this object.
At the same time, it would be a mistake to suppose
that Churchmen and Dissenters are as yet in the way of
finding a solution of their differences by means of the
extraneous forces above referred to acting upon them
both in common and affecting their mutual relations.
Looked at with regard to the ultimate future such a
solution is no doubt a possibility, perhaps even a proba
bility. But the effect which these outside infiuences
exercise at present seems to be purely and simply
negative. They may indirectly and by way of reac
tion give rise in certain quarters to reconstruction, but
their direct tendency is of a disturbing character and
such as to put a severe strain upon denominational
loyalty. To call attention to this fact and to explain
its significance, has thus far been the aim of the present
inquiry. It is time now, however, to consider
the relations of Church and Dissent less as regards
the outside, and more as regards their reciprocal
influences. Unfortunately, we soon come to the end of our
resources when the discussion is thus limited. For
the controversy between Church and Dissent has
become involved in a deadlock, from which there
seems to be no possibility of escape so long as we
confine our attention to Churchmen and Dissenters
alone. This is admitted — whether sorrowfully or
otherwise- — by both parties alike. It appeared dis
tinctly as the result of what is called the Langham-
street Conference. The difficulties on that occasion
proceeded rather from the side of the Dissenters,
though the)- were not less recognised as difficulties
by the rcprescntati\'cs of the (Thurch of England.
But those who have recently written or spoken on the
Church side have expressed themselves almost always
to the same effect. Two years ago, for example, an

CHAP. Ill THE REUNION QUESTION in
excellent paper on " points of agreement and differ
ence " between Church and Dissent was read at the
Rhyl Church Congress by the Rev. H. A. James,
Principal of Cheltenham (College, and formerly Dean
of St. Asaph. Mr. James did not in the least despair
of a better understanding and a more cordial co
operation between the two parties, and he showed
that even as matters at present stand there has been
in many respects a great improvement. But still he
confessed himself unable to see how the distinctive
differences between the two sides could be bridged
over. "We must face the fact that the Nonconformist, like our
selves, has principles which he will not give up." ... " The
Nonconformist . . . believes the Christian Church to be a
wholly spiritual and invisible body whose unity is not touched
or imperilled by ' our unhappy divisions.' You and I in the exer
cise of our reason, or conscience, or faith-- call it what you will
— accept the voice of the visible Church as representing in the
main the voice of God ; he, in the exercise of his, honestly
rej'ects that view." . " The rejection of infant baptism in
troduces a difficulty beyond man's reconciliation, one which
has its root in two divergent views of the nature of the Church
. . we cannot bridge the difficulty and compromise is im
possible." . " I have left untouched a point .... I mean
the question of the Christian ministry ; of the ordination of
the minister and his functions when ordained. I confess that
there at present I see no possibility of reconciliation."
As regards Disendowment he says : " If we must
buy reunion at such a price it is better not bought at
all." .... "I have only to sum up my
conclusions, they are these : of co-operation in purely
spiritual work little is possible, we cannot go far in
this direction without coming to impassable walls of
partition." Now, it may be said that the above points, though
of great importance in themselves, may yet be
matched by other points of still greater importance,
as to which Churchmen and Nonconformists are
agreed. And this is true, and is a truth to which Mr.

112 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part il
James does full justice. Of the agreement of the two
sides as regards " the great central verities of the
Christian faith, concerning the nature of God, the
scheme of redemption, the sanctifying work of the
Floly Spirit and the truth of revelation," he says
that " it is the one bright ray of sunshine lighting up
the chaos of disunion, that in these supremely im
portant matters there is little or no divergence of
opinion." But then, as Mr. James remarks, and his
statement is a most pregnant one, " The fact is that
religious rivalries deprive men altogether of the sense
of perspective. The important doctrine is not the
one which is most vital to the Christian faith as a
whole, but the one which the controversialist is most
concerned to defend. It avails nothing now to prove
to a Baptist, or a Congregationalist, or a Quaker that
his principles are right in the main, onl)' that they
involve a distorted development, an unnatural promi
nence of some one disputed point. To the Noncon
formist that one point has come to be the keystone
of his spiritual edifice and no persuasion in the world
will induce him to displace it at your bidding."^
As a second example of the point of view from
which Churchmen now conceive their relations with
Dissenters, may be mentioned a work first published
in 1889 and entitled Church or Chapel? an Eirenicon,
by the Rev. Joseph Hammond. Mr. Hammond was
no doubt perfectl)' serious in calling his book an
eirenicon. But for his doing so, however, it may
safely be said that no one would have discovered that
the book was intended to be of this character. What
Mr. Hammond really does is to state the view of
1 It must, however, in all fairness be admitted that of late
years the line of defence adopted by many Churchmen has
exposed itself to this same criticism. This is so at all events
us regards ]iopular Church defence. The better class of
apologists on the Church side are, of course, less subject to
partiality and onesidedness than are the corresponding class
amongst the Dissenters. It would be strange indeed if, con
sidering their superior advantages, this were not so.

chap, in THE REUNION QUESTION 113
Anglican Churchmanship with great precision and
often with considerable force. Nonconformists are
then invited to accept this view without modification
or compromise, and to confess themselves in the
wrong as regards the points in which they differ from
Churchmen. There is no suggestion of anything like
a give-and-take between the two parties ; the demand
is for simple capitulation all along the line. This
demand is no doubt temperately stated, and the
questions brought forward are fairly argued from the
writer's own point of view. But it would be impossible
to give a better illustration of the non-possumus stage
which the controversy between Church and Dissent
has now reached than that which is furnished by this
book. Here is a man gravely addressing himself to
the task of acting as a peacemaker and honestly
believing himself to be so acting who, nevertheless,
comes to the conclusion that the Church can give up
nothing, and that the only way to peace lies in the
abandonment by Nonconformists of their most dis
tinctive opinions.
The conclusion thus arrived at is that a nearer
approach between Churchmen and Dissenters is at
present too remote a possibility to be worth con
sidering. To some, however, this conclusion will
seem to go too far. It will be said, " There are no
REAL difficulties standing in the way. Such difficulty
as there is arises merely from the Anglican point of
view as such, which, ex hypothesi, cannot make terms
with, or even recognise what it regards as, schismatical
associations. Reunion — or at all events close ap
proximation — is only impossible so long as English
Churchmen remain Anglicans. But Anglicanism,
though at present the dominant view of English
Churchmen, has not always, nor even for the most part
since the Reformation, been in this position, nor is it
by any means universally accepted by members of the
Church of England even now, nor are the formularies
and articles ofthe Church of England exclusively com-

114 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part 1 1
mitted to the Anglican view. There is, therefore, no
reason why a change should not take place, and those
of us who do not believe in Anglicanism may hope
and strive for this result, not only in the interests of
truth, but also in the interests of reunion between
Churchmen and Dissenters." There are, no doubt,
large classes of persons who hold this opinion as to
the relations of Church and Dissent, and it may be
worth while, therefore, briefly to examine into its
tenability and reasonableness.
Now, there can be no doubt that the Anglican point
of view does not admit theoretically of any com
promise between Church and Dissent. Further, there
can be no doubt that if the Anglican point of view
were abandoned by its supporters, and what the
Bishop of Chester calls " Polychurchism " were
adopted by them in its stead, an opportunity would
be presented for initiating negotiations which, as
things now stand, are impossible. But in this latter
eventuality we must take into account what would be
lost as well as what would be gained. There would
be lost — what is of the greatest importance in all
negotiations — a representative organ with which to
treat. The Church of England is now leavened pre
dominantly b)' a High Anglican influence. Whatever
may be thought of this fact under other aspects, it
undoubtedly gives a character of intelligibility to the
Church's position which before was wanting to it.
And though the position thus taken up by the Church
is, as regards Nonconformists, theoretically, an irre
concilable one, this (paradoxical as it may appear) is
probably more than compensated for by the more
definite formulation of the Church's views and of the
minimum extent of her demands. As long as the
Church of England was a mere agglomerate of hetero
geneous parts, it was impossible for Churchmen and
Nonconformists to negotiate with each other without
the risk of misunderstanding. No one party or section
of Churchmen could speak FOR the rest without

chap. Ill THE REUNION QUESTION 115
the fear of subsequent repudiation by the rest. It
may, indeed, be said that there was then no risk of
such misunderstanding, since thc purpose of the
negotiations then entered into was different. For
what was then aimed at was, either to ally the
Dissenters with some one party in the Church, or
else to enable the Dissenters themselves to become a
party in the Church, at all events to be admitted to
Church membership, even though virtuall)' remaining
Dissenters. But granting that the risk of misunder
standing was thus avoided — since the High Church
men were treated rather as a quantite negligiable
than as possible parties to, ancl, therefore, as possible
repudiators of, the contract agreed to — this only con
verted the risk of misunderstanding into the absolute
certainty of failure. For even in the fifties and
sixties of the present century, the High Church Party
was in far too strong a position to be neglected. But
whatever may have been the case then, it is
scarcely questionable that a multiform Church, with
no authority attaching to any ONE ofthe forms, would
not novs' be likely to attract to itself other bodies of
Christians, whilst it would inevitably provoke dis
union amongst Churchmen themselves. And, there
fore, to abolish Anglicanism — which is just now the
prevailing type of English Churchmanship — would
not be an advisable step, even if it could be achieved,
on the ground that it would deprive the Church of
her comparatively single and simple character, as
likewise of her representative organ, in the eyes of
outsiders. But if it cannot be granted that the Church of
England would be placed in a better position for
reunion, or for a more cordial understanding with thc
Nonconformist societies, by the rejection of Angli
canism, this only means that what the Church of
England requires at the present time in reference to
the Nonconformists is a definite and distinct pro
fession which these latter can understand, and from
I 2

n6 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part u
which they can know what to expect. According to
this way of stating the matter, it would seem to be
not very material what the profession made by the
Church of England was, provided it-was recognised as
thc Church's profession by Nonconformists. But can
we go further than this .'' Can we say that without
any surrender of their Anglican professions Church
men may expect to be further reconciled with their
Nonconformist brethren .'' Of course, as has been
already noticed, if, indeed it requires notice, Anglican
Churchmen do not recognise thc Nonconformist
societies as Churches at all, or hold communion with
them in that capacity. Still, it might very well
happen that if Churchmen of these views were
brought into frequent contact and communication
-with Nonconformists, more might come of it than,
judging from their opposite tendencies, would be sup
posed possible. Nor is there any disinclination on
the part of the younger and more active section of the
Anglican clergy to form connections and to enter
into negotiations with a view to finding points of
agreement, whilst at the same time minimising points
of difference, between themselves and Nonconformists.
We may therefore consider the more liberal attitude
which has of late found favour amongst certain
sections of advanced Churchmen as a favourable
omen. But whether this element of hope will expand
and become a really important factor in the situation,
it is impossible on the scanty evidence which at
present exists to predict. There are great intrinsic
difficulties in the way of such a result, besides others
that are likely to be created by the partisans and
bigots, equally on both sides. It will be interesting
to note what happens in this respect during the next
few years. All that can be said now is that the signs
of the times, so far as they go, are promising ; that
Anglican Churchmen can do more to improve matters
than any one else ; that Church history affords many
examples of parties being brought together in spite

chap. Ill THE REUNION QUESTION 117
of their mutually opposed ecclesiastical principles ;
and finally, that as according to our view there must
be some one dominant tendency in the Church of
England in order for reunion, or even for a nearer
approach between Church and Dissent to be possible,
a prima facie ground exists for expecting this latter
result to follow from that tendency which is, as a
matter of fact, dominant at the present time.
If, however, this expectation should NOT be
realised, and Anglican Churchmanship should NOT
respond to the call which by its identification of
itself with English Churchmanship it has itself
provoked, either some other system would have
to take its place, or else all hopes of a nearer
approach between Church and Dissent would have
to be abandoned. Perhaps this choice of alter
natives will not be admitted. It will perhaps be
suggested that there is no reason why parties in the
Church of England should thus coalesce until they
present approximately one united front, and it will be
denied that a fusion of this kind is a necessary pre
liminary to any essential improvement in the relations
of Church and Dissent. It may be well therefore to
consider for a moment what are the grounds on which
this view rests, the view, viz., that the Church of
England must be one, or approximately one, as
regards her own constituent parts before she can be
come more one with the denominations of Christians
outside her own borders.
Now, it was said above that this necessity followed
from the requirement that there must be some respon
sible and representative organ in the Church of
England capable of conducting negotiations and
entering into relations with outsiders. Ancl this no
doubt is true. During the century which is now
coming to a close there have been several attempts at
a better understanding between Church and Dissent
initiated by individual Churchmen and individual
sections of Churchmen. But these attempts have not

n8 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part 1 1
only fallen through, they have for the most part had
no other effect, except to bring into clearer relief the
apparent hopelessness of the task which has been
thus taken in hand. This impotent result does not
arise wholly, perhaps not chiefly, from the intrinsic
difficulties of the situation, many and various as these
are, but rather from the fact that the Churchmen or
sections of Churchmen who have acted as negotiators
do not speak with any authority on behalf of the
Church of England as a whole. Even if they had
spoken, which in no case have they as a matter of
fact done, on behalf of a majority of Churchmen, this
would not have been enough. To come to terms
under such circumstances would merely mean that
whilst the old Dissenters were conciliated by the
majority, new Dissenters would be called into exist
ence by the revolt of the dissentient minority.
Nothing appears more certainly from recent disclo
sures ' of what has gone on in our own times as
regards changes of front which Churchmen have been
asked to concede, than the power of minorities to
prevent such changes from taking place, or to render
them inoperative. Whether this practically almost
unlimited power of veto ought to belong to a minority
even in such a necessarily conservative institution as
the Church of England, is not a question which we are
called on to decide. Our concern is not with the jus
tice or expediency of the fact, but with the fact itself
But this reason for the necessity above contended
for lies after all more or less on the surface. A far
more vital consideration in support of the same con
clusion remains to be now brought forward. No
really earnest and sincere desire for union, or even
for an effective co-operation, between Churchmen and
Dissenters, is likely to be manifested, except on con-
' The lately published Life oJ Archbishop Tail is fertile in
such disclosures. See especially the letters received by the
Archbishop as regards the damnatory clauses of the Athan
asian Creed.

CHAP. Ill THE REUNION QUESTION 119
dition of the Church of England becoming like-minded
and homogeneous throughout all its parts to a much
greater extent than is the case at present. For why
SHOULD union or an advance towards union be
desired by either side .' Surely the only real reason
for the existence of such a desire is the felt necessity
of combination for religious purposes. Reunion
would be hailed with delight by Churchmen, nega
tively, as the removal of what is a scandal to the
Christian religion, and a hindrance to united action
on the part of Christians ; positively, as an immense
addition to the Church's strength, not only in the
shape of increased numbers, but also in the shape of
increased power for good. But the Church could
never enjoy any of these advantages, or could do so
only very imperfectly, if the Dissenters added to her
communion were either to constitute themselves a
separate party in the Church, or were to join some
one of the parties into which the Church is at present
divided. The latter course, which is the one really,
though not avowedly, and perhaps not consciously,
favoured by most of the Church advocates of reunion,
is felt by Churchmen generally to be unsatisfactory and
unworkable ; and this feeling, we may be sure, secretly
disinclines not a few Churchmen to reunion, seeing
that it would be purchased at too great a price. And
though no doubt there are some persons to whom the
mere rooting out of " schism," quite independently of
any after consequences, seems an object of paramount
importance, it is not probable that this object by
itself would ever excite the amount of general en
thusiasm which would be required for its attainment.
Let us now look at the matter from the other
side, viz., from the point of view of Dissent. Dis
senters, then, it is here maintained, will never be
really desirous of union with the Church except on
condition that the Church is herself more united, with
all that this implies. For if we look deeper than those
mere social considerations by which Dissenters are

120 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part [ I
sometimes attracted to the Church, we shall find that
the only attraction of this kind really worth taking
into account is that which is derived from the position
ofthe Church as a NATIONAL Church, by which what
is intended to be meant is by no means the position
of the Church as established by law, but far rather its
position as the authoritative exponent of the national
faith. That Dissenters do not feel this more must be
ascribed to that " note of provincialism " attaching to
them, with which a late distinguished critic has made
us only too familiar and which here, therefore, may be
simply taken for granted. But even as matters now
stand, there are many Dissenters, especially those of
the higher class, who recognise the Church's historical
claims as the representative of British Christianity,
though they may regard the Church in its present
state as false to its mission and as having no claims
therefore on themselves. It has often been pointed
out that in numberless ways the right to lead is
unconsciously conceded to the Church by Dissenters,
even when as far as their conscious intention is con
cerned, they are exerting themselves to the utmost
extent of their power in order to dispute this right.
AndcIerg)-menof the Church of England, in the course
of their ordinary parochial experience, must often be
struck by the dependence of Dissenters on the Church
and by the influence which the)' themselves are able
to bring to bear on their Nonconformist parishioners
in consequence. It will no doubt be said by some
that such clergymen have this influence at their com
mand because the Church to which they belong is
established by law. But this is a \-cr)- superficial,
though no doubt a partially true, explanation of the
fact in question, which is far rather due to a still
lingering sense, even in the minds of Dissenters, that
the Church — irrespecti\-c of its being established — is,
or ought to be, the Church of the nation.
Nor does this feeling exist as a mere sentimental
survival. It has, on the contrar)-, a perfectly intelligible

CHAP. Ill THE REUNION QUESTION 121
rationale in connection with the facts of religious life
in England at the present time. For there is now
very generally prevalent, and that in the most un
looked-for quarters, a craving for a Church capable of
supplying a clear and definite statement of religious
faith to which it will adhere, and which it is prepared
to explain and defend. No reasonable Dissenter
would deny that it is the right, and most such would
insist that it is the duty, of the Church of England to
satisfy this craving. Even as it is, the Church of
England holds the field to such an extent as to have
really no rival in respect of such provision as is at
present made to meet the required demand. Loose,
fluctuating, and inconsistent as is the teaching of its
official representatives ; timid and vacillating as is
their guidance, there is yet more light and leading de
rived from this source than from any other in these
realpis or than from all others combined.
If, then, the Church of England is to make any
further progress as regards attracting to her commu
nion the Nonconformists of England, it will doubt
less be in virtue of her character as an authoritative
Church, though of course not in the Roman sense.
As regards this latter, it may be that in the future
our Church will claim less prescriptive authority than
shedoesnow, whilst exercising more real authority than
she does now. But however this may be, the Non
conformists are not likely to be drawn to the Church
by the Church's abdication of her position. They
would far rather see her occupy that position worthily
and in a right manner.
Such being the case, how can we expect that a
favourable impression will ever be produced on the
minds of Nonconformists by the spectacle of a
Church of England divided against herself 1 In order
for that Church to speak with the voice of authority,
the divergent views existing in her own communion
must coalesce more than they do now. Church parties
must become more united, there must be more of a

122 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART 1 1
common spirit inspiring the organisation of Church
work and Church life.' Authority presupposes that
there should be a real correspondence between the
union and the unity of those who exercise it. If, as
is often maintained, the only ideal capable of being
realised by the Church is a mere generalunity of spirit
without reference to any other unity or an advance
towards it, then the Church of England can be
neither an authoritative Church nor an object of
desire to Nonconformists. Not that this ideal
is in itself a bad one, even if it should turn out to be
alone possible. Merely, in that case the Church
would have no inducement to reunion to offer to Non
conformists which would be sufficiently tempting,
since to join a Church in which wide sectional differ
ences of opinion were admitted and tolerated, would
not confer on them any substantial advantages as
compared with those which they enjoy now apart
from the Church. For, as matters uoiu stand, parties
in the Church acknowledge that there is or ought to
be a unity of spirit existing between them, and there
is or ought to be under present conditions this same
relationship between Churchmen and Dissenters.
Now, if the Dissenters either added themselves to some
one of the parties in the Church, or became a new
Church party, they would still be no more, though
they would be no less, united with those who differ
from them than they are now, and the only thing they
would gain would be the merely formal privilege of
calling themselves members ofthe Church of England,
or — to speak in the language of Churchmen — mem
bers of the Church of Christ in England. This latter
privilege appears no doubt to Anglican Churchmen
as of inestimable value. But even if this privilege were
\-alucd to an equal extent by Dissenters, it would
' Thib is intended to refer to the Church of England through
out its whole extent. As regards the dominant School of
Cliurchmen ancl the masses of their followers, there is " common
spirit " enough.

CHAP. Ill THE REUNION QUESTION 123
lose this value in their eyes if its possession was not
seen by them to involve a real and effective union
on the part of Churchmen amongst themselves, and
by analogy therefore on the part of Dissenters if they
became Churchmen.
Further arguments in support of this conclusion are
unnecessary. Briefly stated, what has been said is
intended to establish three positions, (i) that the
Church must become one herself before she can
become one with others ; (2) that it is only on this con
dition that she can impress Dissenters with a sense
of her authority ; (3) that such an impression is the
only thing calculated, or at any rate the thing best
calculated, to attract Dissenters to Church membership.
With regard to the outlook in the future, the
Church of England will probably be dominated in
turn by several different tendencies before reunion or
even a closer union will become possible. Each
of these, as they succeed each other, will be
more dominant and over-mastering than the last,
until at length the supremacy of some one will be
converted into at least relative universality. The
interest of the tendency now in the ascendant consists
in the fact that it has exercised a wider and a deeper
influence than any other by which the Church of
England has been affected since the Reformation ;
it has diffused itself more, has identified itself more
with the Church of England as a WHOLE ; it has
claimed to be more than a section or party in the
Church ; and by the men of the present generation,
whatever may be the case as regards the future, this
claim has to a great extent been recognised. Hence,
the Oxford Movement, especially in its latter-day
development, has an importance for the student of
contemporary ecclesiastical history which is altogether
independent of its intrinsic merits or defects. It is at
once a prophecy and a fulfilment of the Church's
internal union, and this — as is here maintained — must
necessarily precede the Church's union with outsiders.

124 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND partii
In what has been said above on the relationship of
Church and Dissent the argument has proceeded on
the assumption that reunion is a possible and probable
consummation, and it may even seem to have been
inferred that this result is destined to take place. But
whilst there is much in the signs of the times which
seems to point in this direction, it must also be frankly
admitted that there are many tendencies which suggest
an altogether opposite conclusion. The ordinary
dispassionate observer would probably be more
inclined to pronounce against the likelihood of ulti
mate reunion than for it, judging from present
indications. To such an one, we may suppose, it would
appear that there was much more reason to look for
ward in the future to the indefinite multiplication of
Churches and sects co-existing, but mutually independ
ent and autonomously governed in each case. This
would mean, otherwise stated, that the form of Church
government destined ultimately to become universal,
is Congregationalism carried to its most extreme
lengths. As this view is a very plausible one and
admits of being recommended on many different
grounds, it will be necessary, before proceeding further,
to examine into its nature and to attempt an estimate
of its significance.
The growth of Congregationalism is not to be
measured by its prevalence amongst those Noncon
formists — such as the Congregationalists and Baptists
— who are governed ecclesiastically on Congregation
alist principles. As an accepted system of Church
government, Congregationalism is still confined to those
denominations by which it has been from the first
professed. In a more general sense, however, not only
has it extended itself amongst non-congregationalist
Dissenters, but it has also exercised great influence on
the Church of England. At the present time, the
centre of religious life and activity in the Church of
England is coming to be (more especially in large
towns) far rather the congregation than the parish.

CHAP. Ill THE REUNION QUESTION 125
This of course does not mean that religious men and
women now confine themselves to participation in acts
of congregational worship, or that as much missionary
and philanthropic work is not now done in our parishes
as was formerly done in them. What it means is, that
at the present time the parochial organisation is not,
as such, the sole or even the chief directing influence.
Even in cases where it seems to be so, it is the parish
church rather than the parish that discharges this
function, or there has been some private agency at work
in the parish, which, whether acting under parochial
authority or otherwise, is virtually a self-constituted
and independent organisation. The Church of England,
in fact, so far resembles the Dissenting communities,
that its most characteristic energies proceed from
the several congregations which are assembled in its
name, rather than through the recognised parochial
channels. Nor is it merely that congregations are thus active
individually, though the activity which the Church
has shown of late years in that way is a most note
worthy phenomenon. What is now meant by Church
work in its more universal and comprehensive sense
is, when it comes to be examined, not a manipulation
of the parochial machinery for common ends, but a
combination of certain sections of Churchmen repre
senting congregations like-minded with each other, to
promote objects approved of by those congregations.
That such congregations do not always, nay, perhaps
do not often, represent the respective parishes from
which they emanate, so far as regards the corporate
capacity of these latter, is a truth as manifest in fact
as it is far-reaching in importance. The parochial
organisation was adequate and effective so long as
religious differences were in compulsory abeyance.
When, however, differences and divergences arose,
the congregation, though NOT recognised, became a
more necessary form of organisation than the parish
which WAS recognised. The union of congregations

126 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART il
in various groups became equally necessar)', and the
activity of the Church thus came to mean, either the
activity of some one congregation, or else of various
congregations associated together by a common bond
of sympathy.
It may seem that all this is an abstract way of
talking and that there is nothing in fact corresponding
with it. And it is no doubt true that the congrega
tions in our churches do not consciously assume, and
in most cases do not realise, the position of independ
ence here assigned to them. At the present time,
English Church people are drifting some one way
and some another in obedience to the most diverse
currents of religious thought and opinion, and it would
be impossible to localise the several tendencies at
work or to say that this or that congregation was an
embodiment of one or other of them. None the less,
however, the movement of contemporary Church life is
in the direction we have indicated. In other words,
any attempt to discover the forces which govern the
development of the Church of England at the present
time would necessarily start from a careful inspection,
not of parishes, as such, but of the congregations into
which Churchmen are divided according to their
respective tastes.
Considering, then, these and other like facts both as
regards the Church of England and as regards those
Dissenting denominations whose behaviour in this
respect thc Church tends to reproduce, it cannot but
appear as highly probable that this same state of
things will increase and extend itself, and in a more
developed form will become ultimately the basis of
the settlement of the whole question.
This conclusion derives additional support from
the consideration that in the United States, where
the forces of modern civilisation are generally
regarded as having fuller and freer scope than
is allowed to them in England, not only is the re
ligious equality of all denominations guaranteed by

CHAP, in THE REUNION QUESTION 127
law, but the tendency is much more towards their
clcN-elopment separatel)' and independentl)' than it is
towards their unification. It may, therefore, with
much show of reason be argued that a phenome
non which exhibits itself in the absence of old-
world precedents and traditions would, if these latter
impediments were removed, exhibit itself also in
England. Few of us perhaps realise how strong this tendenc)'
is, especially in matters of religion, at the present
time. We are all aware, no doubt, of the great
attractiveness and the great present popularity of thc
principle " You think as you like ancl let us think as
we like ; " but some of us are not so well aware that
this principle is now by many, and by an increasing
number, held not merely as a protest against the
exercise of either direct or indirect compulsion, but
also as expressing a mode of relationship between
persons and parties which it is not desired to change
or to improve upon. The members of different re
ligious denominations have had the duty of mutual
toleration so deeply impressed upon them, that in
many quarters the result is not merely their non
interference with each other, but also the habit of
regarding the existence of such denominational
differences as belonging to the very nature of religion,
as presenting no stumbling-block, as a thing which a
man can very well live with, and perhaps even as a
thing which a man could not live without. Nor is it
only the lukewarm and the indifferent who are thus
minded ; it is not uncommon to find even men of
earnest religious convictions similarly disposed. It is
not liberalism which has produced this disposition,
for those by whom it is entertained are not moved
with sympathy, nor do they make advances, towards
the members of other denominations. It is, rather,
partly that modern life is so vast and its conditions
so complex that the separatism of class-association is
a practical necessit)' ; partly, that there is a growing

128 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND partii
tendency to identify denominational and even congre
gational differences with social distinctions between
classes. As regards this latter influence, it is quite
certain that an increase of sectional differentiation in
matters of religion never takes place without reference
to class distinctions, and if, therefore, the dominant
tendency in the future is to be unlimited sectarianism,
this will inevitably act as a bulwark for the erection
of barriers between the classes of society which in
their turn will strengthen and perpetuate the religious
differences. This incidental result, however, though
to many it will seem of more importance than the
main fact from which it proceeds, cannot in the pre
sent connection be further investigated.
Nor do the limits of this discussion admit of any
attempt being made to estimate at length the ethical
character of these sectarian proclivities. It has
already been observed that not only indifferentists,
but also many earnest-minded men, are now inclined
to be content with the denominational status quo. But
the greater part of the support which this point of
view receives is derived either from those who are
morbidly fearful of new and undesirable complications
arising in the event of change, or else from those who
are deeply rooted in scepticism, and disbelieving in all
religious professions hold that the existing arrange
ment is as good as any other ; or else from those who
have not enough imagination to be able even to
conceive of anything different ; or finally from those
— the largest class of all — who on e\-ery ground desire
nothing better than to be let alone and to let others
alone On the other hand, the better and worthier
representatives of this same class are composed of
those whose religious devotion is so associated with
particularism of doctrine and ritual that compre
hension appears to them in the light of contamination,
or else of those whose strong practical sense inclines
them to make the most of what they have without
thinking of what they have not ; or else of those whose

CHAP. Ill THE REUNION QUESTION 129
aesthetic sense of harmony and love of traditional
observance predispose them to conservatism on
" historical " grounds.
To return, however, to the question of probabilities
as between the tendency towards reunion and that
towards separatism. Anything like a confident
prediction with regard to an issue of such vast
magnitude, and which depends on such unforeseen
contingencies, would be altogether beside the mark.
If we look at what seems most probable, judging from
the steady even fiow of contemporary history, the
conclusion must be that the voice of civilised mankind
is more likely to decide in favour of increased
denominational and congregational independence,
and it will then be reasonable to look forward in the
future to an intensified if not to a multiplied
sectarianism. But it must be remembered, on the
other hand, that this latter expectation presupposes
the march of events and the development of tenden
cies precisely according to the ordinary laws of
civilisation as we see them at present in operation,
whereas the occurrence of cataclysms and revolutions
al certain intervals of time is, in religious history, not
the exception but the rule. To generalise from " the
movement of contemporary civilisation " does not in
matters of the kind we are now discussing take us
very far. In point of fact, many deeper questions are
involved in the issue here presented, e.g. the question
as to the future of religious belief, and that as to the
nature and place of authority in matters of religion.
It is not indeed contended that in the course of the
working out of these and other like questions reunion
will be arrived at or even helped forward. Any such
result will to many appear as in the last degree
unlikely, however probable it may appear to ourselves.
But though this is not contended, it is allowable to
protest against the settlement of the question in an
opposite sense merely on the strength of superficial
generalisations as to the progress of society. Religious K

130 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PARTII
movements, however closely related to other con
temporary movements, are unfathomable in their
origin and incalculable in their results. Nothing
absolute therefore can be laid down, either on the one
side or the other, as regards this subject.
But if the course of things in general is urged on
behalf of religious separatism, it is open for us to take
advantage of a different kind of evidence in support of
the opposite conclusion. For we may surely believe
that that side which enlists the advocacy of the best
men and which appeals to the noblest instincts of our
nature, must be destined in the long run to triumph,
though its " warfare " may be not yet " accomplished."
There has never been a time since the Dissenting
bodies first became conspicuous enough to attract
attention, when their separation from the Church has
not been looked on with concern both by ecclesiastical
and political statesmen, and when the idea of reunion
with them has not been hailed with delight by the
more catholic-minded portion of the community. To
suppose that what has been so ardently desired by so
many generations of the most personally devout, and
at the same time the most public-spirited Englishmen,
is foredoomed to inevitable failure, strikes at the root
of the old-fashioned, but still not )'et altogether
discredited, belief that goodness, especially if it is
allied with reasonableness, must at last be crowned
by success.
Nor because the attempted solution of this question
has produced many chimerical proposals, ought we to
despair of the possibility, if not of reunion, at all
events of some better arrangement between Church
and Dissent than that which exists at present. A
subject of this kind necessarily gives rise to far-
reaching aspirations, many of which are incapable of
attainment. Moreover, though the relations between
Churchmen and Dissenters have improved, the two
sides still know very little of each other, and therefore
it is not unnatural that there should be a veiy limited

CHAP. Ill THE REUNION QUESTION 13I
understanding of the questions at issue by those who
approach them only or chiefly from their own side.
But we may suppose that in the future not only will
there be a better mutual understanding between
Churchmen and Dissenters, but also that the contro
versy between them will lose much of its old
significance owing to the interest of both parties
being diverted to an altogether different class of
questions. Whatever may be the final result of this
diversion of interest as regards the questions involved,
the result as regards Church and Dissent will un
doubtedly be to bring them more closely together. As,
however, enough has been said on this aspect of the
relationship between Church and Dissent, the space
which remains will be devoted to the consideration of
a state of things in which there is no outside influence
at work of the kind referred to above. For the
question of Church and Dissent in country parishes,
and even in country town parishes, is scarcely, if at
all, complicated by the presence of any negative or
critical influences of modern thought. It will be
better, however, to reserve what we have to say as
regards this question for a separate chapter.

1< 2

CHAPTER IV
RURAL DISSENT
Throughout the above discussion the reference
has been chiefly, though not exclusively, to Dissent in
comparatively educated centres and amongst urban
populations. Very little has been said about a fact
which is perhaps even more familiar, viz. the strength
of the Dissenting interest in rural districts.
The causes commonly assigned for this increase of
strength are the following.
In the first place, the Church in rural England is
associated in the minds of the agricultural classes with
all those aristocratic claims to superiority against
which just now there is so much bitter agitation.
Secondly, the educated Church laity in country dis
tricts is rapidly declining in numbers and influence.
Hence the clergyman, who often, even in spite of the
best intentions, is out of sympathy with his flock (not
reckoning the cases where this is his own fault), is
placed in a position which makes success, and even
the avoidance of failure, in man)- cases impossible.
Striving single-handed against countless odds, he
either gives up the task in despair, or else breaks
down under its weight. Thirdly, it is seldom that
there is much warmth or heartiness of worship in the
public services of the Church in these country dis
tricts, where the churches are large and the congre
gations arc small ; this places the church at a

CHAP. IV RURAL DISSENT 133
disadvantage as compared with the chapel, which,
however inferior in other respects, has at least the
merit of promoting congregational unit)- and devo
tional heartiness. Lastly, owing to the emigration
from the country into the towns, which is increasing
ever)' )-car. the best and most \'igorous part of the
rural population of England is no longer a\'ailable for
parochial, or indeed for an)- other purposes, on its
own native ground, those of whom it is composed
being removed to a distance at an early age. Now,
this tells much more against the Church than against
Dissent, the latter not being called on to occupy
itself with any works of parochial organisation, or to
do more than maintain in existence its own form of
worship. In considering how far these causes are sufficient to
account for the phenomenon in question, we cannot,
of course, ignore the fact that in the country districts
of England, the social and political element which
enters into Dissent is much stronger than it used to
be ; indeed this political element is of comparatively
recent growth, or, at all e\-ents, has recentl)- enlarged
itself As distinguished from this, the religious
element in rural Dissent has long been what it is
now, the most favourite Dissenting denominations in
counti')- districts ha\-ing alwa)-s been those which
are the most narrow and uncompromising in their
dogmatism, e.g. the Primitive Methodists, the Calvin
istic Methodists, and the Particular Baptists.
What, then, is the relation of the religious to the
political factor in rural Dissent 1
Now, though we admit that in some parts of the
country there are Nonconformists whose chief interest
in religion is political, whose attraction to Dissent is
indeed, properl)- speaking, not religious at all, but
rather social and agrarian (this being one amongst
man\- signs of the discontent prevailing amongst the
agricultural classes and of the declining strength of
aristocratic feudalism), though A\'e admit that there is

134 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part ii
a certain amount of Dissent in the country districts of
England which has its root in these motives, it does
not seem to us to be the case that this is so generall)'.
To our thinking, rural Dissent which is in earnest,
usually originates more or less in religious motives,
even when it assumes a political form. The break up
of the aristocratic system represented by the parson
and the squire, no doubt partly gives rise to, just as
partly it is caused by, the spread of Dissent. But,
nevertheless. Dissent in most country districts where
its influence is strongly felt, arises not nearly so much
from these tendencies as from a felt religious want
and a desire to satisfy that want. And this is much
more than most Churchmen would care to confess at
the bottom of the country Dissenter's animus against
the Church ; or rather, perhaps it would be truer to
say, that feeling generally out of sympathy with the
ruling powers in his own neighbourhood, this feeling
becomes intensified as regards the Church by his
sense of the Church's impotence as a spiritual force.
Sometimes, however, the sense of the Church's failure
(which, as has been shown, is not wholly the Church's
fault, many causes having united to produce it, over
which the Church has no control) is more dis
interestedly religious. There are those, and they are
an increasing number, who dissent from the Church
because they really and truly cannot find in her
communion the spiritual nourishment they demand.
The main feeling then of this class of Dissenters is
a religious one, though no doubt in most cases other
motives mix with this one. This mixture often pro
duces an unqualified antagonism such as, especially
in small country villages, presents a truly mournful
picture ofthe Church's broken unity and divided life.
We do not wish to pursue this subject. It is sufficient
to have stated our belief that political motives, though
they enter largely into the feelings of these rural
Dissenters, are yet in most cases subordinate to an
even stronger religious motive, which latter both

CHAP. IV RURAL DISSENT 135
produces Dissent and excites the fiercest opposition
of Dissenters against the Church.
Nor on other grounds is it necessary to enter at
greater length into the facts above referred to. For
in considering the remedies which are called for by
this state of things, it would be well to remember that
these latter are to be looked for not so much in any
direct alteration in the relations of Church ancl
Dissent in country parishes, as rather in the improve
ment of the Church's own internal organisation with
out reference to the existence of Dissent and the
animosity of Dissenters. An improvement of this
kind might not eliminate, or even materially weaken.
Dissent, but it would add so much to the strength of
the Church as to make it then a matter of indifference
to Churchmen what was the strength of the position
occupied by the Dissenters. There will, in fact, for a
long time to come, be plenty of room in rural England
for the coexistence of both parties. The present
situation is to be deprecated because, owing to the
archaisms in her constitution and the unsuitableness
of her machinery to meet the demands made upon it,
the Church of England is prevented from fulfilling
her mission as regards villagers and country-folk.
These impediments are not at all compensated for, as
is often wrongly supposed, by the advantages which
the Church possesses owing to her traditional position
and the influence arising from it. The dignity and
prestige thence derived do not at the present day
count for much, whereas the weakness of the Church
in respect of such matters as the distribution of her
clergy and of their endowments, the adjustment of
parochial boundaries, the difficulty of securing the
right man for the right place, and of moving clergy
men on to positions in which they can be more useful
or less cumbersome, counts for a great deal. The
solution of these questions would affect the church
and chapel difficulty in country places in the only
way in which it is desirable that that difficulty should

136 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PARTII
be affected by any remedial measures, viz. by enabling
the Church to do justice to herself, and by securing a
fair field for her pastoral ministrations and parochial
activities. If, after being thus liberated from the
antiquated trammels imposed on her by the damnosa
hcBreditas of her privileged position, the Church were
to fail to make any such impression on rural popula
tions as she has made on urban ones, it would then
be very unreasonable to find fault with the Dissenters
for taking the Church's place, and for succeeding in
a work in which the Church had failed. Indeed, even
as matters now stand, it must be thankfully admitted
that, in many a village and on many a country side,
the Dissenters do supply a real religious want which
would not be supplied otherwise.
It cannot, however, but be felt that in spite of the
strength of the Dissenting interest being at the
present time relatively greater in the villages than it
is in the towns, this arises very largely from artificial,
and therefore in all probability from temporary,
causes. For Dissent in the towns is due, at all events
comparatively, to a conscious preference of opinion, to
theological and ecclesiastical proclivities which spring
from contemporary movements of thought on religious
subjects. But rural Dissent, so far from being pro
duced by tendencies of widespread prevalence, is a
strictly local phenomenon. It has no independent
existence, but is dependent simply on the failure of
the Church in a particular neighbourhood to make
itself felt as a spiritual agenc)'. It is also associated
with the present condition of agriculture in England,
and with the social and agrarian crisis through which
the agricultural districts of England are now passing.
But these characteristics of English country life are
essentially transitory and vary indefinitely even now
in different localities. Let no one therefore think that
the Church is necessarily doomed to the forfeiture of
her influence in these countiy districts. So far as
regards the conditions under which she is at present

CHAP. IV RURAL DISSENT 137
working, there might easily be a turn of the tide in
her favour, and if this were to take place, and at the
same time the Church were to reform herself in those
respects above mentioned, and were to initiate certain
other changes not less warmly advocated by contem
porary Church reformers, there is no reason to doubt
that she would regain the hold which she has tem
porarily lost on the affections of the agricultural classes
of the community.
But here of course we are met by what is after all
the main, if not the only, difficulty in the present
situation. Is it likely that the Church will reform her
self .? or that Parliament will undertake this work ? or
that if Parliament did do so, the Church would accept
the legislation of Parliament .' At the present time,
all these three suppositions seem in the highest de
gree unrealisable, though in order for any substantial
improvement to be effected, they would all three have
to be realised.
As regards the Church's reformation of herself
without the assistance of Parliament, the limits within
which such a thing is possible are soon reached. But
even within these limits, it seems almost hopeless to
expect that Churchmen will be unanimous enough
amongst themselves to do what requires to be done.
And this is especially the case as regards what
requires to be done in country districts. In town
parishes, the pressure of public opinion on the clergy
is much stronger, not only because in material ways
the clergy are there dependent on their congregations
to an extent unknown in the country, but also because
the mere expression of a collective opinion on the
part of large numbers of persons, many of them
highly educated and influential, acts as a stimulus
which in the countiy is wholly wanting. Consequently,
many minor but still extremely salutary reforms have
been carried through in town parishes by the spon
taneous consent of clergy and laity. But this phe
nomenon, which even in towns is by no means as

138 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part ii
common as it might be, can hardly be said to have
any existence in the country, where clerical autocracy
is so much stronger and the educated Church laity so
much weaker. Our conclusion therefore is, that the
Church is not likely to enter to any great extent on
the work of self-reformation, and that she is especially
unlikely to enter on this work as regards what
requires to be done to increase her efficiency in
country parishes.
As for Parliament interesting itself in Church
matters, every year that passes seems to increase the
disinclination of the House of Commons to any such
undertakings ; indeed, the doctrine is becoming more
and more fashionable that Parliament is by its very
nature disqualified from legislating, if not on ecclesi
astical affairs in general, at all events on the affairs of
the Church of England.
Finally, everything goes to show that Churchmen
are indisposed to accept Parliamentary legislation
except on their own terms, which latter are not likely
to be accepted by Parliament. Even quite small
measures, such as the Tithe Act of 1891 and the
Clergy Discipline Act of 1892, though initiated by the
Government of the day with a view to the removal
of obvious evils affecting the Church, are by many
Churchmen only very grudgingly accepted, whilst by
none perhaps are they very enthusiastically supported.
These considerations have nothing to do with the
subject of the present discussion except in so far as
that the difficulty of getting anything done to im
prove the Church is one of the facts which have to be
reckoned with in regard to the relations of Church
and Dissent, more especially in country districts.
How cumbrous is the present machinery of the
Church, and how ill-suited for the work required of it,
whether amongst primitive people in out-of-the-way
places, or amongst the more educated but not always
more prosperous tenant farmers and peasantry of the
]-iomc counties, can onl)- be known to tho.se who live

CHAP. IV RURAL DISSENT 139
in the country without being entirely of it, and who
are neither cockneys on the one hand nor mere
countiy bumpkins on the other. The literature of the
last few years has been fruitful in studies of rural
life, produced by writers thus duly qualified both as
regards knowledge of facts and power of generalisa
tion. But such writers, though making often the
most valuable suggestions, seldom appear to see that
the real difficulty is not what to do, but how to get
anything done. Thus, in the chapter entitled " The
Church and the Villages " of his Trials of a Country
Parson, the witty and ingenious Dr. Jessopp writes
admirably on the subject of Church reform as re
gards rural districts. The proposals, however, are
stated without anything being ever once said to show,
what nevertheless their author is far too acute an
observer not to know without needing to be told, viz.
that there is no one of such proposals which would
not divide even a small clerical assembly, much less
the Church at large, into hostile and irreconcilable
factions ; no one of such proposals again which, even
if it passed muster with the Church of England clergy
and laity, would not hopelessly divide not merely the
House of Commons but each separate group of which
the House of Commons is composed. The way to
Church reform is in fact blocked to such an extent
as to be almost, if not quite, impassable, and reformers,
therefore, whilst profoundly dissatisfied with the
present state of things, are compelled to make the
best they can of it, whilst at the same time watching
for an opportunity to exchange it for a better one.
As regards the question of Church and Dissent in
rural districts, this attempt to make the best of things
as they are, may take either of two forms, the first of
which is exclusive of the second, though the second
may and should exhibit some features at any rate of
the first. As to which is to be preferred, the circum
stances of different localities require to be considered
in different cases. The two policies referred to are —
I. For the Church to be content to keep a good

I40

THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part ii

deal to herself without aggressiveness and without
proselytism, to aim at thoroughness and efficiency
within the limits marked out for her, presenting to
the surrounding country the spectacle of a heartily
united and devotionally inclined body of worshippers,
living earnest and consistent lives themselves, and not
desirous of increasing the Church's following except
on condition of those who accept Church member
ship showing themselves worthy of it. This policy
may be pursued by persons who profess the most
different views on Church matters and by members of
the most different Church parties. It has, in fact, no
reference to any questions either of Church doctrine
or of Church ritual. It consists mainly in the main
tenance by Churchmen of a high standard of
qualitative fitness amongst themselves, in the ad
herence to this standard without thought of any
calculations of the numerical strength of the Church
interest, and in the endeavour to win over outsiders,
and amongst them Dissenters, by the pure force of
example rather than by any more aggressive efforts.
That such a policy may tend to exclusiveness when
it is ignorantly or incautiously administered, cannot
be denied ; but there is nothing intrinsically exclusive
in its motive, nor is it at all necessarily of this
character in its effects. There is not the slightest
doubt that this policy is often in the best sense a
success, and that it is especially successful in regard
to the influence which it exercises on the rural Dis
senter. The better class of such Dissenters are not in
the least impressed by troops of communicants and
confirmation candidates in their own parish churches,
any more than they are by the published returns of
the Church of England Year-Book as regards the
strength of the Establishment as a whole. What they
look for is realit)' of conviction and seriousness of life,
ancl where these latter are wanting, no parade of the
Church's available resources — whether of men or
mone)- — will be accepted by them as an equivalent.
Such, then, is one practicable policy which it is open

CHAP. IV RURAL DISSENT 141
for the Church to pursue in reference to the Dis
senters, or, as we ought rather to say, such is one
policy which, if it is pursued by Churchmen for its
own sake, will have the effect of increasing the
Church's strength in the eyes of Dissenters.
2. The only alternative policy to this is to recog
nise Dissent, or at all events to recognise it in the
case of those who by reason of their backwardness
and want of education are unable to be reached by
the Church. Let it be remembered that we are
speaking of the agricultural classes and of the most
ignorant section of those classes. Now, not only is
this unenlightened residuum of the peasantry the chief
source from which rural Dissent draws its support,
but dissenting agencies are much more within their
right, as well as infinitely more successful, in dealing
with this residuum than they are in dealing with any
other portion of the agricultural community. For in
cases where the shop-keeping class of villages or
small country towns are Dissenters, and still more
where yeomen or farmers are Dissenters, a Church
man may be pardoned for thinking that better things
might have been expected of them. But in cases
where the peasantry pure and simple are concerned,
more especially in exclusively agricultural districts,
it is difficult to resist the weight of the enormous
amount of evidence which goes to show that " they
do these things better " in the chapel than in the
Church. It must be borne in mind, that we are not
arguing as to what might or might not be the case
in the event of certain reforms taking place in the
Church's constitution and methods of working. We
are arguing on the supposition of the status quo exist
ing as at present. If Church reform is excluded,
what possible means of reaching those whom the
Church now fails to reach remains open, except that
of leaving the matter to be dealt with, up to a certain
point, by the Dissenters .-'
Against any such proposal no doubt numerous

142 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part 11
objections will be raised, only a few of which have we
space to consider here. It will be said by some that,
even as matters now stand, the Church does not fail
to reach the classes in question, and we shall at once
be met by the opponent so familiar to us in the
columns of Church newspapers, whose own parish is
a standing example of the possibilities open to clergy
men, of bringing the Church more into touch with the
agricultural classes. But suppose we admit in defer
ence to this gentleman, and others like him, that the
Church is not always a failure as regards the peasantry,
and that in certain parishes the Chapel as compared
with the Church is simply nowhere in the eyes of the
agricultural labourer, will any one say that this is a
COMMON case, or that where it exists it is not pro
duced by causes which are as exceptional as is the
phenomenon itself .'' But if such is the case, what is
to be done }
Well, a second class of objectors to our programme
would say : " Build mission churches ; hold mission
services ; enrol the villagers in guilds and establish
branch societies in the villages ; set on foot village
libraries, reading-rooms, lectures, Bible-classes, weekly
meetings, &c. These are improvements which can be
effected without any constitutional changes either in
Church or State, and without any disturbance, there
fore, of existing arrangements."
That these fruits of the Church's new-born activity
are extremely effective and highly beneficial, is un
questionable, and it ought to be about the last thing
to enter into the head of any well-wisher of the
Church to undervalue or depreciate the services thus
rendered to her cause. But we are speaking now of
places thinly populated, especially so as regards the
number of available Church workers, such as are
required for the administration of undertakings like
those above mentioned. We are speaking of villages
dotted over the country, hamlets scattered along the
hill-side. As regards places of this kind, no doubt

CHAP. IV RURAL DISSENT 143
the machinery provided by the opportunities referred
to is excellent. But this machinery, in default of
persons to work it, moves but very slowly, even if it
does not come altogether to a standstill. In many
and in an increasing number of rural parishes, the
. clergyman and his family are the only persons who
can be made use of for these purposes. If by a for
tunate circumstance there should be other residents on
the spot, both able. and willing to assist the clergyman
in these matters of parochial organisation, the num
ber of helpers capable of being thus secured is still
relatively a very small one, smaller still when it is
remembered that many of those who offer themselves
are not drawn to the work by any real enthusiasm,
or qualified for it by any special fitness. Yet it
requires both enthusiasm and special qualifications to
make the dry bones of a new-fangled officialism —
for to the rural mind this is how much of what is now
being done appears — assume the character of a living
organisation, the parts of which are helped severally
by their mutual subsistence. The absence then of a
sufficient supply, both in quantity and quality, of
persons devoting themselves to social efforts and
parochial organisation in country districts is, at all
events as matters now stand, an almost fatal draw
back to the successful prosecution of the undertakings
in question.
But if we are so struck by the inadequacy of the
Church's methods, both ordinary and supplemental,
to reinvigorate the starved spiritual life of the English
peasantry, what have we to propose instead .¦" What is
the plan which we have dignified by the name of a
policy and spoken of as the only possible alternative
to the other policy— as we have called it — above
mentioned .' Surely, it will be said, you are not going
to argue that because the Church is weak in these
countiy districts, she should therefore abandon her
own accustomed methods, whether old or new, and
join hands with the Dissenters .'' To this query let it

144 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART II
be at once replied that we do not think that any such
plan is either desirable or practicable. What is
meant by this alternative policy is rather to be con
ceived as follows. Those workers and helpers, the
paucity of whose numbers is the chief cause of the
Church's weakness in villages and hamlets, are often
to be found existing in considerable force amongst
the Dissenters. A chapel anniversaiy or tea-meeting
does not usually fall through for want of a sufficient
amount of local talent to complete the necessary pre
parations. And as men are usually forthcoming for
these and other similar undertakings, so likewise is
money. To take only missionary meetings, the sums
contributed on these occasions iDy quite poor village
Dissenters are often remarkable. Very creditable too
is the energy which provides in connection with each
village chapel a supply of Sunday-school teachers,
however inferior these latter may be in quality. Nor
must we forget the help which has been rendered to
the Temperance cause by Nonconformist village
associations. Now, surely it might be possible for the Church to
recognise, in a more distinct sense than she recognises
at present, the v\'ork which is thus being done, as well
as those by whom it is done. That Churchmen may
take part with Dissenters in works admittedly bene
ficial from a moral or social point of view, is a state
ment frequently made by those who speak or write on
the subject of Church and Dissent. And in our
cities and towns something, though not much, has
been done to realise this programme. At all events,
Anglican clergymen and Nonconformist ministers
are to be found, both in London and other large
towns, speaking on the same platform at public
meetings. But there has been ycvy little of this kind
of thing hitherto in the countr)-. And no doubt it
is difficult to initiate such a policy in a country
parish without being misunderstood. Churchmen are
not unnaturally afraid that they may seem to be

CHAP. IV RURAL DISSENT 145
compromising their Churchmanship in the eyes of
ignorant people, who are unable to distinguish
between points of agreement and points of differ
ence. The mere fact that a considerable time has
passed without any such attempts at common action
having been set on foot, is, in the country, where
precedent and tradition count for so much, a strong
argument against them. No doubt, therefore, in
many cases it would require no ordinary power of
dealing with men to carry through any changes of
this kind to a successful issue. It can, however, as
little be doubted that the thing wants doing, and
likewise that there are no insuperable difficulties in
the way of its accomplishment.
But probably there would be no objection taken by
Churchmen to such a policy {i.e. except as regards
thc practical difficulty of realising it) provided that
the basis of common action was confined strictly to
matters of moral and social concern, and did not
affect any question of principle as between Church
and Dissent. Now everything depends on the sense
in which this limitation is understood ; for it may be
understood in such a sense as practically to nullify
the whole policy here referred to, or it may be under
stood in such a sense as to admit of that policy being
carried out without any impediment. Of course
every clergyman recognises that he ought, and, in
deed, that he is bound, to minister to Dissenters in so
far as they are his parishioners, but the point is
whether he can recognise Dissent and Dissenters as
such, and if so, how far 1
Let us understand the recognition of Dissent as
meaning, in the first place, the clear discrimination
between those who are, and those who are not.
Dissenters. As is well known, the line between the
two is, especially in country parishes, very ill-defined.
Now at first sight it may seem undesirable to en
deavour to make this separation in cases where
people are unwilling to make it for themselves. It
may be thought more liberal, as well as, from the
L

146 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART ll
Church's point of view, more politic, to allow a man
who has not yet declared himself a Dissenter to
remain in a state of nebulousness as to which side he
prefers, and to attend Church and Chapel indiffer
ently. And if the state of mind characteristic of such
persons was really one of uncertainty, there would
no doubt be much to be said for leaving them alone.
But there are two very good reasons why a Church
man who has any influence over these supposed
waverers, should exert that influence in an opposite
direction. The first reason is that, as experience
shows, neutrals are nearly always virtually Dissenters
already. They are merely restrained from calling
themselves Dissenters by some family association, or
by some motive of self-interest, or by a desire to
stand well with both parties. Such being the case,
and the fact being one which would be corroborated
by almost any country clergyman who has been
brought much in contact with Dissenters, it is surely
better that the doubtful quantity should become a
fixed and unvarying one, and that Dissenters in
disguise should declare themselves in their true
character. But another reason for endeavouring to clear up
this uncertainty is, that Churchmen and Dissenters
are much better able to meet each other, and to
understand each other, when all risk is put out of the
way of their contending together for the possession of
a neutral section holding the balance between them.
Not only is the existence of a doubtful quantity in
many cases the cause of opposition between Church
and Chapel, but even where there is nothing of this
kind prevailing, it prevents the two parties from be
coming better friends. Of course there will always be
frequent transferences from the one side to the other,
and in the presence of these latter it would be too
much to expect that there should be no friction. It is
of thc essence of the relationship of Church and
Dissent that perfect friendship between them is not to
be looked for : the most we can expect is a concordat

CHAP. IV RURAL DISSENT 147
or modus vivendi. It may, however, safely be laid
down that far less strain is likel)' to be put upon the
relationship by avowed attachments, whether to the
one side or to the other, than by concealed preferences
disguising themselves under the form of an impartial
neutrality. Having thus stated what we mean by recognition
in this sense, let us next proceed to consider how,
according to the policy we are describing, the Church
ma)' recognise Dissent in country districts so far as to
take advantage of its existence. May not combina
tion be possible between rural Churchmen and
Dissenters in some cases, and even affiliation in
others 1 e.g., combination, in so far as that the Church
might propose to the Chapel, or vice versd, certain
things to be done by them both in common ; certain
evils in the parish which require to be guarded against
and remedied ; certain desirable objects which require
to be promoted t Devotional services held in common
by Churchmen and Dissenters are more difficult,
because in such matters the question as to the form
of prayer and the nature of the services, gives rise to
almost inevitable differences. But it might be possible
to do what Mr. James suggested in his paper at the
Rhyl Church Conference referred to above, viz., to
hold once, or, if it could be managed, more often
in the year, services avowedly designed for the
common participation of Churchmen and Dissenters,
and intended to bring home to them their unity not
only as Christians, but also as members of the same
parish. And then as regards affiliation. This, no doubt, is
a most delicate and thorny matter to discuss. Still
to any unprejudiced mind it is hard to say whether it
must seem more ridiculous or more melancholy, that
there should be, as there so often are, in the same
village. Church and Nonconformist Sunday Schools
existing side by side, and composed of children who
receive precisely the same religious instruction in the
Day School. It may be said, this is all the fault of
L 2

148 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART II
the Dissenters. Perhaps so ; but even so, could not
something in the way of affiliation be attempted ;
there being one Sunday School for the whole parish,
divided into departments, so as to receive the children
of Church and Dissenting parents respectively, and to
instruct them accordingly .'' The same question arises
in a different form with regard to Missionary meet
ings. Could not some arrangement be arrived at
which should unite the Churchmen and Nonconformists
of the parish in support of Missions, both home and
foreign, without doing violence to their consciences ?
There is no space here to indicate the form which
such a scheme might take, and if there were, the
scheme no doubt would be open to many objections.
Yet it is impossible to believe that something might
not be done, if there was a sufficient desire to do it.
It may be urged that there is no such desire, either
on the part of Churchmen, or on that of Dissenters.
As regards the former, there is the evidence of dis
inclination which is afforded by the " Church of
England " prefix to the title of every new society and
association formed of late years for the benefit of the
working classes which has had the support of Church
men. Nor as regards any of the other points
mentioned above, have Churchmen inclined towards
fraternisation with Nonconformists, whilst these latter,
as it is only fair to add, have stiffened themselves,
more especially in country places, in a similar
direction. It must be remembered, however, in
ju.stice both to Church and Dissent, that most of their
respective organisations originated without reference
to the state of things at present existing in rural
districts, and were in fact part of the religious revival,
common to both of them, in the towns. We cannot
tell what changes ma)' result, therefore, from the
greater preoccupation of the best men of all parties
with the neglected interests of countiy life in England
at the present time. It is difficult to imagine that
the outcome of this increased attention to the wants
of the villages, will be to maintain in existence a

CHAP. IV RURAL DISSENT 149
number of separate and independent organisations,
each doing badly a work which, if they were all con
solidated, might be done well.
Two general remarks may be offered in conclusion.
The first is that the possibilities of recognition in this
second sense must depend on the extent to which it is
possible to recognise Dissent in the first sense.
Stated in less technical language, this means, that
where the Dissenters of a country parish have no
definite and organised existence as Dissenters, and
cannot therefore, or can only with great difficulty, be
even recognised as Dissenters, or approached in that
sense, it is impossible to treat seriously the idea of
recognising them in the sense of treating with them
and making advances towards them. An understand
ing between two parties presupposes that each of them
has arrived at that state which metaphysicians call
" thinghood." But in many cases, rural Dissent is no
thing ; it rests on no vestige of principle consciously
preferred by those who profess it ; it has no assured
permanence, but might vanish any day before a new
clergyman, or in the event of two or three leading
village tradesmen being removed from the district.
Now we have recommended above, in cases of un
certainty, the clear discrimination of those who are
from those who are not Dissenters. But probably in
cases where Dissent is only just beginning to invade
a parish, it is better to let it severely alone. Hence,
there are three stages in the progress of rural Dissent
which, if the country parson is sagacious enough to
adjust himself to them, he will treat differently.
There is, first, the stage at which Dissent is inchoate
and invertebrate. In that case, it requires no notice.
There is, next the stage at which it has obtained a
respectable foothold. It should then be the aim of
Churchmen, and indeed of Dissenters likewise, to
endeavour to discriminate clearly between the mem
bers of the two connections. Lastly, there is the stage
at which Dissent has become firmly rooted and per
manently established. When that stage has been

150 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART il
reached, it must inevitably occur to every Churchman,
and likewise, we should say, to every Dissenter
possessed even of the most rudimentary capacity
for statesmanship — that the time has come for setting
on foot some of those attempts at understanding,
arrangement and mutual co-operation which have
been above suggested.
Our second concluding remark is that nothing ' in
this last direction ought to be initiated by individual
clergymen merely on their own responsibility. If
anything is done to place Church and Dissent in
country parishes on a better footing, it should be the
act, if not of the Church of England as a whole, at all
events of some considerable section of that Church,
whether a Diocese, an Archdeaconry, or a Rural
Deanery. The uncertain duration of any one man's
tenure of his incumbency would alone be a sufficient
argument to support this conclusion. Nothing can be
less desirable than for a clergyman to dabble in negotia
tions the results of which, whether salutary or the re
verse, may not be accepted by his successor. Nor is
there any worse dislocation in the history of a parish
than that which arises, when what has been done by
one clergyman is undone by another. But even inde
pendently of this consideration, no changes of the
kind referred to are ever likely to be successful, unless
they are the outcome of a disposition on the part of
Churchmen generally, to enter into new relations with
the Dissenters, more especially in countiy districts.
The mere expression of such a desire by a large and
representative section of Churchmen would soon lead
to its practical realisation, and no one knows better
than the present writer that not even the best devised
and most ably worked out scheme, let alone the
mere suggestions offered above, can produce this
result otherwise.
1 Of course this statement is intended to apply only to radical
changes. That short of this a clergyman may take his own line
as regards the Dissenters, goes without asking.

PART III
THE ALIENATED CLASSES

" Sind nun diese Zustande Zeichen eines allgemeinen Riick-
gang's der Menscheit, oder verbirgt sich in ihnen ein Fort-
schritt, den wir nur zunachst beschaftigt sehen, alte Formen
des religiosen Lebens zu zerbrechen, der uns aber nicht
hoffnungslos iiber einstige Wiedererzeugung neuer lasst ? "
— Hermann Lotze.

CHAPTER I
LIMITATION OF THE INQUIRY
The subjects with which we have thus far been
concerned are of a comparatively definite and limited
nature, though capable of being regarded under a vast
variety of aspects. We now, however, have to do not
with existing and established institutions, but with
sentiments and opinions which, though they often
express themselves in a determinate and intelligible
form, more often remain indefinite and unpronounced,
and require the most patient and careful analysis in
order to be understood. And not merely are these
negative views often vague and indefinite, they are
also in different cases most widely different from each
other. For the divergence from orthodoxy assumes
the most various forms as regards both its nature and
extent ; and, though it is no doubt true that those who ¦
hold orthodox opinions likewise differ widely amongst
themselves, yet in this latter case the differences are
less strongly marked, in proportion as orthodoxy tends
more to uniformit)-. Our present subject then requires
even more than those former ones, that great care
should be taken as regards the particularisation of
those to whom it is intended to refer.
For this purpose, it will be well briefly to consider,
what is the nature of the limitation which we impose on
ourselves by examining into the position of the classes

154 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part hi
in question not as regards Christianity in general, nor
yet as regards the Christian Churches taken together,
but specially as regards the Church of England.
Of course, we shall be obliged to disregard this
limitation, in so far as that it will be necessary to dis
cuss the subject under its more general aspects previous
to narrowing down the consideration of it to the single
head of enquiry above referred to. Nevertheless, our
idtimate object is to determine the relation of negative
opinion to the Church of England, and therefore, as
we just novi' said, the question arises as to the nature
and extent of this limitation. Now, obviously the
Church of England and other religious denominations
stand in many respects on the same footing as regards
those who deny, or who are indifferent to, the Christian
faith in its received form. Churchmen and Noncon
formists profess to maintain in common a certain
residuum of belief which, though probably incapable of
being defined to the satisfaction of all the parties con
cerned, is yet, so far as it goes, a very real uniting
bond between them as against those who are other
wise minded. Most Christian believers would regard
even this mode of statement as inadequate ; they
would prefer to say that, quite independently of their
being or not being members of different denominations,
there was a truth accepted by them in common.
At the same time, though all Christians stand
theoretically on the same footing as regards those who
are not Christians (or who are assumed not to be such),
each society of Christians, each Church and each
religious denomination, exhibits itself to those outside
its pale in some peculiar way, and elicits a reaction
correspondingly peculiar in each case. It is no mere
difference in the externals of doctrine or ritual which
is the cause of the different impressions thus produced
and of the different reactions thus occasioned. To
all such merely external differences between religious
denominations, the undenominationalists and antide-
nominationalists are for the most part blind. These

CHAP. I LIMITATION OF THE INQUIRY 155
classes of men do not, as is sometimes supposed,
become what they are owing to their observation of
the differences and inconsistencies existing between
rival sects and parties, each of which claims the name
of Christian. That observation leads more often not to
denominational indifferentism, but to Romanism (or
at least to some system based on an extreme assertion
of authority), and it has been with a view to facilitating
this latter result, that apologists of the Church of Rome
have alwa)'s laid special stress on the " variations " of
Protestantism. On the other hand, the men we are
referring to, think more of the likeness than of the
differences amongst those from whom they are them
selves parted. They are indeed often more alive to
the existence of a common element amongst orthodox
Christians, than these latter are alive to it themselves,
and the fact that orthodox Christians disagree on
minor points amongst themselves, is to them quite
secondary to the fact that all orthodox Christians are
agreed on the fundamental points of their religion as
against those who are not orthodox. Hence, it is not
the differences between religious denominations, as
these differences are ordinarily understood, which we
require to bear in mind in considering the relation
of an)' given denomination to the classes in question.
But there is over and above these commonly assigned
differences, and far more important than any of them,
a peculiar way of presenting religious truth distinctive
of each Christian society or Church, and which gives
to each such society its character in the eyes of out
siders. Now in respect of persons who have been brought
up altogether undenominationally (who, however,
amongst the educated classes are relatively few in
number), the character of each Christian denomina
tion, qua its particular manner of presenting religious
truth, is a matter of trifling importance. In such cases,
all denominations are commonly lumped together as
equally deluded, and the only difference recognised

156 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part hi
between them is the more or less reactionary attitude
assumed by some of them in comparison with others.
Nor again in respect of persons alienated — whether for
mally or in spirit — from some one or other of the Non
conformist societies by reason of divergences in respect
of theological belief, is the character of the denomina
tion in question, qua its manner of presenting religious
truth, a matter to which as a rule great importance
attaches, however much it may do so in some cases.
On the other hand, the alienation from the Church of
England, on theological or anti-theological grounds,
does not necessarily, or usually, involve the withdrawal
of all interest in the Church's manner of presenting
religious truth on the part of the persoAs so alienated.
There are two reasons for this.
(i) The breadth, comprehensiveness, and inde-
terminateness of the Church's terms of communion
(her articles and formularies), not less than her
practical liberality as regards the enforcement of
those terms. Not that, on the strength of these con
siderations, the theologically alienated classes imagine
that there is now, or that by any hocus-pocus of
Church Reformers there is likely to be, room enough
for themselves within the Church's theological
boundaries. If they thought that, they would not
remain in a state of alienation. Still, though no idea
of that kind is entertained by these classes — at all
events with regard to the present generation — they
cannot lose their sympathy towards an institution
which meets them in so many respects half way,
which is never one-sided, and which if, on the
contrary, approximating too closely to a mere loose
and haphazard combination of divergent tendencies,
may yet for that very reason be placed in a unique
position for reconciling what now seem opposites.
Yet at this point it must be observed, that the
sympathy of these classes on these grounds towards
the Church of England, is reserved for the more
general and more old-fashioned conception of the

CHAP. I LIMITATION OF THE INQUIRY 157
Church, rather than for the recent manifestations of
Anglicanism resulting from the Oxford Movement.
The Church of England, as formed on this latter
model, is regarded by alienated Churchmen with the
same indifference which is felt by alienated Dissenters
towards the denomination from which THEY have
come out. This, however, is only in passing.
(2) The ethical influence which the Church of
England does not cease to exercise on those who have
become alienated from her in matters of belief This
of course is far greater in the case of the Church of
England than in that of any other English ecclesi
astical institution, in proportion as the Church extends
further and is more deeply rooted, and in proportion
as the associations which attach to the Church are
more attractive, more varied, and more national than
any others which can be brought into comparison
with them by other religious communions.
It is then under these two heads that the manner
of presenting religious truth characteristic of the
Church of England, discloses itself to those who have
become alienated from her communion on theological
or anti-theological grounds. These are the two
sources from which the influence of the Church of
England in respect of such persons is derived. Here
therefore we have an answer to the question we asked
at starting as regards " the nature of the limitation we
impose on ourselves by examining into the position of
the classes in question, specially as regards the Church
of England." The limitation consists in this, that the
two above-named considerations must always more or
less enter into the discussion of the relationship exist
ing between the Church and the classes alienated from
her. Consequently, these two essential characteristics
of the relationship will constantly assert themselves
in the course of what follows.
It is time however now to enquire more particularly
of whom these theologically alienated or disaffected
classes are composed.

158 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART ill
Conceivably, the description of these classes might
begin either from that point where the separation
from orthodox Christianity has reached its furthest
limits, or it might begin from the opposite side and
consider first, the case of those who are least far re
moved from orthodoxy, consistently with the fact that
they are removed from it. There are advantages in
both methods, but we intend here to confine ourselves
to the second. Before, however, going further, let us
explain what we mean by the difference between
" those who have gone furthest " and " those who have
gone least far." By the first class, we do not mean
necessarily those persons whose opinions are the most
extreme, nor by the second class do we mean neces
sarily those persons who hold opinions only slightly
at variance with traditional beliefs. Those who have
gone furthest, those who are the most advanced, we
rather understand to be those whose negative opinions
are the most thought out and formulated, whose con
clusions are most the result of personal observation
and reflection. It does not follow that because a
man's negative position is in this sense more ad
vanced, it is therefore in the other sense more
" advanced" than negative opinion in general. That
may or may not be so ; but it is not so necessarily,
nor is it as a matter of fact always the case.
We propose then to start from negative opinion in
general, the opinion of ordinary men of education,
whose views tend in a negative direction. The class
of men to whom we refer are those who have at least
some tincture of culture, and who, both on personal
and public grounds, are interested in religious
questions, though they are without any special know
ledge either of theology or natural science. The
growing alienation of this class of men is a far more
significant, and a far more serious, consideration at the
present time than is either the practical heathenism
of large sections among the working classes, on the
one hand, or than the anti-orthodox opinions of

CHAP. I LIMITATION OF THE INQUIRY 159
philosophers and men of science on the other. F"or
in the first of these two cases, it is not a question of
Christianity losing its hold, it is merely that the hold
has never been obtained — a very different and much
less grave symptom. On the other hand, in the case
of the philosophers and men of science (those of them,
i.e., who are in this state of alienation) no doubt the
hold has been lost, and lost more completely than in
the case of the class of men whose divergence from
orthodoxy we are about to discuss. But then the
superior persons who proclaim their antagonism to
received opinions in the magazines and newspapers,
are not without other supports — real or supposed —
whereas the class of men with whom we are con
cerned are either without any alternative compensa
tion, or are at any rate comparatively so. Besides,
we know " where we are," and know also what line to
take as regards negations which have found articulate
expression, and which, emanating as they do from a
scientific source, ought always to be, even if they are
not always, definite and precise. But the alienated
classes whom we are considering, are both much less
conscious of the reasons of their alienation, and much
less able to formulate their reasons, even so far as
they are conscious of them. In their case, as we shall
presently see, the dominant characteristic is far more
a state of mind than it is a form of thought, and
therefore it is much more difficult than it is in the
other case to estimate its extent and to appreciate its
significance. But what, on more historical grounds, makes the
alienation of the class of men referred to so especially
to be regretted, is the fact that they are, by their
traditions and associations, the class most fitted to
form the backbone of the Church of England. There
have never been wanting, since the Reformation,
persons from amongst the literary and scientific
classes to attack the theological position of the
Church of England, though such persons have never

i6o THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part hi
been so numerous or so influential as they are now.
On the other hand, there has never been a time when
there have not been large masses of the people' who
have been unevangelised. But here we have men
who do not belong to the literary and scientific
classes on the one hand, or to the uneducated or
even to the only half educated classes on the other ;
and yet such men, who are the peculiar property of
the Church and have never before been alienated
from her, are nowadays in a large and increasing
number of cases. Churchmen who have lost faith in
the Church's theology.

CHAPTER II
THE PRESENT STATE OF ALIENATION
Now, it is important to bear in mind the agency by
which in most cases this result has been produced.
This agenc)' in most cases is not negative criticism at
first hand, but rather the popular medium through
which original inquiries of this negative kind are
conveyed to ordinary unthinking men and women.
^^'e say nothing at present as to how far the popular
representation of negati\-e scientific opinion is faithful
or the reverse ; we are simply asserting what will be
admitted b)- ever)- one, viz. : — that even moderately
well-educated men, not to mention men of little or no
education, do not in most cases come face to face with
the negations of science (or of that which calls itself
by this name) but are made acquainted with them at
second hand. We call this agency or medium of
communication — without intending anything invidious
by the name — popular knowledge — not merely as
contained in books or magazine articles, but also as
diffused through social intercourse. For in the
present day popular knowledge acts almost more as
a social than as an intellectual influence ; what it
does to stimulate thought is perhaps less than what
it does to render life in society interesting and
agreeable. Nothing indeed is more characteristic of
the present state of society than the extent to which
even the most serious subjects have come to assume a
M

i62 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part lli
popular form. It is a fact which is seldom treated
with the consideration it deserves. We have no time
now to attempt to estimate its significance, but we
repeat, it is not our intention to speak of this fact
slightingly or mockingly, or to do more than simply
to recognise its existence and to do justice to its
gravity and importance.
In recent years, then, popular knowledge has made
vast advances, and has at once promoted social inter
course and been promoted by it. It is not merely
that science, literature and philosophy have become
more easily and cheaply accessible, but there is
naturally now more variety in the personal experiences
— both theoretical and practical — of the members of
society, and hence more both of profit and of pleasure
to be derived from engaging in social intercourse.
It would, however, be a great mistake to suppose
that this new attitude to knowledge in our own times
has anything in common with that rationalismus
vulgaris which was the most marked intellectual
characteristic of the last century. That was an
attempt to test the worth of knowledge by the rule of
common-sense, the presumption being that knowledge
which did not admit of the application of this test
was an illusion, or, at best, an " enthusiasm." No
such view is entertained now as regards the test of
true knowledge, except by the ignorant. Not only
are the poetry and philosophy, the art and science of
our own days much less susceptible than were the
equivalent products a century ago of a so-called
common-sense interpretation, but it is not now
expected that this should be otherwise ; it is not now
demanded that knowledge should be debased, but
rather that men should be raised.
And besides that since the eighteenth century
the higher knowledge has become intrinsically less
popular, the public to whom it is presented, though
far larger now than it was then, is for this very reason
less educated and less capable therefore of making

chap, ii the PRESENT STATE OF ALIENATION 163
this knowledge its own. That limited society of
the ruling classes, so powerfully described in
Trevelyan's Life of Charles fames Fox, in which
every one knew all about every one else, in which each
man occupied a recognised position, and in which the
attainments and information of each man were
dictated to him by the prevailing social tone, has
partly ceased to exist, but still more, so far as it does
exist, is insignificant in its relative proportions.
Instead of that, we have now vast populations of
men, the most variously endowed in character and
circumstance, divided into different sections, each
struggling under the conditions of partial development
for a larger measure of light and for a higher degree
of life. Hence, the aim now is to democratise the
contents of knowledge, which, however, is very
different from saying that knowledge is only to be
valued in so far as it is knowable to the ordinary
uninformed man.
What then is the significance for our present
purpose of this fact .'' the fact, viz., that the ideas of
most people on most subjects — more especially as
regards what are called ultimate truths — come to
them by steps usually more than once removed from
their original sources 1
In considering this question, it will not be necessary
to discuss the value of the current popular negative
teaching in itself, but only the nature of its effects on
the public mind. We are not called on to go behind
this teaching or to compare it with teaching of a
higher kind. We take our departure from the
existence of a negative, or a negatively disposed, body
of opinion in society, which is at once the product and
the exciting cause of a negative popular literature.
Whatever may be the teaching of science strictly
so-called, there can be no doubt that the prevailing
literary interpretation of science is more often than
not hostile to the received religion, and is not easily
reconcilable even with natural religion in the sense in

l64 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part lit
which that phrase has hitherto been commonly under
stood. Men of letters who undertake to explain the
bearing of science on religion to men in general, for
the most part represent the relation as consisting in
an antagonism, or at least in an opposition which
requires that radical changes should take place in the
popular conception of religion before it can be made
to disappear. Sometimes these men of letters are
also authoritative men of science ; sometimes they
are merely, in a general sense, accurate investigators
and conscientious interpreters, though without any
special knowledge of physical science. Sometimes,
on the other hand, they are mere men of straw, who
no more deserve to be trusted than do many of the
apologists who write on the other side. Our point is,
that popular literary science — whatever may be the
case as regards science strictly so-called — is at the
present time, to a great extent, anti-orthodox. And
the same may be said likewise not indeed of society
as a whole, but of a large section of society, to whom
this negative literature is addressed and by whose
wants it has been suggested.
We take our start then from this body of negative
opinion, both as it finds expression in popular
literature and in the intercourse of men with each
other. (i) Let us first attempt to determine what are the
kinds of questions in regard to which the disturbing
and unsettling effects of this influence most make
themselves felt.
We notice then that it is not so much that the
Christian religion is now directly attacked either on
its historical or its dogmatic side (though it is attacked
under both these aspects) as that the necessary
presuppositions not only of this, but of any and every,
religion are, if not denied, at least called in question.
For it cannot be too strongly insisted that it is this
general doubt, and not any more specific allegations
destructive of orthodoxy, which in recent times has

CHAP. II THE PRESENT STATE OF ALIENATION 165
most seized hold ofthe public mind. Mere heretical
objections to the received contents of Christianity do
not now excite nearly so much interest in Europe
generally as they once did. We see this transfer of
interest from the particular to the general illustrated
in many ways. One such illustration is the fact that
orthodox writers have latterly shown themselves
much more sensible than they once were, of the
necessity of vindicating the essential reality of men's
spiritual and intelligent nature, and this has led them
to take advantage of contemporary idealistic specula
tions, even when the authors of these latter have
not been themselves orthodox, or in any received
sense Christian believers. There is thus something
like an alliance on foot amongst persons who
otherwise differ from each other most widely, on
behalf of the general interests of spiritual truth.
This tendenc)' has been, as might be expected, most
strongly marked in Germany ; Edward von Hart-
mann, for instance, adduces the reliance placed
by the faithful in Germany on the speculative
Christianity of Messrs. Biedermann, Pfleiderer, and
Lipsius, as a reason for his demolishing these
theologians, who to many Christians would seein
little better than unbelievers, as Hartmann indeed
considers that they in fact are.' And, similarly, the
apologetic value of Lotze's philosophy has been
widely recognised both in and out of Germany, in
spite of his rejection of most of what would once have
been thought essential to a believer in the Christian
faith. We have no time to give further instances of
this tendency which exists, though to a less extent,
also in England.
As another proof of the same position, viz., that
these general questions, and not the particular ones,
are now the most popular, we may notice that textual
' Or rather we ought to say that in Hartmann's judgment,
this is the tendency of their views. C. P. Krisis der Christen-
thum^s Vorwort.

i66 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part hi
and historical criticism on the negative side has
latterly been weak and has been becoming weaker.
Surely this would not be so, if the public cared much
about negative evidence of this kind. Yet that such
is the case, will appear to any one who considers how
little work of any real value in these departments has
for some time past been done on the negative side
either in England or in Germany. In England, the
matter and text of the Bible are now treated with more
abilit)', and have had more light thrown on them, by
orthodox critics than by their opponents ; and though
of Germany we certainly cannot say so much as this,
yet there has been no German work of genius on the
negative side now for many year past in these depart
ments, and the best negative criticism in that country
has rather occupied itself in testing the results ar
rived at (as it believes, prematurely and on a priori
speculative grounds) by Baur and Strauss than in
making any original contribution of its own.
The fact is that these questions, though they
were never more interesting than they are now to
scholars, are increasingly regarded by the public
not indeed with indifference, but as overshadowed
by other questions which require to be answered pre
viously. For what the ordinary man wants is a
working hypothesis by which to justify to himself the
facts of existence. This consists commonly of the
simplest elements, though it does not follow that
because this is so, other beliefs confirmatory of, or in
volved in, the primary postulates, may not be held in
addition. According to " a celebrated Roman Cath
olic Divine of the present day," as quoted by Dean
Stanlc)',' the popular religion of the people of Eng
land, is made up of " a general belief in Providence
and in a future life." Whether or not this description
holds good to the extent thus supposed, there can be
no doubt that it does so in a large number of cases.
1 Christian Institutions, article on "The Catacombs," ad
initium.

CHAP. II THE PRESENT STATE OF ALIENATION 167
Now, these simple elements of belief are precisely
those which negative science of the popular kind has
called in question, whilst, on the other hand, the dan
ger to those beliefs arising from negative historical
criticism of the New Testament does not seem to be
nearly so great as that arising from the mechanical
and materialistic view of the universe. Negative criti
cism has in fact shifted its centre of attraction from
these and other like questions to the consideration of
man's nature and destiny, as conceived in the light of
what science teaches. And in taking this step, nega
tive popular science has carried with it the negatively
disposed portion of the general public which is absorb
ingly and increasingly interested in the problems thus
presented to its notice.
The present state of negative and sceptical opinion
then, is due to doubts which have been raised as re
gards the first principles of religion. We wish to be
understood in what follows as being concerned only
with those persons whose doubts are of this kind.
We have in view only the case of those who find a
difficulty in assenting to the presuppositions in
volved equally in all forms of religious belief It will
perhaps be said that in England at any rate the alien
ation from orthodoxy is seldom of this radical kind.
We prefer, however, as throughout, so here, to go to
the bottom of the state of mind we are attempting
to describe. A tendency of thought, as we have before
remarked, must be judged by its ultimate issue, so far
as this can be determined. We prefer also not to re
gard" English opinion altogether apart from general
European opinion with which it stands in much
closer connection than we are many of us apt to
suppose. Yet, on the other hand, it is no doubt true that few
of those about whom we are writing have proceeded
to such extreme lengths of self-conscious and self-
assured denial as might be inferred from our descrip
tion. We are depicting not a set of opinions, but a state

i68 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part hi
of mind. This state of mind takes partial possession
of many persons long before they are regarded, or have
come to regard themselves, as unbelievers, perhaps
even without any such result being involved. Nor in
the case of others of this class who have gone further,
is there necessarily any conscious declaration of the
extent of their divergence from orthodox Christianity.
Those who talk loudest in this sense are often not
those who are the most really infected. We do not of
course mean that there is not, on the part of many per
sons of this class, a realisation of what has taken place
in their own minds and a corresponding form of be
haviour recognisable as such by others. We mean that
this tendency of thought is much too subtle in its
influence to be gauged merely by observing men's out
ward professions and the opinion formed of them by
the religious public. Few indeed of those who make
use of the term " Agnosticism," and who inveigh
against its supposed tenets, are aware how delicate
and sensitive is this disposition, when it appears, not in
its vulgarly asserted form (in which it is commonly an
affectation), but in that form which it assumes amongst
the best men of the class we are now considering.
This, however, suggests to us to examine into the next
question raised by our inquiry — viz. (2), as regards the
nature of the influence thus exercised, and as regards
the way in which this influence makes itself felt.
It is remarked by Mr. Percy Greg that " the
character of unbelief, agnosticism — whatever term
may least offensively describe that of whose diffusion
we are all conscious — has greatly changed of late. It
rests more and more on grounds intelligible to, but
not appreciable by, the general public ; upon reasons
whose force they can feel, but whose truth they can
not judge, whose exact weight they cannot measure."
Mr. Greg makes this remark in order to draw infer
ences from it as to the untrustworthiness of the
opinions of men in general on religious subjects. We
refer here to what he says, not so much in order to

chap, ii the PRESENT STATE OF ALIENATION 169
draw inferences of this kind as rather to comment on
the chief characteristic of the fact itself
Mr. Greg well sums up what this is, when he
describes it as consisting in a feeling rather than in an
intellectual judgment. Not that the facts accumulated
by men of science in recent times have not, simply as
facts, made a deep impression on the public mind.
Quite apart from the conclusions drawn from them,
the truths of science are seen now to have an abiding-
value in a way in which this has never been seen
before. At the same time, though this better ap
preciation of the value of facts as such prevails and is
on the increase, the public is still, as of old, absorbed
chiefly not in knowledge itself, but in the application
of knowledge to the problems of man's nature and
destiny. So much is this the case that in respect to
certain large conclusions of science, men's thoughts
— both on the orthodox side and its opposite —
have gone far beyond the mere consideration as to
whether the facts alleged are or are not true ; their
main concern now is not with the truth of the
conclusions, but with the consequences which follow
from them, supposing them to be true Thus the
most recent attempts to harmonise religion and science
(as the phrase runs), viz., Matheson's " Can the Old
Faith live with the Nezv ? Temple's Bampton Lectures,
Drummond's Natural Law in the Spiritual World,
all propose to themselves the question, not " Is evolu
tion a fact .¦* " but, granting that evolution is a fact, what
then .?
Now, this mode of procedure no doubt results
partly from a belief, universal on the negative side,
and wide-spread even amongst the orthodox, that the
conclusions of science are in the main true ; partly again
it is due to the reason assigned by Dr. Matheson ' viz.,
that " the personal determination of the truth or fallacy
of scientific statements of facts is beyond him (the
theologian />.), and investigation in this sphere is
1 Can the Old Faith live with the New ? p. 18.

I70 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part III
therefore to him impossible." But as regards the public
generally there is a still more powerful reason, or, we
should rather say, a still more powerful feeling by
which this method is recommended to those who adopt
it. The reason or feeling to which we refer is the
difficulty, if not the impossibility, of conducting an
argument, either for or against the religious view of
the universe, by successive steps, and of admitting
that the evidence at each point justifies just so much
amount of assent and no more. It is sometimes
said that we are under no obligation to accept the
conclusions of science, especially in connection with
such a matter as religion, until the evidence for
them has been fully confirmed. This is no doubt up
to a certain point true ; no one would think of
endorsing all the ra.sh and hasty speculations which
are from time to time advanced in the name of
science. But it is impossible for the mind not to be
influenced by the investigations on which it enters ;
it is impossible for it not to see a whole world of
new contingencies suggested by each fact brought
to its notice ; it is impossible for it not to be con
scious of the direction it is making for, long before
its goal is reached. Even practised men of science
succumb to this temptation, though of course to a
slight extent in comparison with amateurs. These
latter see far beyond what they are taught at each
stage ; their minds are filled by all sorts of vague
and confiicting feelings, for which science as such
is not responsible ; they construct out of the given
materials a philosophy and a poetiy of their own
imagination. This is the mode of apprehension, the
feeling of which Mr. Greg speaks.
Now if this is true generally as regards the effect
produced on the popular consciousness by the an
nouncement of far-reaching scientific conclusions, how
much more is the same tendency likel)' to show itself,
when the question comes to be not as to science in
general, but as to science in its relation to religion.

CHAP. II THE PRESENT STATE OF ALIENATION 171
When once the foundations of religion seem not to be
safe, those who are impressed by this sense cannot
resist the influence of suspicions which carry them far
beyond the points as to which they are at present in
doubt. They feel that the battle is lost, or at all
events that it zvill be lost when science has become
sufficiently organised to make its final assault. This
feeling is part of the stock experience of hundreds of
moderately well-educated men who, so far from having
any predisposition against the faith in which they
have been brought up, would gladly come to terms
with that faith, if they could see their way to do so.
Such foregone conclusions and such counsels of
despair, it may be said, are irrational and unjusti
fiable. It may be so, but it is the way of human
nature, especially in such a deep matter as religion,
to act under the influence of instinct and unconscious
conviction rather than on grounds of pure reason.
At all events, if, as Dr. Newman and others who have
followed in his footsteps are so fond of inculcating,
the process by which a position of assent is arrived
at is more subtle than logic, it would be unfair to
deny that this may be so also with those whose course
has been in an opposite direction.
This new view then, working more by the subtle
power of suggestiveness than by the force of its
arguments, has intruded itself into men's thoughts on
quite ordinary things, making itself felt even in their
social life and moral conduct. The two chief charac
teristics of the state of mind thus produced may be
briefly summed up as follows : —
{a) The effect of this popular science is, as regards
religion, a shock, and it has little or no compensation
in other directions. It does not stand in any way en
rapport with religion, and in this respect is very
different from the effects produced by the anti-
orthodox philosophies and theologies of former times.
These latter have been very often, indeed almost
always, the outcome of popular religious thought,

172 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part hi
which has found in them a correction of its own one
sidedness. But the objections now urged against
orthodoxy at all events appear, though we by no
means say that they are in fact, simply and purely
destructive. Hence no reformation by means of those
agencies is regarded as possible.
On the other hand, the view of the universe sub
stituted for the view familiar to the popular conscious
ness, has no independent power of producing a
religious effect on the men whose state we are de
scribing. It may, no doubt, produce some such effect
on the trained man of science, though even in that
case the effect actually produced has by some recent
writers been probably much exaggerated, as, e.g., by
the author of Natural Religion. But whatever may
be the case as regards the man of science, strictly so-
called, the ordinary religious consciousness finds little
or nothing consolatory to itself in the scientific point
of view as popularly presented. Nor is much more
comfort derived from the often-repeated assurance,
that in relation to the hopes and fears of religion
science is neutral. For, as has been truly said,
" a system of nature complete in everything but the
momentous questions of its origin and support, is of
itself suggestive of these being still unsettled points."'
{f) But though this state of mind has no positive
religious content, though the supposed scientific objec
tions by which it is infiuenced are neither capable of
being themselves used in the service of the traditional
religion, nor yet of producing independently a
religious effect, it is equally true on the other hand
that, regarded on its formal side, or, in other words,
with reference to the aims, motives and aspirations to
which it owes its origin, it is not only animated by
a religious tendency, but is ahnost entirely of this
nature. Its interest in the facts of science is, if not
exclusively, at all events predominantly, a religious
1 Church Quarterly Rcvic-w, article on " Science and Relig
ion." Oct. 1S75.

cHap. II THE PRESENT-STATE OF ALIENATION 173
interest. And yet this is not what seems to be the case
to the religious consciousness itself when thus cut
adrift from its old moorings. To a man whose relig
ious beliefs have been thus shaken it appears as if
this result was due to his having become possessed by
the spirit and method of science ; he fancies that it is
in the interests of scientific truth that he has felt him
self compelled to relinquish his previous convictions.
What really happens in such cases is, not that a
knowledge of scientific facts and laws has disturbed
the foundations of religious belief, but rather that the
religious consciousness is unable to find in the idea
which it forms to itself oi science a place for religion.
Men do not, in fact, form to themselves an idea of what
science teaches, and then compare this with what
religion teaches. They do not independently investi
gate the conclusions of science, nor, it need hardly be
said, have they any capacity for doing so. What they
rather do is to start from the religious side ; their way
of formulating the question is, given the truths of
religion, what has science to say to them .''
That men in general should adopt this method is
perhaps not wonderful, but it certainly is a matter
both for surprise and for legitimate complaint that this
same method should be pursued by scientific teachers
of the public when they trench on religious subjects.
It makes no difference whether these teachers write
on the orthodox side, or, as is most often the case, in
the interests of religious radicalism. If at starting
they envisage the facts of science under a religious
aspect, if in reference to this or that religious interest
they begin by urging that science has or has not any
thing to say, or that science is neutral, those who
adopt this method, no matter what may be the nature
of the conclusions arrived at in each case, are guilty
in limine of an unscientific act of procedure. For it
makes all the difference with regard to anything, from
what point of view it is investigated. Conceive what
would be the result if ethical questions were always

174 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART IH
regarded from an aesthetic point of view, or vice versd,
or if poetry was always criticised with reference to its
correspondence, or want of correspondence, with literal
truth of fact ! Yet something very like this happens
in the case before us.
It is true, no doubt, as we have before remarked,
that the public generally, and not least of all that
portion of the public with whom we are here con
cerned, set a much higher value now on facts verifiable
by science than they once did. Their standard of what
constitutes scientific truth has been perceptibly raised.
So far, it may no doubt be urged that we are speak
ing of men whose position is really a scientific one.
But science in this sense is a mere negative abstrac
tion, which can only be used in relation to religion
in order to show, either that as religious and scientific
truth are not the same and cannot be proved in the
same way, they are therefore mutually destructive, or
else that though not mutually destructive, they occupy
essentially different and distinct spheres. Whereas,
the point to be observed is that what we call the
religious point of view and what we call the scientific
point of view ma)' be really indifferent, and perhaps
even opposed, to each other, so long as we contem
plate the world only on these its two extreme sides,
instead of gradually and without prejudgment, making
our way from the two extremities to the centre, and
thus at the same time more and more embracing
the spiritual totality of the universe, whflst drawing
out its separate parts into ever-increasing distinctness.
It would be beyond the limits of our present subject
to attempt to explain further the nature of this prob
lem. Our only contention now is that, though the
view of the ordinary religious man in his state of
alienation from religion may be up to a certain point
scientific, yet that he has no means of determining
his position, except from the point of view of his
cast-off religious associations ; the consequence of
which is that his science becomes distorted at the

cHap. II THE PRESENT STATE OF ALIENATION 175
same time that his religion is not rehabilitated.
And, as we have already seen, even the scientific
teachers of the public accommodate themselves to
this same habit of thought when they discuss relig
ious subjects, or, as is sometimes the case, themselves
labour under the same delusion. Hence, it is no
mere paradox that the cause of religion often suffers
from the over-religiousness of those by whom it is
assailed ; or, as we should rather say, the cause of
religion suffers from the unscientific religiousness of
those who speak in the name of science. And yet
it is far more than a compensation on the other side
that the religious consciousness is so firmly rooted,
and displays its strength even under such discourag
ing circumstances.

CHAPTER III
COUNTERACTING INFLUENCES
Such, then, being the nature of the negative in
fluence brought to bear on persons of this class, we
turn now to consider what, in spite of the disturbance
and unsettlement thus effected, is the force of sym
pathy, sometimes revealed, but more often latent and
unconscious of itself, which still in many ways, more
especially by moral and spiritual ties, unites those
who are thus affected to their old faith.
Our best course at this point will perhaps be to
give a short historical retrospect of the recent progress
of this whole tendency, considered both under its
negative, and also under its sympathetic and appre
ciative relationships with the orthodox religion.
Dividing, then, the period which has elapsed since
i860 into two halves, we should say that during the
first half of this period the tendency in the ascendant
was towards a development of the negative or purely
intellectual element, inclining those of whom we are
now treating to a spirit of revolt. Whether it was
through their being sustained by a deeper faith, or
simply from the light-heartedness of ignorance, there
was during the sixties and early seventies a great
increase in the number of persons disaffected towards
the old religion, and this was largely in consequence
of the spread ofthe new scientific opinions which were

chap. Ill COUNTERACTING INFLUENCES 177
then just beginning to penetrate through to the
upper stratum of popular thought.
For whatever may be thought about these matters
now, there can be no doubt that at that time evolution
and the Darwinian theory were popularly regarded as
anti-Christian and even as anti-religious. On these
grounds, as most of us can remember, an attack was
then made on Darwinism and all its works by
orthodox teachers and preachers, and the same
feeling found expression in the popular religious
literature of the period. This feeling of opposition
did not, however, last long ; certainly it soon wore
itself out in the Church of England. The reason for
this perhaps was that these new tendencies of thought
were more productive of unbelief than of schism, and,
as has been well remarked " the Church of England has
always been more particular about practical unity in
Church worship than about doctrinal uniformity, about
schismatic heresy rather than unbelief" ' The Church,
in fact, dropped its antagonism (which it has since
explained away altogether) to the new teaching, and
proceeded to meet unbelief by intensifying the bond
of religious and ecclesiastical union between believers.
All this has been described, as has likewise the
difficulty which prevented the Dissenters from doing
the same thing.
The years then — say between i860 and 1874 —
were marked by a breaking away from the old faith
on the grounds above assigned. It was during this
period and owing to these causes, that theological
liberalism within the Churches came to seem to many
of those who had previously professed it wholly
inadequate and untenable. It was this same cause
operating at the same time which evolved, as it were
by the force of antagonism, that new Catholic tendency
within the Church of England on which we have
already said so much. It is in reference to this period
and to this tendency of thought that Principal
' Dorner, History of Protestant Theology, ii. 63. N

178 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part ill
Tulloch — a writer not given to over-strong language —
thus delivers himself: "The conflict of opinion passed
in the main away from such topics as had hitherto
arrayed on different sides Evangelical, High Church,
and Broad Church to far more fundamental questions
— the lines of which are not too strongly marked as
theistic on the one hand, and atheistic on the other."
And yet novel and startling as this new teaching un
doubtedly seemed at the time. Churchmen were prob
ably more attracted by it than they would have been
by any new departure in religion or theology emanating
from a more orthodox quarter. Not that in any
rational sense it convinced them ; that would have
been impossible for them with such slight knowledge.
The effect on some was superficial. Others became
aware that here certainly was a difficulty, though
they did not understand much about it. Others again
were immensely interested in what science taught,
whilst what the Churches taught seemed " stale, flat,
and unprofitable." A last class passed into that state
of inability, rather than unwillingness, to believe,
which has since become more fully developed, and
on which we have already sufficientl)' enlarged. We
are speaking of the alienation of the average educated
man ; there were of course those who went deeper and
whose convictions were of a different kind. We are
not concerned with these latter, but only with popular
thought — though with popular thought under its more
educated aspects.
During the last eighteen or twenty years, however,
there has been a noticeable difference. Not that it
can be truthfully said that amongst the educated
classes there has been less of that intellectual
alienation from the received faith which has been
alrcad)- described. During this subsequent period, it
must be confessed, the seceders have not returned to
the fold of orthodo.xy, and in some respects they have
wandered even further away from it than they had
done in the previous period i860- 1874. But though the

CHAP. Ill COUNTERACTING INFLUENCES 179
intellectual alienation has not become less marked,
there has quite recently been much more sympathy
with the orthodox position on other grounds. This
latter tendency has no doubt been partly occasioned
by the fear of revolutionary excess and by the
consequent reaction, general throughout Europe, in
favour of established forms. The political view that
after all we cannot do without religion, is an
expression of this fear and of this reaction. But it is
something much deeper than any mere desire to
retain religion in the interests of good government,
which is at the bottom of the changed attitude
towards the Churches of those who have departed from
them. If there is one feeling which more than any
other is impressed on all recent literature and
philosophy, it is ennui and dissatisfaction with the
things of this world and an infinite sense of the
sadness of life without religion. Men have not yet
found what they want in modern society, in spite of
its marvellous power of adjusting itself to the con
venience of each of its members, in spite of its
popularly diffused knowledge and easily obtained
pleasures. Life in such a society, no doubt, makes
men more sympathetically disposed towards each
other, it enables them to exchange ideas, it engenders
a spirit of toleration, it promotes kindliness and
courteousness of behaviour — in a word, it exercises a
humanising infiuence of the healthiest kind, both by
emancipating men from their own small circle of
ideas, and by bringing them into contact with the
larger life of the world. And yet the feelings thus
called into activity do not usually take deep root in
the moral nature ; men do not thus become really
sympathetic towards each other, but rather simply
appreciative of what each brings to the common stock,
or at most, mildly amiable.
Nor must we forget the even less favourable side of
the picture — ^the " shams " and " snobs " with whom
the generation of moralists just gone by have made
N 2

i8o THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part ill
US so familiar. Nay, have we not ourselves seen men
transformed into something quite different from what
they really are .' men who have sold themselves in
order to find favour with the world ? men who have
assumed — no matter whether consciously or uncon
sciously — a manner and tone and bearing not their
own, in deference to wl-iat they suppose is required of
them by society .¦¦
And again, it is of the very essence of our modern
social intercourse that, in order to be fully enjoyed, it
requires a constant and quick succession of persons
associated together for the time being, not necessarily
or usually on terms of intimacy, but merely for the
sake of imparting information and supplying enter
tainment ; and it is obvious that these conditions are
not furnished by life in the family circle, or even by
the acquaintanceship — more or less familiar — which
arises between men from the mere fact of their
dwelling in the same neighbourhood and having
common local interests. The influence of these merely
domestic and local associations is in fact everywhere
giving way before the attractions of a widespread
social intercourse. Now, the old family life, whatever
its faults ma)' have been in the way of narrowness
and provinciality, was yet usually a sincere life ; men
spoke and acted as they really felt ; alike what drew
them together and what kept them apart was
unrestrained and openly expressed. All the literature
of the old world is full of these strong mutual attrac
tions and repulsions between members of the same
family, or between the members of one family and
those of another. But this state of society having to
a great extent disappeared, and being everywhere on
the decline, there is much less encouragement now
than there was formerly to the expression, and
therefore so far to the existence, of any deeper
feelings of men towards each other than those which
naturally arise when they are engaged in social
intercourse.

CHAP. Ill COUNTERACTING INFLUENCES i8t
Let it not be supposed that in setting forth these
disadvantages attaching to modern society we are
insensible to its benefits and blessings, or that we
are comparing it unfavourably with some imagined
better state of things in the past. Nothing of that
kind is intended to be suggested here. We believe
that with all its faults the present state of society
and morals is greatly in advance of any previous one.
We feel how much there is in contemporary civilisa
tion which is bad and wrong, but we are aware that
there is a brighter side. We do not take a gloomy
view, and we especially dislike that exaggerated
insistence on current abuses and corruptions which,
with writers of a certain class, is now so common.
But for all that, we maintain that to men such as we
are now considering, men with high moral aspirations
and deep spiritual susceptibilities, the attractions of
modern society not only are no substitute for religion,
but are the very means of bringing into prominence
the absolute worthlessness of life without religion.
This, then, we hold, is one — at bottom perhaps the
main — reason why, in the eyes of these men, the
orthodox religion, though regarded by them as
indefensible on scientific grounds, has had an
increased value attached to it, in proportion as the
necessity for religion of some kind — and that not
merely as a police regulation — has become more
clearly evident. In other words, these men have
become to a certain extent disillusioned of modern
civilisation, and the result is a feeling of vacancy and
disappointment. Hence, the influence which these negative ideas
have upon men of this class is penetrative rather than
assimilative ; it upsets their early beliefs and it creates
a disturbance of their moral nature, but it does not
succeed in conciliating this latter, still less in bringing
it round to its own side. For the attempt to attach a
positive moral character to the creed of science
divorced from the creed of religion, as popularly

i82 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part iii
understood, has not found favJDur with the class
of men we are considering, any more than with the
orthodox classes. There is always a public ready to
listen to writers who insist on the general chaos likely
to result from the anti-religious influence, as they
consider it, of latter day science. On the other hand,
writers are also listened to who maintain that the
witness of science, rightly understood, is, if not on the
side of, at least not opposed to, orthodox beliefs. But
not much attention is paid, either by the orthodox
or by unbelievers, to those thinkers who imagine them
selves to have found an adequate substitute for the
faith they have surrendered, in negative science and
natural ethics. To both these classes a purely
naturalistic system seems incapable of leading to these
results, and this incongruity is but made to appear
to them greater by the high tone of thought and feel
ing so commonly exhibited by the upholders of these
views. This, then, is the position in which men such as we
are describing find themselves at the present time.
Their intellectual ancl their moral sympathies are in
different directions, the former inclining them to revolt
against the old faith, the latter prepossessing them in
its favour. They are, on the one hand, struck by the
force of the conclusions arrived at by scientific men
and by the negative application made of these con
clusions by popular writers, but they are, on the other
hand, united by deep moral sympathies with the
orthodo.x religion, and, in spite of the attempts of
certain eminent scientists, they find nothing to satisfy
their moral and spiritual wants in the teachings of
science. For, as we have before insisted, science is not to
these persons, as it is to those who follow it profes
sionally, a discipline and an education. That sublime
character which the author of Natural Religion
ascribes to this religion, may really attach to it when it
is the creed of a genuine man of science, though such

CHAP. Ill COUNTERACTING INFLUENCES 1S3
a man even then, as it seems to us, would have to be
something of a poet or philosopher as well, in order
for this to be the result. But in the cases to which
we have referred, these moral and spiritual effects are
non-existent, or almost so. Nor can this surprise us
when we consider that these effects are the outcome
not of science itself, but of book-reading and of gossip
about science, not of personal communion with nature,
but of second-hand information and inferential
conjecture. It may be thought that if these classes of men stand
so greatly in need of religion, and if what keeps them
apart from all existing bodies of Christians,, is not
really scientific knowledge, but merely science, or
rather scientific objections to religion in a popular and
diluted form, the dividing forces are after all insig
nificant in comparison with those which make for
union, and that, therefore, a reconciliation is capable
of being easily effected. But this idea would involve
a total misconception of the point of view here
referred to, and at the same time would recommend to
persons thus situated a course which they could not
honourably, or even honestl)', adopt. Nothing is
regarded by such persons with more disfavour than
the attempt to suppress, or to subordinate, or in any
way to compromise, truth of fact, in the supposed
interests of morality, or even in order to satisfy their
own most legitimate moral aspirations. Nor in what
has been said, have we meant to suggest that these
men have not a strong hold on truth of fact ; it has
not been our aim to represent them as the victims of
an hallucination, or as beating the air in an atmo
sphere of illusion. Their information, so far as it goes,
may be presumed to be trustworthy ; their own inly
felt fears and doubts are such as are not only natural,
but such as, in the present state of knowledge at any
rate, it is impossible to meet by a scientifically demon
strable negative. Doubtless they do at the same time
go beyond the evidence ; doubtless they fill in the

i84 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART Hi
outlines traced by science with a background of their
own imaginations ; " they have supped more full of
horrors " than is justified by any cause shown to exist
in the nature of things. All this has been admitted
and emphasised. But the time has gone by when
beliefs, or rather disbeliefs, of this kind could be
dismissed at starting, and without further inquiry, as
mere baseless figments of the imagination. Any
attempt, therefore, to take this line as regards the
persons in question is sure to fail of success, even if it
were not, as we think it is, to be deprecated on
grounds of morality.
Must we then adopt in reference to these men the
abstract or dualistic view of science ? and urge upon
them the desirability of keeping wholly separate what
science teaches from what religion bids them believe }
This would mean a limitation of the field of certainty
to those points which admitted of accurate scientific
proof, thus leaving it open to the inquirer to believe
whatever good things he pleased about the infinitude
of matters as to which all that science can do is to
confess her own ignorance. Such a point of view would
not necessarily be inimical to religion. To religion
indeed, understood in a certain sense, it might even
seem to be more friendly than the point of view we
have been attempting to describe. For in this latter
case, the boundary line between the spheres of know
ledge and ignorance is much less clearly marked, and
consequently, as we have seen, the mind cannot help
imagining to itself all sorts of possible contradictions
and inconsistencies between science and religion
which it simply would not enter into the head of a
genuine scientific inquirer even to conceive.
Notwithstanding this appearance, however, it does
not seem to us that the abstract scientific view is really
so favourable to religion as is the \'iew of those whose
beliefs or disbeliefs are not based on this hard-and-fast
line of distinction between fact and feeling. This
abstract scientific view of course often, perhaps most

CHAP. Ill COUNTERACTING INFLUENCES 185
often, does not concern itself with religion ; its
position is one of complete indifference, sometimes not
unmixed with contempt. But even where this is not so
— as hasbeen above supposed — even, i.e., where science
relegates religion to the sphere of subjective feeling,
and religion is recognised as having a locus standi of
its own only within this restricted sphere,' we may say
that the view thus taken is less favourable to the
true interests of religion than is the other which at
least aims at the reconciliation of religion with truth of
fact, though it despairs of the realisation of this aim,
and regards it as impossible. In what has been said
above, we may seem sometimes to have spoken with
scant respect of the heart-searchings and heart-achings
to which this baffled pursuit of truth gives rise ; the
impression may have been felt that we regarded the
disappointment and vexation of spirit thus occasioned
merely as indicative of an unscientific or non-
scientific habit of mind. But whatever may be the
shortcomings of this disposition, either on the one side
or the other, however far it may be from having found
peace either in believing or in doubting, we would not
exchange it for the self-satisfaction of those who have
made for themselves a way out of all their difficulties
by taking refuge in an abstract dualism between the
inner and the outer, between feeling and fact, between
what we think and what is.
Having thus stated what we do not think is the
course to be recommended to men who have become
involved in this tangle of doubts as regards ultimate
questions, let us now inquire whether there is no
better way than that either of slighting and ridiculing
the difficulties raised in the minds of such men —
according to the method described above as morally
' I.e. " We ought to have, and may have, a theory of the world
(or religion), but we must not believe in it theoretically ; we
must only allow ourselves to be practically, aesthetically,
ethically influenced by it." (Fr. Alb. Lange. See Stahlin,
Translation by Simon, p. 106.)

i86 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part in
inadmissible — or than that of overcoming these same
difficulties by the employment of the dualistic method
characterised in the last paragraph.
Before entering on this task, however, we wish to
make it fairly and clearly understood that we are not
now engaged in the often renewed attempt to estab
lish a harmony between religion and science. Our
aim rather is to indicate what we conceive is the state
of mind which must necessarily be induced, before any
such harmony can be felt to exist. This problem will
be discussed in what follows chiefly in connection with
the Church of England, not because we believe that
this Church has any exclusive ascendency or monopoly
of religious influence, still less because we wish to
exalt the work done by the Church of England at the
expense of that done by other religious denominations,
or other religious agencies (whether collective or
individual), but simply because the position of the
Church of England, in reference to the classes of
persons we have in view, has been throughout, as
we stated at starting, the ultimate object of the present
inquiry. We wish, then, to approach the subject before us
looking at it from the point of view that there is a
great work of education which requires to be done,
before any of the harmonistic attempts above referred
to can be estimated by the public, for whom they are
intended, at their true value.
Such attempts are, perhaps, not likely to be very
successful with any class of men, but they are least of
all likely to succeed as regards the class whose state of
mind wc have had under discussion. For men of this
class are more than any others given to expect from
the apologists more than these latter can do for them,
and then to complain because they are not satisfied.
But not only are wc not attempting to establish a
harmony between religion and science, but it is not
our aim to suggest any means whatsoever, no direct
means at all events, by which those alienated from

CHAP. Ill COUNTERACTING INFLUENCES 187
the Church ma)' be restored to her communion. It
is neither our object, on the one hand, to advocate
concessions and compromises to be made by the
Church, nor yet, on the other hand, to encourage
doubters and gainsayers to swallow their objections,
and to embrace the orthodox faith. We do not
ourselves believe that the time has yet come when
such attempts can be made either on the one side or
the other, without detriment to the interests of one or
other of the parties concerned,' or more likely of both
of them. Yet we do not doubt the possibility of a
final reconciliation, nor are we without hope of a
certain amount of approximation, within well-under
stood limits, even in the immediate future.
What, then, more precisely is our present endeav
our .'' It partly concerns the Church, partly it
concerns the classes alienated from the Church. As
regards the Church, it consists in pointing out that
the Church has a duty — a duty which at present she
only very imperfectly fulfils — even towards those out
side her communion. It consists further in giving
illustrations of the spirit in which this duty ought to
be performed. As regards the alienated classes, the
aim of our endeavour is to convince them that in spite
of their being separated from the Church in matters
of belief, the Church has even now a great influence
upon them, that this influence is even now, so far as
it goes, helpful to them, nay ! a source of moral and
spiritual strength of which they are all too uncon
scious ; that further, this influence ofthe Church might,
if properly directed, be made much more than it is to
serve as an educational influence to them, especially
by teaching them not what to think (which in the
present state of their minds towards the Church is
impossible), but hozv to think about religion, and this,
without any compromise or prejudice to their negative
position. No doubt, as the after result of the method
we recommend, changes would to a certain extent
' I.e. the Church and those alienated from her.

iSS THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART HI
take place both in what is now believed by the
Church, and also in what is now disbelieved by those
outside the Church. But the first problem seems to
us to be, in German phraseology, not one of the
" dogmatic " but of the philosophy of religion. For
these men have become habituated to an atmosphere
of thought in which it is hardly possible to conceive
of any attempted reconciliation of the old faith with
the new as satisfying them, or even as seriously
attracting their attention. In their case, therefore, the
creation of a new atmosphere of religious thought
must precede the recommendation of even the first
principles of religious belief
Yet it must not be supposed that what we are
attempting to do, in order to meet the case of these
men, is to reconstruct the Church of England a priori
without reference to its actual and historical existence,
and to the forms in which it is embodied amongst
ourselves. We really know nothing of religion,
except as a concrete fact of human histoiy. Alike
our ideas and our ideals of religion are formed from
the religious institutions familiar to us. We can only
determine what religion ought to be by examining
into its present state, and by considering in what way
and by what means this admits of improvement.
These remarks are not such platitudes as they may
seem. For not only do the)' especially hold good ofthe
Church of England on account of its ultra-conservative
nature, but writers on religious subjects require per
petually to be reminded of the necessity of bearing
them in mind. If there is no relation between what is
proposed by such writers and the state of opinion
amongst Christians generally, or some considerable
section of Christians, the influence exercised is either
practically nil, or else is merel)' alienating and des
tructive. Of course this latter is often the effect
which these writers desire. But to those whose aim
is spiritually constructive and reformatory it cannot
but appear to be as important to keep in view the

CHAP. Ill COUNTERACTING INFLUENCES 189
present state of religion as it is to indicate the
direction in which an improvement in this state may
be looked for in the future.
Hence, we shall consider what actually is being
done, before we consider what ought to be done, by
the Church of England towards exercising an in
fluence such as we think is to be desired on the
religious consciousness of the classes in question. In
other words, the order of our inquiry will be {a) the
strength, {b) the weakness, of the Church of England
as regards these classes.

CHAPTER IV
THE CHURCH AND THE ALIENATED CLASSES—
I. THE CHURCH'S STRENGTH
The strength then of the Church of England,
regarded from this point of view, consists in her
power of making men feel the essential union which
exists between things sacred and things secular, be
tween what is speculative and what is practical,
between what is spiritual and what is material. This
tendency has of course its less favourable side, which
sometimes appears uppermost, as, e.g., when the Church
enters into the sphere of party politics, or when
Churchmen generally become worldly and self-seek
ing. But when seen at its best, the Church of England
exercises a strong influence in the direction of what
may be called a practical and working idealism.
This is what, in our opinion, constitutes the strength
of this Church as regards those who have ceased to
believe. When, however, we speak of this as consti
tuting the strength of the Church of England as
regards these classes, we do not mean that this is a con
sequence of any preconceived statement or profession
made by the Church about herself ; we mean that,
without there having been any perceptible reason
why originally it should have been so, this has been,
as a matter of fact, the effect produced. It is indeed
part of the very nature of this characteristic that it

CHAP. IV THE ALIENATED CLASSES 191
cannot be referred exclusively to the influence of the
Church, any more than it can be explained inde
pendently of that influence. What we have in view,
therefore, is not so much any formal or official attri
bute of the Church of England, as rather the peculiar
" ethos " which distinguishes members of that Church
in their ordinary lives.
Now, this latter, though it may seem a very vague
influence, is precisely for this reason much more
practically operative than the former, especially as
regards the class of people with whom we are now
more particularly concerned. For we have seen that
the faith of those referred to is in process of disso
lution owing to causes which, though acting in an
opposite direction, are likewise vague and indefinite ;
hence, if these men are to be influenced by a counter
acting force, it must be by agencies which are not
less general and indefinite, but which, instead of being,
as in the other case, of a dissolvent nature, are con
trariwise spiritually constructive' It appears to us
that the influence of the Church of England is very
decidedly of this kind ; its distinguishing feature is its
extremely informal character, and at the same time,
or perhaps — paradoxical as it may seem — for this
reason, its practical operativeness. It is this influence
which we wish now to explain and illustrate.
We do not intend in what is about to be said as
regards the nature of this general influence, to limit
our remarks by considering how far their truth is
affected by recent changes in the character of the
Church of England. We shall not now take into
account, in relation to our present subject, the Anglo-
1 If it be objected at this point that what is wanted is a
definite religion, whereas what seems to be recommended here
is an indefinite one, our answer is that the influences referred
to in the text are not indefinite, if by that term is meant not
positive. On the other hand, if by the term definite is meant
" definite dogmatic teaching" it will have been gathered from
our previous remarks that we are speaking of men who are
not in a state to receive any such teaching.

192 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part hi
Catholic Revival and the developed ecclesiasticism in
which it has culminated. We cannot indeed deny
that the undenominational classes of the kind we
have in view, are in some cases influenced by these
ecclesiastical innovations, but we hold that much
more often matters such as these are of merely
facititious importance in their eyes, and we therefore
prefer, at all events for the present, to dwell on the
influence of the Church of England in its most general
form, and without reference to deviations in particular
cases. What, then, is the nature of the Church's general
influence on that now happily large class of average
thoughtful men, who are not so wholly engrossed in
their professional or business pursuits as to have no
time to think of other things ? or rather, what are the
influences of this kind which are most likely to con
tinue to operate on these men when, as the phrase
goes, they have ceased to believe .'' We are speaking
of men who have received a Public School and often
also a University education, and who have been
brought up under the shadow of the Church of
England. As we have said, we are not concerned to
inquire how far the influences about to be mentioned
are the Church's own, and how far they are shared by
the Church with other agencies in English society.
We ourselves believe that their connection with the
Church is a very real one, though not in any exclusive
sense. The first influence which remains indelibly im
pressed on men of this class is that of their early
religious training and education. Now, the Church
of England leaves the utmost freedom in these
matters to private agencies. She does not officially
direct or superintend them, except to a small extent.
So far as she does so, as, e.g., in confirmation classes,
the result is more or less a failure. Boys and girls
are taught what they know on religious subjects at
home and at school, and though their schoolmasters

CHAP. IV THE ALIENATED CLASSES 193
(in the case of boys at any rate) are usually clergy
men, the teaching of a clerical schoolmaster is in
most cases very different from the undiluted pro
fessionalism of official Church teaching.
It is not our intention to represent that this state
of things is wholly satisfactory. The actual religious
knowledge imparted to children brought up in this
way is no doubt in most cases very insufficient, in
some cases indeed ludicrously so. But we are now
concerned not so much with religious knowledge and
instruction as with religious influences, and as regards
these latter, there are many advantages in the plan of
allowing children to be thus unconsciously worked
upon by personal character, home surroundings, and
school associations.
The type of religious feeling which this method
produces is marked by extreme simplicity and
naturalness, and by a corresponding liberality.' No
after-teaching, not even if it is ever so broad and com
prehensive, can have such a truly liberalising effect
on the mind as this first teaching, if it is thus quite
simple and natural. In after years, persons intellec
tually far apart, men holding different views from
each other, and still more, men holding different views
from women, yet feel that there is a point of union
between them, though they know not where it lies,
and doubt as to its existence. A large universal toler
ance springs up between them, often no doubt dis
turbed and broken through, but always reasserting it
self and setting men at peace with themselves and
with each other. Where does such love spring from ?
and where shall we look for its source ? Not chiefly
in the lessons learnt in later years from cultivated
Christian teachers, nor in the suggested compromises
of liberalising Christian theologians, not in our experi-
' Liberality towards other men is not directly the subject of our
remarks, but it is impossible to avoid frequently alluding to it,
this characteristic being necessarily involved in a simple and
general system of religion such as we are describing. O

194 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART ill
ence as men of the world, nor in the so-called philo
sophy of common sense. In none of these forms does
" Catholic love " first take root, though they may all
of them in their several ways be means to its develop
ment. We first became imbued with this spirit when
we were simple open-hearted children, unconscious as
yet of any other truth except that which we were then
being taught, and from the impression thus received
often afterwards inclining to regard this truth as the
basis of Christian union. For men who have been
educated in early life on the above-mentioned simple
and general lines are often in their personal character
more liberal than their opinions, no matter what the
nature of these may be ; whereas, those who have not
had these advantages in the days of their youth, or
who at that time of life have been mystified or misled,
are often as regards their personal character less
liberal than their opinions, liberal as these may be,
and sincerely as they may be held by those who
profess them.
But we pass on now to consider the religious in
fluences of school life, as distinguished from the mere
impressions received at home. These school influences
as regards religion are likewise extremely informal
and indefinite. Yet they may be the means of
implanting in a schoolboy's mind deep latent religious
convictions which may survive the assaults of scepti
cism in his later experience, and may then unite him
in spirit with those from whose dogmatic opinions he
wholly dissents. Such convictions are not recognised
at the time they are acquired, and hence those who
are most strongly possessed by them often imagine
that their own certainty about them has been pro
duced by what they have heard or read, after the
period of adult consciousness has been reached. And
of course as regards most matters of merely intel
lectual belief, this is true. But as regards the
moral necessity ofthe primary truths of religion, it is
doubtful if any certainty of conviction in later )'ears

CHAP. IV THE ALIENATED CLASSES 195
surpasses that of a schoolboy who has developed an
aspiration after hoi)' things and a higher life for the
first time'
It is indeed precisely because this high aspiration
of boyhood — best described perhaps as the love of
God and of goodness — is so exclusively of a moral
nature that it is so difficult to manufacture it for the
first time after the age of boyhood is past. For at a
later period of life other ideas of God obtrude them
selves — ideas involving questions as to the nature of
His existence, causative energy, and mode of revealing
Himself — and these later ideas often seem indifferent,
and sometimes opposed to, those earlier ones which are
simply and purely moral. And if it is in boyhood, it
is pre-eminently in school-boyhood, that this moralisa-
tion of religion is most strongly felt. But for the life
at school following on the life at home, there would be
no expansion of the moral view, no idea of a moral
kingdom, i.e. of moral agents co-ordinated and
organised with reference to a common moral end.
In addition to this, the direct influence of the
religious teaching provided at our best public schools is
often considerable, and- in some cases is even remark
able. As regards the Bible, for instance, the quality
of the instruction given has vastly improved of late
years, and this cannot be without its results in the
present and still more in the future. Advantage has
^ Religion in early life amongst ourselves is' for the most part
ethical, and takes the form of active moral effort. French
writers, on the other hand, usually lay most stress on its imper
sonal and naturalistic character, c.f. " Le grand charme de ces
monologues d'une jeune ame au face de Dieu et de la Nature
venait precisdment de la complete absence de toute personality
active." (George Sand, Valvedre, p. 231.) The typical
German representation is, as might be expected, more meta
physical, c.f. the following: — "In der glorreichen innerlichen
welt jugendlicher Phantasien kommt es zum Bewusztsein, dass
iiber den gewohnlichen Gedankenlauf hinaus noch ein andrer
wesenhafter Inhaltliegt der als das einzig werthvoUe und wahr-
haft Wirkliche mit aller Kraft des Geistes erfasst wird. "
(Lotze)
O 2

196 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part iii
been taken of such attractively written works as those
of Trench, Stanley and Farrar, and of smaller, though
not less instructive, volumes, like those published
by the Society for Promoting Christian Know
ledge on the Heathen World and St. Paul, to
impart to the study of the Bible a more human
interest. A boy is thus taught to perceive what a
flood of light has been thrown on the page of
Scripture by classical literature, histoiy and scholar
ship. A method of teaching such as this cannot but
have a conciliatoy effect as regards any supposed
antagonism between the parts of knowledge, and that
this effect is being produced on the rising generation of
boys and young men is in many respects evident,
and with each succeeding year will become more so.
Again, some of the sermons of eminent school
masters seem to us admirably adapted to answer the
purpose for which they are intended. Such sermons
must from the nature of the case be more or less
directly practical, and with the increasing size of our
public schools and the more felt necessity of attempt
ing to combat admitted moral evils, they have
naturally tended to assume this character to a greater
extent than they did in the days of Dr. Arnold's
Rugby sermons, the larger number of which, though
likewise practical, have also an exegetical and
sometimes even a doctrinal aim. Yet in spite of this
necessary limitation, there are not a few school
sermons which must be classed amongst the very best
specimens of contemporar)' religious teaching.
Something too is being done in class-teaching to
make religious ideas more intelligible in their appli
cation to the past histoiy and present condition of
mankind. We could give several recent examples from
our own private knowledge, of teaching of this kind
which has been successful. The public, however, who
have not this knowledge, can only judge as to the influ
ence of these ideas from the traces of them which
they find in the writings of schoolmasters on religious

CHAP. IV THE ALIENATED CLASSES 197
subjects. We will give two instances of what we
mean : the first of them taken from a period when
the religious influence of public school teaching was
just beginning to adapt itself to more modern con
ditions ; the second more characteristic of that teaching
in its subsequently developed form.
Dr. Temple's now forgotten essay on The Educa
tion of tlie World, which formed one of the once
famous Essays and Reviews, was not in itself a great
or original production, but it has always been com
mended to us by the sense which it leaves that the
writer had brought its subject into the course of his
school teaching, or at least that he had thought of it
in that connection. Without knowing how far, if at
all, this was actually the case, we can only express
our belief that no idea could possibly be more fruitful
as a subject for boys, than that of a gradual education of
mankind working itself out through successive stages
of moral and spiritual achievement, and combining
the lessons of Greek and Roman, not less than those
of Jewish and Christian, experience in one common
result. Such an idea, by bringing under one focus all
that a boy knew of sacred and profane history, would
surely lead him to see unity where otherwise he
would have seen only difference.
As to our second instance, there is not the same
doubt with regard to its intended application to
school teaching, for Dr. Abbott's Through Nature to
Christ had previously been presented in a form
suited for religious instruction in his Bible Lessons.
We are not concerned here to enter into any dis
cussion on the idea of these two books, which is,
shortly, that of an approach to be made to Christ, and
worship to be paid to Him, through the forms of
nature and of social life, in both of which He is im
plicitly contained. But it will be generally agreed
that this idea might become a very influential one, if
it were applied to the revelation of Christ alike in
Scripture and in ordinary human experience, and if

198 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part hi
a boy's whole religious education were made to
turn on it.
These, then, are our two examples (to which others
might be added) of what may be, has been, and is
being, done by schoolmasters to associate together the
spheres of religious and secular knowledge as parts
of a connected whole.
We may add to these educational influences of
early life others of a still more general kind. For
instance, in families and households there is a spirit
of religion which always may be, and often is, made to
prevail in spite of all religious differences. Nor have
things yet gone so far, except in a small minority of
cases, as to render undesirable the continued ob
servance in families of the more simple and elementary
forms of religious devotion — members of the same
family may still assemble together to hear the Bible
read aloud, they may still unite in common daily
prayer. Another influence on men such as we are con
sidering, arises from their being constantly reminded
of the vast amount of good that is being done through
the Church's initiative, if not under her direction.
Not only in the world at large, but often in their own
immediate surroundings, the spectacle is presented to
them of self-sacrificing efforts and self-forgetting
lives which are called forth in far greater numbers,
and are made far more effective for good, by the union
and co-operation of men together as members of a
common Church. In this respect, the Church of
England is peculiarly fitted to attract the notice of
outsiders on account of the practical and reasonable
character c\'en of her ideal of saintliness.
Lastly, there are all the influences of historical
association and a^sthctic dignity in both of which the
Church of England is speciall)' rich, and which,
though some would deny their religious character,
undoubtedly exercise this effect or something like it,
on minds of a certain class. As regards influences

CHAP. IV THE ALIENATED CLASSES 199
of this kind, the tendency of the Church of England
in recent times has been all in the direction of in
creasing their strength. Yet it is the more ancient
character of our Church considered as — " an agency
by which the devotional instincts of human nature
are enabled to exist side by side with the rational," ^
it is this character which appeals most powerfully to
the sympathies of the alienated classes. Not that, so
far as regards her Logical defence of her position, the
Church of England has given any adequate expression
to this combination. But then — as the romancist
above quoted has acutely indicated — the very weak
ness of this Church — qua its logic — is but the other
side of its strength ; indeed the questions suggested
by this weakness could not have been so constantly
asked, unless the Church had had a strength of her
own, not derived from abstract logic, a ''fons veri
lucedus within," of which she was unconscious. Now
there are amongst the alienated classes not a few
persons who are far more favourably impressed by
this weakness of the Church of England as witnessing
to her real strength, than they would be by even
the most logically conclusive statement made in
answer to the question, " How can we know the truth
ataU.?" Such persons, however, belong probably rather
to the more cultivated section, than to the majority,
of the alienated classes, whilst our aim is to take
chiefly into account those influences of the Church
of England which affect the majority. Looking
then to our main contention and to the sum of
what has been, and still more of what might be,
urged in its support, we regard this merely general
influence of the Church of England as a very strong
one, more especially in relation to those classes of
the community who will have nothing to say to the
specific teaching either of this Church or of any
' Refer for this quotation, as likewise for what follows, to
"John Inglesant," by T. H. Shorthouse, vol. ii., pp. 383-386.

20O THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART Hi
other. Or if the Church of England does not
exercise a strong influence on all the undenomina
tional classes, she at all events does so on those
belonging to the class whom we have described.
Nowhere else in Europe is there anything like it ; in
no other country, either Catholic or Protestant, is
there to be found a Church which retains its hold
over such a large section of educated men by whom
its dogmatic teaching is rejected.
Now, we say that in England this moral and
spiritual influence which the Anglican Church is so
powerful in recommending, acts on the classes of men
who are in this state of theological alienation as a
counteracting force to that other influence which,
whether it ought to do so or not, does as a matter of
fact tend to discredit religion of any and every kind.
The strength of the Church of England as regards
these classes consists precisely in this its power of
making them feel religion as a principle, operative in
their lives even after they have ceased to believe in
any formally enunciated religious truth. Professed
theologians and professed men of science are alike
disdainful of this state of mind, which neither of
them are in a position to understand. It is of course
not satisfactory, nor have we endeavoured to re
present that it is more than the best that can be
hoped for under the given conditions. Yet those
who are thus disposed may be at heart more religious
than either the believers or disbelievers of a more
definite type. Nor are men who are in this state,
and who live accordingly, less honest than are those
who belong to the other two classes just mentioned.
But we are not now concerned either with the
merit or demerit of this class of men. What we are
concerned with is their relation to the Church of
England, which is what we have described. We
cannot, however, forbear from saying that, little as
the Church takes to herself any honour for this
relationship, it is in reality one of the facts of which

CHAP. IV THE ALIENATED CLASSES 2ol
she has most reason to be proud, and perhaps that
one which is most likely to be a source of strength to
her in the future. For it is as important that a
Church should be able to support men's faith after
they have ceased to believe, as it is that the faith of
those who do believe should be made deeper and
stronger, and certainly not less important than that
the denials of disbelievers should be refuted.

CHAPTER V
THE CHURCH AND THE ALIENATED CLASSES^
II. THE church's WEAKNESS
Such then being, in our judgment, what consti
tutes the strength of the Church of England as
regards the classes referred to, we pass on now to
consider in what consists the weakness of this Church
as regards these same classes.
(I.) No7i-recognition. These general impressions,
influences, and associations on which we have dwelt,
have no doubt, as we have said, a deep latent
strength. Their tendency, so far as they take root in
the character, is to produce a sense of moral har
mony, which, even in its more perverted form of mere
contented acquiescence in the established order, is
often at bottom an anticipation of the higher life of
the spirit. But there is too much disposition on the
part of Church people to regard the persons who are
in this state, as if they were necessarily in agreement
with the Church's theological position, or at all events,
to refuse to recognise the divergence of such persons
from orthodo.x opinions, even where there can be no
doubt as to its existence.
Now, this arises from different causes in different
cases, which latter require to be discriminated.
The rationale of this non-recognition in the better
class of cases is as follows : As negative opinions are

CHAP. V THE ALIENATED CLASSES 203
due, in the manner above described, not to science
alone but also to the popular imagination which
interprets science, so orthodox opinions are not less
of a popular and non-scientific character. Men who
have received a merely general and literary education
are no better acquainted with systematic theology
than the alienated classes are with natural science.
Orthodox Church people then — not being in a
position to understand the facts — find great difficulty
in believing in the reality of any mere differences of
opinion keeping other men apart from themselves.
For they are united to these other men by moral
and spiritual ties the nature of which they can
appreciate, whilst the nature of the differences is to
a great extent beyond their comprehension. No
doubt when such differences of opinion are fully
revealed to them, they are surprised and shocked,
but they are nevertheless usually not at all
disposed to bring to light, or seriously to examine
into, causes of division arising from this source. This,
we repeat, is the rationale of non-recognition in the
better class of cases. On the other hand, the baser
sort of religionists in the Church of England, though
no doubt often behaving intolerantly, and sometimes
intolerably, towards those who differ from themselves,
are yet in the main anxious to avoid a rupture with
them. They prefer a working arrangement, a means
of making the ecclesiastical machine move easily and
without friction, and this is similarly the case with
those whose religion is predominantly political, or, in
the lower sense, practical. Taken as a whole, the
behaviour of Church people in regard to this matter
is timid, given to compromise, and anxious to smooth
over difficulties by temporary makeshifts. This con
stitutes, as we believe, one chief cause of the Church's
weakness in respect of the classes alienated from her.
The Church of England practically refuses to re
cognise a difficulty which is only aggravated by
being concealed, though this may be, and most often

204 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART Hi
is, done with the best intentions. We say practically,
because we do not of course mean that the Church is
called on officially to recognise tho.se who stand to
her in the relation above described ; we mean a more
frank and thorough recognition by Churchmen of the
true state of the case as regards those who are
neither Churchmen nor orthodox Dissenters. Such
recognition is a necessary first step to an improved
relation between Churchmen and those alienated from
the Church on the above-mentioned grounds, and the
absence of it is a barrier to any further progress
being made in this direction.
We do full justice to those who set themselves in
opposition to this course. What they conscientiously
believe is that by endeavouring to hush up these
differences of opinion, and by affecting to disbelieve
in their reality, they can cause them to disappear, if
not at once, at least by slow degrees. And no doubt
in many cases this plan succeeds, for the profession
of such differences is often a mere caprice or a
fashion hastily adopted. Yet in other cases, the gain
thus obtained is purchased by the partial or complete
loss of moral sincerity, whilst not unfrequently the
plan altogether breaks down and only drives those on
whom it is practised into further revolt.
We will now proceed to furnish some examples of
the Church's weakness as arising from non-recogni
tion. (i.) Fathers and mothers of families when they
find their grown-up children departing, or varying,
from their own ways of thinking in matters of reli
gion, usually thenceforward either drop the subject
altogether, or, if they refer to it, do so only in order
to express their displeasure at the divergence of
opinion which they have observed to exist. This is
a mistake. What they ought rather to do is, — To
ascertain how far the split has gone ? To what causes
it is due .'' What amount of common ground still
remains ? The business of parents, in short, is to try

CHAP. V THE ALIENATED CLASSES 205
and make out what the true state of the case requires,
and then to act as best they can in the interests of
their children, whilst at the same time respecting
their independence. Of course there will be all sorts
of differences in the mode of action required in each
case, according as parents and children differ respec
tively amongst themselves. But in most cases it will
be found that more good than harm results from the
facts of the case being brought to light. In some
cases it will be discovered that the difference is more
apparent than real ; in other cases it will be seen that
the difference is real indeed, but yet such as to admit
of a very hearty agreement between the two parties
up to a certain point and within certain limits ; in a
third class of cases the vastness of the difference may
create at first a sense of despair. And yet even in
these most extreme cases, the interchange of opinions
between parents and children may teach them to
respect each other, and may make them more fondly
attached by bringing out moral and intellectual
qualities on both sides which before had been
unobserved. (ii.) Again, nothing seems to us less wise than our
manner of behaving towards young men who, whether
at the University or elsewhere, have become imbued
with sceptical or revolutionary opinions. To laugh at
these men or to doubt their sincerity, is, if they are in
earnest, the surest way of either driving them into
complete religious indifference or into anti-religious
fervour. It is of course true that this period of op
position on the part of young men is often, perhaps
most often, only transitional ; men, as we hear it said,
" settle down as they grow older ; " meantime, it is held
that " young men will be young men," in their opinions
as in everything else ; or it is urged that " every puppy
must have the distemper," and so on. Such is the
popular view, and we do not deny that it is borne out
by frequent examples. Yet no one will pretend that
the state of mind which it implies is altogether

2o6 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part iii
a healthy one or that there can be much to be proud of
in a way of behaving towards young men which does
so little to inculcate in them a spirit of fearlessness
combined with reverence, in their treatment of
religion. (iii.) Lastly, as regards this subject, we think there
might be more recognition of the existing state of
things than there in fact is on the part of the clergy.
In their defence, it must be admitted that these
differences of opinion have only quite recently in
creased to such an extent as to render themselves felt
in this aggravated form, and no doubt by many it
would be denied that matters have gone so far as this
even now. We know too how hard it is for a clergy
man to see with the eyes of other men and thus to
arrive at a comprehension of the true state of the
case. Nor are the difficulties in the way of his doing
this by any means wholly self caused. For whatever
may be the case as regards the poorer and less
educated of his parishioners, in polite society the facts
are more or less veiled from his eyes, or at least are
not exhibited in anything like their full extent. And
yet in spite of these and other reasons, the nature and
strength of which we are well able to appreciate, it
cannot but seem strange that men who in most cases
have had the advantage of a University education,
or who, failing that, have at least not been isolated
from the society of their contemporaries, should so
often close their eyes to what is going on amongst
those with whom they habitually associate. Nor can
we suppose that our clergy would have been seized
with this fatal blindness, if they had not tended of
late years, as we have all along insisted they have
done, to become more and more a professional class —
a class governed by its own laws and judging the
facts of life by its own predetermined rules. This
ecclesiastical bias is not inconsistent with, but is
rather promoted by, that increased earnestness and
activity with which in all fairness the clergy of the

CHAP. V THE ALIENATED CLASSES 207
Church of England must nowadays be credited. It
is this class, or we should rather say, this caste, spirit
which justifies its own indifference to individual
cases, such as those above described, by refer
ence to the " general prevalence of unbelief," which,
even when it is professedly tolerant, forbids all ex
change of confidences by the unnatural and priestly
air which it assumes when religious subjects are
being freely and frankly discussed, or, finally, which,
in its anxiety to secure men's outward allegiance,
ignores their inly-felt doubts. We have said that this
is a class or caste spirit, and hence it is not surprising
that individual clergymen by whom it is exhibited
are often personally estimable. Yet until this spirit
is extinct, there is no hope that any improvement in
the present state of divided opinion on religious
subjects will be effected by means of the clergy.
Our suggestion then as regards this first cause of
weakness from which the Church suffers is that, at the
same time that those deep moral and spiritual in
fluences of which we have spoken should be further
cultivated and enlarged, there should be a parallel
movement on the part of the Church community, the
aim of which should be to facilitate the recognition
by Churchmen of persons whose views on religious
subjects are, or seem to be, fundamentally different
from their own.
We have said that we should not recommend this
recognition thus strongly, if the differences of opinion
referred to were not widely spread and deeply rooted.
But if such is the character of these differences, is it
not also true, on the other hand, that the cementing
bonds of union are at the present time exceptionally
strong ? No one can doubt that men and women of
all shades of opinion are now working together for
moral and social objects more than they have ever
before done ; no one can seriously disbelieve in the
compactness of the spiritual forces by which the
members at all events of the upper and upper middle

2o8 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part hi
section of society are now sympathetically united.
Hence, in making this suggestion, we are but follow
ing the method we prescribed to ourselves at starting ;
we are not attempting any a priori construction, but are
simply obeying the dictation of facts. We thus learn,
both that these differences of religious opinion have
advanced to such an extent as to require a more
thorough recognition and a more understanding know
ledge, and also that little or no danger is to be
apprehended from such recognition, owing to the
increased strength of the forces now uniting the
members of society together, more especially in
their moral and spiritual relations.
What, therefore, we most earnestly desire in the
first place, is precisely this increased recognition on
the basis of this increased union. Unless this effort
becomes a social movement in the manner indicated
above by the examples given of the weakness from
which the Church at present suffers in this respect,
we do not see how any real improvement can be
effected in the attitude of Churchmen and unbelievers
towards each other. No doubt the employment of
literature as a means of stating and discussing diffi
culties is, so far as it goes, helpful and valuable. But in
England, literature touches only the surface of men's
minds, and though it is likewise true that in England
religious literature is still immeasurably more influen
tial than any other, )'et we must not expect this evil
of non-recognition to be thus cured or even materially
diminished. Those results will not arise until domestic,
social, and ecclesiastical influences are brought to bear
in the same direction, nor in fact until men in general
become more alive to the dangers and inconveniences
caused to society by this unnatural habit of ignoring,
or affecting to ignore, the true state of the case
amongst us as regards matters of religion.
(II.) The neglect to provide suitable teaching. In
specifying this as a second cause of the Church's
weakness in reference to the alienated classes, we do

CHAP, v THE ALIENATED CLASSES 209
not mean any disrespect to the attempts made by the
apologists of orthodoxy to harmonise religion and
science. These attempts, if we may judge from
recent examples, are not characterised by any want of
ability on the part of those who conduct them. We
would indeed ourselves rather that theologians made
more sure of their ground before committing them
selves so eagerly to such large propositions as that
evolution is all on the side of Christianity, and that
the Darwinian theory is but a restatement of the
Mosaic cosmogony. The present state of our know
ledge is not ripe, and still less is the knowledge
commonly possessed by these writers sufficient, for
the determination of such gigantic questions. But
though those who make these apologetic attempts
may sometimes be over-hasty in their conclusions, it
will not be denied that in many of the writings to
which we refer there is much which is both highly
valuable and highly interesting.
The reason why we entertain such very moderate
expectations as regards the results likely to be derived
from them by the alienated classes is, that there is a
great work which requires to be done before any such
attempts can be estimated by these classes at their
true value. What then is this work .? It is briefly
expressed thus. We hold that religion may be shown
to be so much deeper and wider, that its influence
may not only not be, but may not seem to the alien
ated classes to be, anti-scientific. Plow do we pro
pose to effect this object .¦" or rather — for we cannot
expect more — How do we propose to advance towards
it .' This, too, admits of being stated in a few words.
What we desire to see brought about is a reformation
of the religious consciousness, a different state of
religious thought, a more extended view of what
rehgion is and means in relation to the facts of life.
It is not a change of doctrinal or dogmatic belief of
which we are now thinking ; not a surrender of reli
gion to science, or of science to religion, or a com-
P

210 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part Hi
promise between them. Our aim is rather to place
the men we are considering in a position to decide as
to the questions at issue for themselves, than to
attempt to prejudge their decision. In briefer terms
still, what we want is a popular philosophy of
religion. This view of the matter is not likely on any ground
to find many supporters, but that part of the state
ment just made to which most exception will be
taken is the word "popular." The "philosophy of
religion " in fact is considered as all very well, pro
vided it is confined to philosophers, and is intended
only for the private edification of the speculative
public, i.e., of a mere handful of persons. We are
arguing, however, in favour of a more popular treat
ment of this subject, indeed, if that were not so, the
suggestion would in the present connection be irrele
vant. And we make this demand both on the ground
that the alienated classes would at the present time
be more helped by this means than by any other, and
likewise, on the further ground that the satisfaction of
the demand is now, to a much greater extent than it
was formerly, within reach.
As for the first point, viz., the needfulness of some
such teaching in the interests of the classes in ques
tion, this depends of course on the extent to which
our diagnosis of the disease from which these classes
are suffering is correct. Assuming, however, that it is
so, it will follow from what has been said that the
remedy proposed is the one required. For our whole
point with regard to these classes is that, far from
being insusceptible to a philosophy of religion, they
have already become imbued by a philosophy of this
very kind as the result of an imaginative and un
scientific rendering of the facts of science. It is a
philosophy, inchoate indeed and unconscious of itself,
but still a philosophy, because it takes a synthetic
view of the data of experience. And it is a religious
philosophy, partly because it springs from the despair

CHAP, v THE ALIENATED CLASSES 211
of a religion and is a sort of nightmare of tremulous
fears and vague uncertainties derived from that
despair ; partly because its sense of loyalty to truth
and to the facts which it knows, is after all at bottom
a religious sense ; partly again because its non-
acquiescence in its own position and its dissatisfaction
with the world, are due to the promptings of religion.
But one view of the universe can only be displaced
by another. Now, by a view of the universe, we
mean precisely what is called a philosophy, which
latter becomes a philosophy of religion so soon as it
is brought in connection with the facts of the religious
consciousness. But we said also that a philosophy of religion is
more within reach now than it was formerly. We
meant b)' this that there is more sense now on the
part of religious teachers of its need — and not only
so, but also that, as a class, religious teachers are now
more competent to supply the need. This, however,
applies rather to what has been done of late years for
the " philosophy of religion " than to what has been
done for its popularisation. In the former respect there
have been some remarkable productions, though these
have not emanated chiefly from the Church of Eng
land. On the other hand, there have not been many
attempts made recently to present this subject in a
more popular manner, and so far therefore, when we
say that a popular philosophy of religion is now more
within reach, this can only be understood to have
reference to the probability that work which has been
well done for one class of readers may soon be made
accessible — in a form capable of being understood — •
to other classes also.
However, we base our affirmation not only on what
has been done with a direct view to this object, but
also on the strength of the indirect evidence as to its
felt importance which is furnished by popular religious
literature. There is, for example, in the better class
of popular sermons at the present day, a habit observ-
P 2

212 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND Part Hi
able, of presenting the Christian message not as an
isolated and detached communication from God to
man, but as associated with spiritual laws of universal
application. And again, there is a deeper probing of
the facts of consciousness in connection with such
phenomena as those of sin, of the spiritual life and
the redemptive processes involved in it, than has ever
been achieved, or even attempted, in the pulpit before.
Nor is it only in sermons that we find the pearl of
great price with which Christian teachers are en
trusted, thus enshrined in its appropriate spiritual
setting ; but in many treatises, pamphlets, and short
articles —in all that branch of literature, in fact, which
is typically represented by the writings of Professor
Drummond — we are provided with instances both of
the great want of a philosophy of religion experienced
by the public, and of the great services rendered by
religious thinkers, popularly gifted, with a view to
supplying that want.
At the same time, it cannot be said that the
impression made on the mind of the public by these
various efforts extends as yet far below the surface.
The favourite method is still, to wait until some
literary man of science makes his attack, or until
some novel theory, presumed to be destructive of
religion, has been started, and then to endeavour to
overwhelm it by a shower of explosives, in papers at
Church Congresses, in magazine articles, and in Bamp
ton Lectures. The Church will never make much way
with the alienated classes until she has, to a vastly
greater extent than is the case at present, a religious
philosophy of her oivn, not indeed " officially sanc
tioned," but practically assented to, at all events in
principle, and employed for purposes of teaching,
first by leading Churchmen, and then by Churchmen
generally. But this much-to-be desired consummation is not
likely to take place until the Church of England passes
into a more catholic stage of its existence, and ceases

CHAP. V THE ALIENATED CLASSES 213
to be the mere organ of a party assuming to itself the
airs of catholicity. At present, the most able and
brilliant exponents of the philosophy of religion in
the Church, however much they may be admired for
their personal gifts, their " high seriousness," their
learning and accomplishments, do not carry any real
weight with the alienated classes, for the simple
reason that they are felt to have other aims in view
with which those classes do not and cannot sympath
ise. The efforts of Churchmen to promote a more
thoughtful appreciation of the truths of religion will
have to choose some other form than that of a mere
intellectual adjunct to highly ornate church services.
The application of religion to the facts of experience
will have to be undertaken by men who are free from
all arriere pensee of ecclesiasticism, and who desire
the spiritual enrichment of humanity simply and
purely for its own sake.
Meantime, let us be thankful that we stand where
we do, and even that the party which, for the reasons
above alluded to, in many respects bars the way to
further progress, is likewise the party through whose
agency such attempts at a philosophy of religion as
those which we possess have, not indeed wholly, but
still in great part, been derived. The triumph
of that party and its organisation of the Church
are preparatory to the future unity of our Church
on a wider basis, and the relation of the philo
sophy of religion (so far as it exists) in the Church
at present to the philosophy of religion in
the Church of the future, is very similar. Al
ways and everywhere where there is more true unity
there is more true philosophy, and this is so much the
case that the extent of the unity which has charac
terised the Church at each period has also been the
measure of its philosophy.
Apart, however, from these considerations as re
gards the Church as a whole, what we desire to
emphasise once more is the necessity, in the interests

214 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part hi
of the alienated classes, of a practical application of
this which we have called the " philosophy of reli
gion," to the facts of life. The term " philosophy of
religion " is so seemingly abstract and high-sounding,
that we fancy it can have little meaning to an
ordinary man in the course of his daily experience.
Yet what we advocate is, not a mere course of study
in this subject when men have arrived at a point of
culture advanced enough to admit of their applying
themselves to it with advantage. On the contrary,
there must be an apprenticeship in youth, and a life
long education afterwards, continuously progressive.
In order to show what we mean by this apparently
impracticable suggestion, we will exhibit in conclu
sion two specimens of the sort of training which we
think might be gone through in the early stages of
life, leaving the training which is to follow afterwards
— inasmuch as it is more easily imaginable — to
suggest itself to the reader of its own accord. The
remarks we shall make of course have in view the
promotion of the habit of mind which we consider
the most salutary as a preservative against that state
of alienation from religion with which throughout we
have been concerned.
There appear then in youth to be two tendencies
natural to the mind which especially require to be
pointed in a right direction, and which, if not so
guided and controlled, are likel)', and indeed almost
certain, to lead to the results which we deprecate in
later life. These are, on the one hand, the anthropo
morphic tendency, and, on the other hand, the
tendency to exaggerate the possibilities of knowledge.
Let us then say something on each of these two
tendencies, in order to show how religion would be
benefited if they were more taken into account in
religious education.
(a) What has to be guarded against then is not
anthropomorphism, which in some form is unavoid
able, but rather the prematurely fixed and exclusive

CHAP. V THE ALIENATED CLASSES 215
character which this habit of mind is commonly
allowed to assume. Its fault in so many cases is that
it tends to become stereotyped, to restrict itself
exclusively to certain specified forms, and to regard
these as the only ones under which the religious idea
is capable of being manifested. Hence, the treatment
of this tendency ought to be directed to expand the
narrow and false ideas which thus become so readily
impressed on the mind. What we have to do is to
endeavour to elicit the substantial truth underlying
the forms and appearances which are necessarily
mistaken for the truth, to dissociate the truth itself —
so far as this is possible at each stage — from the
vehicle of its expression and the instances of its
application. As Hegel said of the Greeks, that their
fault was, not that they were too anthropomorphic,
but that they were not anthropomorphic enough, so
this may be said of mankind in general. Those
figurate conceptions which the first effort of thought
mistakes for concrete existences, if before a certain
point is reached they are not enlarged, remain for
ever afterwards as the essential forms of spiritual
reality, instead of being regarded merely as its
materialised symbols. Those definite rounded entities
of the mind's own creation, separated from each other
by breaks and spaces like the objects of the sensible
world, gradually assume, if left to themselves, a
character of fixity and permanence from which they
can never afterwards be divested. The religious con
sciousness must begin to expand itself before it has
become fixed in a groove, before its objects have been
defined and regulated, before its impressions of divine
things have hardened into thoughts. It is because
the Christian revelation so easily admits of this pro
cess being applied, addressing us first as children of
the one Father, then, when we know more, as brothers
of the firstborn Son, and finally as sharers in the
same Spirit, that its appeal is not made in vain and
that its voice is listened to and obeyed.

2i6 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part ill
Now, how very little there is of this sort of educa
tion amongst us, or of any attempt towards it ! It
may be said that in this respect the Church of
England is no worse than any other Church, and that,
no doubt, is true. But then other Churches are not
so favourably situated as is the Church of England
for exercising an influence in this direction. It is
precisely because the Church of England possesses so
many advantages in this matter and makes so little
use of them, that her weakness stands confessed.
How little advance there is in the minds of most men
amongst us beyond the crude representations of
religious truth which they formed to themselves at
starting ! Or else where this is not so, and there is
some development, how seldom does the growth of
the religious consciousness proceed naturally ! How
much more often is it not forced or jerked into an
acquiescence which is more imaginary than real !
Only in very few cases is there anything like a
continuous development of the inner life which is
really progressive without involving any harsh break
with previous experiences. Yet the characteristic
influence of the Church of England is just such as
to lead us to expect from it this result, as has been
already observed. We ascribe this weakness then to
the Church's failure to realise her mission as a
spiritual teacher. The Church either leaves men
alone, trusting to the natural influence of those edu
cative agencies mentioned above — which are, how
ever, more a preparation for true religion than an
actual means of producing it — or else endeavours to
make these generally diffused agencies more opera
tive by associating them in a very special manner
with its own ecclesiastical system. In neither case,
and the two cases are very different, does it com
monly appear that any attempts are made to liberate
the mind from its own natural trammels, and thus to
advance the cause of spiritual freedom.
But we are now more particularly concerned with

CHAP. V THE ALIENATED CLASSES 217
those who are in a state of reaction against a Church
which has so neglected their religious education, and
whose hatred of the anthropomorphism which they
suppose to be characteristic of the Church's teaching,
has led them away from her fold. And our conten
tion is that if these persons had been more educated
whilst they were in their spiritual nonage, if the
anthropomorphic tendency of their minds had then
been made to expand, the result might have been
different. We do not mean necessarily that the
persons in question would not then have been alien
ated from the Church. That might or might not have
been so, or rather, it might have been so in some
cases and not in others. We are arguing the question
of religious assent or negation on its broadest grounds,
and not merely with a view to determining the exact
number of people who. might or might not have been
saved to the Church in a given supposed case. It
seems to us that if the question is thus broadly con
sidered, we shall be sorrowfully obliged to admit that
the present theological estrangement, at least in its
most radical forms, might have been almost incalcul
ably lessened, if religious teachers of all denominations,
but more especially of the Church of England, had
presented this problem of anthropomorphism in its
true light, and had introduced corresponding changes
into their system of education. Nor does it appear
to us doubtful that teachers and preachers are now
awaking to the consciousness of this fact ; for there
is hardly a sermon preached, or a book of popular
religious teaching published, which does not enter its
protest against some commonly accepted, but mistaken,
view capable of being traced to the anthropomorphic
tendency. There are indeed almost as many protests
against popular errors due to this cause, as there are
against the errors (due to other causes), of those who
are avowed disbelievers in religion.
{b) But the Church fails in her mission as an
educator not only as regards anthropomorphism, but

2i8 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part hi
also as regards the limitations imposed on human
knowledge. She does not sufficiently bring home to
men the knowledge of their own ignorance, and her
failure in this respect is another source of her weak
ness, more especially in her dealings with those
persons whom we have now under consideration. In
this case, however, not less than in the other, we must
be on our guard against supposing that the fault com
plained of is especially characteristic of the Church
of England, as distinguished from other Churches.
On the contrary, the Church of England has greater
powers and opportunities in this matter than are
possessed by any other Christian Church ; nor even as
regards the use which she makes of these abundant
facilities, does she contrast unfavourably with other
Churches, but very much the reverse. I3ut it is pre
cisely because this is so, that the Church's failure in
respect of the matter referred to becomes so apparent ;
here again it is a case of the Church not making the
most of her opportunities, and weakness arising from
this cause.
First, then, we complain that there is very little syste
matic teaching of this knowledge of ignorance imparted
or recommended to the rising generation of Churchmen
at that time in life when the mind is most fitted to
receive it. The proper time of life at which to learn
this lesson is that season of youth verging on man
hood which no longer sees the world with the eyes of
a child, but which is not yet " sicklied o'er with the
pale cast of thought." At an earlier age, this teach
ing might be the means of repressing that sense of
wonder which in childhood is of the very essence of
religion, whilst, if it is put off to a later time of life,
it cannot but create disappointment and vexation of
spirit by reason of the illusions it dispels as regards
the possibilities of knowledge. On the other hand, a
teacher may explain to youths and young men with
out occasioning them any shock that both in nature
and in human experience there are many things

CHAP. V THE ALIENATED CLASSES 219
which we do not know and which, in this life at any
rate, we can never hope to know ; that the Bible, no
doubt, has shed on our path light enough, and more
than enough, for us to walk by, but that it does not
pretend to furnish us with a key which will open all
doors, even as regards matters of life and conduct,
whilst on scientific and speculative matters it is for
the most part silent.
Nor is it only by exhibiting to them the necessary
extent of human ignorance that a teacher may be of
service to his pupils. He may also help them by
making reflections on this same ignorance, provided
at least that he does not allow his own conjectures to
be received as demonstrable facts, and does not pre
tend to be able perfectly to explain why it is good
for us not to know more than we do know, and does
not make light of our not knowing more, as if this
were not a heavy trial and one which to some men at
some times in their lives is not almost unendurable !
And if the teacher's conjectures are those of a good
and wise man, be their intrinsic value what it may,
they will often exercise a deep influence on the
pupil's mind, even after the substance of them has
been forgotten.
Such, then, is the value we ascribe to these lessons
of ignorance in youth and early manhood. But how
very seldom do any such considerations form a vital
and substantive part of the religious knowledge im
parted to young men ! There are, no doubt, indi
vidual teachers, whose handling of this subject is all
that could be wished ; but very little is done, and less
seems likely to be done by Churchmen generally, in
this direction.
But we must not take account merely ofthe Church's
sins of omission in this respect ; we must remember
that only too often the Church is herself an offender
against the spirit of the teaching we have been
recommending. For how much false knowledge and
unverifiable information, for how many confident

220 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part hi
assertions concerning things unknown and unknow
able, does not the Church make herself responsible in
the persons of her agents and ministers ! True, no
doubt, the clergy of late years have greatly improved
in this respect, and one of the most remarkable signs
of the times (which was a favourite subject of com
ment with Dean Stanley) is the infrequency of pulpit
references to certain matters of doubtful speculation
which formerly were in great demand. But even this
improvement is so unequally maintained, and is so
liable to exceptions, that it is very difficult to say as
regards many subjects at what point it is intended
to draw the line between knowledge and ignorance,
what subjects are held to be simply and purely un
knowable, and how far in respect to certain other
subjects hypothetical and conjectural judgments are
allowable. We should of course be the first to admit
that this plan of leaving the field open is very much
what ha^ given to the Church of England its character
for liberality and comprehensiveness, and we should
be the last to advocate the determination of such
questions as those referred to by ecclesiastical
authority. We look for further improvement rather
in the same direction in which improvement has
already been effected, i.e., from the better sense of
preachers and teachers, and from a more enlightened
public opinion.
It is, however, an unavoidable weakness of the
Church of England (whether or not the strength
thence derived may fairly be considered as a set off
against it) that she cannot by any official statements
and declarations free herself from all blame in this
matter. For, the amount of definiteness requisite in
these days, could only be obtained by some such
statement or declaration. Perhaps a time may come
when even this may be possible ; it may even not be
such a far distant time as those who believe less than
we do in the future of the Church of England suppose.
Meantime, it is a thing to hope for and to work for.

cHap, V THE ALIENATED CLASSES 22I
that our Church may be able to dispense with her
present ambiguities and inconsistencies, especially as
regards the determination of some questions as in
soluble, and of others as open or doubtful. As
matters at present stand, the want of such deter
mination is undoubtedly a source of weakness to the
Church, and it is so especially as regards those who
have been, or who are, in process of being alienated
from her communion. It is of these persons that we
have been thinking exclusively throughout what has
been said above as to the necessity of impressing on
men the extent of their ignorance as well as of their
knowledge. The Church of England pointedly dis
claims any pretension to infallibility, but she has
never made this disclaimer practical by applying it
to special questions. Until she does this, there will
always be those who will refuse to accept her teaching
— no doubt on other grounds as well — but certainly
on the ground that she attempts too much, or at all
events does not clearly determine where her know
ledge falls short. And this, though a small matter in
the eyes of those who have wandered far from the
paths of orthodoxy, is yet even to such persons a
cause of great irritation, whilst on those who are just
setting out on this path, it acts as a powerful stimulus
urging them to continue in the same direction.
There are of course other causes of the Church's
weakness besides those on which we have dwelt in the
preceding sketch. Some of these we have no space
to discuss, whilst others will remain to be considered
later. But as regards our present subject, we believe
that the chief causes, both of the strength and weak
ness of the Church, are those which we have assigned.
Not that in our judgment the Church of England has
it in her power, by paying more attention to the par
ticulars indicated, at once, or except very partially, to
remove the doubts and to silence the objections of
those who are unfavourably disposed towards her on
the above-mentioned grounds. Whatever may be the

222 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part hi
case in the future, we are not justified in expecting
any such transformation at present, perhaps not until
after a long time, and not until after many things
have happened. But the Church has a duty towards
those who are alienated from her which is quite irre
spective of the question as to how far her efforts are
likely to be successful in effecting a reconciliation.
If any Church has a mission in reference to the class
of persons we have described, it is the Church of
England ; she can, perhaps, do more for this class
than for any other. For, there is probably no class
which is more really attached to that which is most
characteristic in herself, viz., the practical type of her
religiousness and her humanising influence on life and
conduct. It is by a more serious and thoughtful use
of her opportunities, and by a more enlarged view of
her responsibilities as a teacher, that she will best
be able to fulfil her duty as regards this class of
persons who, we repeat, are far more than she is aware
of, bound up with her own future existence.

PART IV

THEOLOGY

" Unless Christianity be viewed and felt in a high and com
prehensive way, how large a portion of our intellectual and
moral nature does it leave without object and action." —
Coleridge.

CHAPTER I
THE ESSENTIALS OF A CATHOLIC THEOLOGY
The theological ideas of any given period are
difficult to present in their systematic connection, not
because they are in reality so many, but because the
same ideas reappear under so many different forms.
This has the effect amongst the Germans — as, e.g., in
the all-embracing Handbuch (so-called) der theologi-
schen Wis sens chaf ten} — of multiplying to a bewildering
extent the divisions and subdivisions of the several
branches of conteinporary theology. In England,
on the other hand, where the treatment of theological
subjects is in much closer dependence on the life of
the Churches, the theology of the age appears as
exhibiting an almost infinite variety of concrete
manifestations derived from the devotional instincts,
as well as from the personal characteristics, of the
popular preachers and teachers by whom it is for the
most part expounded.
These embarrassments are due in both cases alike
to the employment of a wrong method. A classifica
tion of fixed types — whether as regards the subject
matter itself or as regards the views, tastes, and
1 Handbuch der theologischen Wissenchaften in cncyclopd-
discher Darstellung mit besonderer Riicksiclit auf die Ent-
wicklungsgeschichte der ein:;elnen Diuiplinen. — Herausgege-
ben von Dr. Otto Zockler.

226 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part iv
tendencies of those who handle it — is as hopeless in
theology as it is in all other branches of enquiry. The
true method proceeds not by a co-ordination of classes
but by a synthesis of grades. The parts of theology
are not merely co-existent, but are connected together
by organic interdependence. It is true they preserve
their individuality. For if their unity is not of that
mechanical kind which is forced on the constituent
parts from the outside, so neither is it the unity of
chemical fusion in which the parts become merged and
lost in the whole. But though the parts are separate,
they are so only because and in so far as a unity grows
up and is developed out of them. Theology, therefore,
has in view a teleological aim (though, of course, not in
the old and discredited sense) and all its divisions,
departments, and heads of reference, are intended to
subserve that aim. The theological organism, in short,
is like any other organism in so far as that it is an
organism, as likewise in so far as that the stability of
its members is only relative, being conditioned by a
higher unity, which at once gives to them their being,
whilst it owes to them its own.
The construction of a system of theology according
to this plan would start from the idea of God in its
most simple, general, abstract, and indeterminate form ;
and would then proceed, without an)" break or gap
throughout its whole course, to the ultimate develop
ment of this same idea in the act of faith. The stages
of this graduated unity would be as follows : —
(i) Thc being, nature, properties, and mode of
activity to be ascribed to God, so far as these can
be ascertained from a consideration of the facts of
experience, exclusive of revealed religion.
(2) The realisation of this idea, in its concrete
historical embodiment which, to the Christian appre
hension, centres in Jesus Christ and in the Christian
Church, historically regarded.
(3) The dogmatic interpretation of the conclusions
arrived at under the two previous heads.

CHAP. I ESSENTIALS OF CATHOLIC THEOLOGY 227
(4) The act of faith, this being understood not as
a mere pious inclination of the feelings, but as a
cumulative effect of the whole demonstration, sub
jectively considered.
In this way, the act of faith in its most mature
form would but be a fulfilment of the yearnings of
the natural man after God, whether as seen in the
childhood of the individual or in that of the race,
or as seen in the attempts of philosophers " by
searching to find out God." It is indeed of the
essence of the demonstration that this family likeness
should exist between the first stage and the last,
and that they should be related to each other as
grades in a process of development rather than as
independent or even as merely corroborative results.'
And it is the same as regards each of the inter
mediate stages. Each requires to be considered in and
for itself, but not one of them is self-subsistent. Each
term in the series is not only relative to some other
term, but to the whole series and to its every part.
Thus, history is history, but the theologian has to
show what there is in histoiy which shapes itself to
meet the dogmatic demand, whilst, on the other
hand, not only must the dogmatic credenda be
referred back at each new point of departure to the
historical delineation, but both the historical and the
dogmatic statements must be exhibited, as at once the
outcome of the religion of nature and the necessary
presuppositions of the act of faith.
Nor is this treatment of theology as an organism
merely an intellectual exercise, but the apologetic
value of a system of theology depends on its suc
cessful prosecution of this same method. For
" apologetics " do not form a a separate branch of
theology, as is commonly supposed. The only
apology for itself which the Christian religion has to
^" Das Kind und der Greis beten den namlichen Inhalt ; aber
fiir den Greis ist in ihm die Fulle und Erfahrung des ganzen
Lebens." — Hegel.
Q 2

228 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART IV
offer, regarded under this its theological aspect, is
the mutual coherence of its parts, and its reasonable
ness as derived from this consideration.
But if such are the ideal requirements of theology,
how do they stand related to the actual presentation
of theological ideas at any given time .''
It is obvious — almost painfully so indeed— that
the theology of Church history does not follow any
prescribed order of presentation, still less the order
indicated above. We can, indeed, in a rough way,
explain the principle in each case on which the
succession of theological ideas depends — as, e.g., by
reference to the general influences of the age, the
relations of Church parties, the limitations imposed on
theologians by the necessity of meeting the arguments
of their opponents, etc. But such methods of explana
tion — besides that they do not attain to scientific preci
sion — do not profess to furnish a theoiy of origination
except so far as regards the historical antecedents of
the ideas in question. They do not attempt to
exhibit these ideas in their relationship to each
other as parts of a common system. Nor do they
even presuppose the existence of such a system, or
regard the services rendered by successive theologians
as contributory to its formation. In short, the ideal
of theolog)', which we have represented as consisting
in the evolution of a graduated unit)- throughout all
its stages, appears to have nothing answering to itin
the actual state of theolog)', as disclosed by history.
Before, howc\-er, wc blame theolog)' for its want
of a more progressi\-c conformity with the require
ments of an ideal system, we should be careful to
remember in what this conformity ma)- fairly be
expected to consist. In order to understand this
point, wc must conceive rightl)' of the meaning of the
word Catholic as applied not less to Christian
theology than to the Christian Church. For, just as
" the Church is not merel)' ?; KaOoXov," that is, " the
Church in general, as opposed to the Church of a

CHAP. I ESSENTIALS OF CATHOLIC THEOLOGY 229
particular place or nation, but 1) Kado\tKr) the Church
whose inward character is one of universality " ; ^ just
as "the title itself" (7/ Kado\iKri,i.e.) " is given to a single
branch of the Christian Society,"' just as " the real
opposition of ' Catholic ' is not ' local ' nor even
' partial,' but ' heretical,' so all this holds not less good
as regards the more theological application ofthe words
' catholic,' and ' catholicity '." ' The theology of a
nation or Church is not catholic or non-catholic,
according as it does or does not embrace and do full
justice to «// the branches of theology. It may develop
exclusively — or almost so — in one direction, and yet
if it implies and presupposes the existence of the
theological organism as a whole, and the existence
of the other parts of the organism as united in a
definite relationship with itself if, i.e., " its inward
character is one of universality," then, and in so far as
this is the case, it is a catholic theology.
According then to the view here taken, the theo
logical products of a given age would be tested
by reference to their susceptibility to a Catholic mode
of treatment. Each age has, and is entitled to have,
its own manner of giving effect to the Catholic idea,
and national and local theologies are no more anti-
catholic than are national and local Churches. Nor
are the forms, statements, methods, &c., of theology
required to contribute progressively to the construc
tion of a system. It is enough that the Catholic
unity should enter into and give its impress to the
theological determinations of any one period, enough
that it should govern their motions with reference to
each other and to itself
This is what is essential. But, of course, if at any
given time there are special facilities available for the
methodising and systematisation of theology — then
the theology of that age must, in addition, be judged
as regards its opportunities in this respect. The
nineteenth century, with its enlarged and ever-
' Mason, The Faith ofthe Gospel, pp. 248-249.

230 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART IV
increasing knowledge of the sciences, studies, and
disciplines ancillary to theological investigation, is
such an age, and must be judged accordingly. At
the same time, we must be careful not to treat
theology as if it were necessarily an affair of system-
making. This latter may be good, and may be
required under certain circumstances. The essential
requisite, however, is that the conclusions of theology
at each stage should be such as are capable of finding
a place in a Catholic system, though that system
in any one age may only have been worked at under
some one aspect.
But what is this Catholic system .' and how can it
be said that we have it before us to serve as a model .'
Now, once there existed in the Church a corporate
sense of what constitutes Catholicity. It was this
sense which gave to the Church its inspiration in the
selection of the books now contained in the canon of
the New Testament. But this sense has long since
been lost, lost so completely that our only means of
now recovering it is to go back to those same
Christian Scriptures, the catholicity of which was
once determined by it. Nor can a Catholic theology
be constructed on any other principle. For it must
not be supposed that any value attaches to the
systematic treatment of theology such as has been
sketched above, except so far as the method and
treatment of this latter proceed on Biblical lines. It
is from the Bible, and not from modern speculation,
that we derive the idea of a unity running through
the parts of theology, and connecting them in mutual
and organic interdependence to such an extent that
they are strictly not divisions of this unity, but rather
grades or stages in its development. It is from the
Bible that the idea of the blending together of the
elements of theology in their appropriate proportions
is alone to be obtained. No doubt, in attempting to
interpret the meaning of the Bible on these points we
are obliged to emplo)' abstract and speculative terms.

CHAP. I ESSENTIALS OF CATHOLIC THEOLOGY 231
No doubt also theologians may and do differ amongst
themselves as regards the exact nature of the inter
pretation preferred and the formulae of its expression.
None the less, however, it is with reference not merely
to the Catholic idea but to this idea as illustrated by
the Bible that all theology — all Christian theology at
all events — must be tested.' It is this consideration
which has been kept in view in the selection of the
fourfold method of treatment above suggested, and
which has led to the adoption of that method as the
basis of the following investigation.
^ Cf. 'Westcott, Epistles of SI. John, preface, p. vii. "The
fulness of the Bible, apprehended in its historical development,
answers to the fulness of life .... the real understanding of
the Bible rests upon the acknowledgment of its Catholicity."

CHAPTER II
THEOLOGY AND THE EIBLE
The following extract is from a paper contributed
by Professor J. A. Beet to the Expositor in 1S85.
" Exactly thirty years ago," he then wrote, "Bishop
(then Mr.) Ellicott published the first edition of the
first volume of his Commentaries on St. Raid's Epistles.
Of those years no feature in English literature has
been more marked than the number and excellence
of the expositions of Holy Scripture which have
followed the volume just mentioned. The improve
ment in this branch has been little less than a revolu
tion. To go back now to the commentaries preced
ing those of Ellicott and Alford is to descend to
a platform of sacred scholarship immeasurably below
that on which we now stand. Of the last ten years
the most conspicuous feature has been the number of
popular expositions and series of expositions, some
very good and others commonplace, designed to bring
the results of the best modern scholarship within
reach of all intelligent readers of the English Bible
" Amid this abundance of expository literature,
systematic theology has been somewhat neglected,
and has indeed with some persons fallen into dis
repute. There have appeared some ver)' good books
on Christian doctrines, but the number of them has
been small ; and efforts to build up a system of

CHAP. II THEOLOGY AND THE BIBLE 233
theology, or even to expound in its various relations
any one doctrine, have not unfrequently contrasted
unfavourably with the consecutive study of the
actual words of the sacred writers."
Now just as in the Reformation era the study of
the Bible was a consequence of the revival of learn
ing, this latter being itself due to the invention of
printing, the consolidation of Europe following upon
the defeat of the Turks, and the opening up of the
New World ; so unquestionably in our own days the
better understanding of Hebrew and Greek, of
Biblical geography and archjeology, and of the
science of textual criticism, has led to an increased
study of the Bible, and has perhaps indirectly been
the cause, or one cause, of a diminished interest in
systematic theology. These phenomena, however,
were the results of other secondary and determining
influences, in addition to this merely general one. At
first, perhaps, weariness of the partisan controversies
of the Oxford Movement had something to do with
them. The productions of a man like Alford may
have owed their origin negatively to this cause, which,
in any case, is a natural one to suggest with reference
to theologians whose best work was done during the
two decades succeeding the secession of Dr. Newman
from the Church of England. Yet, if it had gone no
further than this, the tendency indicated by Professor
Beet would have been of no very great importance,
indeed would scarcely have required notice. But at
a somewhat later time, other and different motives
were responsible for the direction taken by Biblical
investigations, which latter continued to be produced
in not less abundance.
I. The first of such motives showed itself in an
inclination to emphasise a purely Biblical religion at
the expense of ecclesiastical dogma. Here again we
may find a parallel in the history of the Reformation.
For the zeal of the early reformers for the Bible was
due, not merely to the influence of the New Learning,

234 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART iv
but to that influence conjoined with another, which
latter has been aptly described as " the spirit of reli
gious reform." " When the spirit which sought the
revival of learning joined itself with that of religious
reform, it produced reformers who aimed at freeing
men's minds from the bonds of the scholastic S)'Stem,
at setting up Christ and His Apostles instead of the
schoolmen as thc exponents of what Christianity
really is, and lastly at making real Christianity and
its golden rule the guide for men and nations, and so
the basis of the civilisation of the future." (See-
bohm's Era of the Protestant Revolution, p. 75.)
Very similar were the aims — allowing for altered
conditions — of the Biblical scholars and divines with
whom we are now concerned. These latter, in like
manner, set themselves to exhibit Christ's character
as the one and only true ideal of aspiration and
endeavour alike for nations and for each individual
man. There was, however, a new element contributed
by the nineteenth century reformers, which consisted
in a certain unique power of modernising the portrait
of Christ without vulgarising it. For, though sup
posing themselves to be aiming at the simple dis
covery of the truth as such, their actual method of
treatment was a subjective one, being really calcu
lated to convey a picture of Christ as satisfying the
ethical and social demands of our own times.
This point of view was far from being confined to
England, though in no other countiy were its repre
sentatives more highly gifted or more in earnest. We
see it in German)' — not indeed in all the so-called
Lives of Christ, which were so plentiful at the time
here referred to (for many of these latter were merely
critical, and, in some cases, simply and purely des
tructive) yet without doubt in some of them — typically,
for instance, in Schenkel's Charactcrbild fesu. We
sec it in France in the better and less frivolous
portions of Renan's celebrated biography, and in the
sermons of M. Bersier.

CH-4P. II THEOLOGY AND THE BIBLE 235
But without going outside England, we may judge
how much some such representation was needed from
the fact that all parties in the Church of England took
a leaf out of the same book ; though of course it was
only one party which did so for the theological or
anti-theological purpose mentioned above. It was
rather for the purpose of edification and instruction —
a purpose to which it very readily lent itself — that this
method became such a favourite in the Church at
large. The period was one of immense practical
activity, and called forth accordingly an abundance
of practically applied theology, chiefly of this subjec
tive type. Under this wider aspect it had — as
preachers — Robertson at its beginning and Liddon '
at its end whilst — in a more general sense under the
same aspect — it had during its middle portion Stanley
and Jowett. On the whole the sermons and writings
in question are the best — and some few of them will
probably form the most enduring — part of the theo
logy of the period now before us.
We see then that this method of interpreting
Scripture commended itself to Churchmen of the most
different ways of thinking, independently of its special
application by Churchmen of one way of thinking.
Such a fact — together with the fact of its employment
outside England — prepares us to find in this method
a true " note " of Catholicity. Its very subjectivity —
which might seem to conflict with this view — is but a
means of illustrating the inexhaustible richness and
many-sidedness of the historical Christ in relation to
humanity. The same lesson is brought home to us
' In spite of Liddon's frequent protests against the subjective
method, his charm consists in his subjectivity, more especially
as regards the interpretation of Scripture. Cf. his sermon on
The Sight of the Invisible (University Sermons, second series,
last sermon). In that sermon, after the utterance of such a
protest, he proceeds to give a portrait of Moses conceived as
the hero of a nineteenth century romance.
But Liddon was not unaware of the value of" the subjective
spirit ofthe age." Cf Some Elements of Religio7i, p. 5.

236 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART iv
by the negative aspects of this method, viz., in respect
of the clearance which it effected of the hindrances to
the appreciation of the historical Christ. This applies
to the overlaying of Scripture with dogma generally.
Against this danger both the Liberal and High Church
Schools directed a great part of their respective
energies. The Liberal theologians were no doubt men
of more distinction both as scholars and as teachers,
ancl they had rendered generally far more important
services to Biblical literature. Yet it is doubtful if
even the antidote which the Liberals administered to
this unscriptural Evangelicalism was more efficacious
than that of some of their High Church contempor
aries. Nothing, for instance, could be better in this
respect than the treatment of the doctrine of the
atonement by the lamented Canon Norris of Bristol,'
or than the treatment of the doctrine of election
b)' the learned rector of Honiton — Prebendary
Sadler." What we have said so far as regards the significance
of this tendency, leads to the conclusion that good
ancl valuable work was done at this time pre-eminently
by the Liberal school, but more or less b)' all schools,
of thought in the Church of England towards the pre-
^ Norris, Elements of Theology, pp. 163-240. Take, e.g.,
the following passage on p. 168 : " It has been roughly stated"
(by Oxenham, i.c!) " that for a thousand years (down to An-
selm's time) the Church taught that Christ paid and the Evil
One received the ransom ; and that since then the Church has
been divided between the Anselmic notion of a transaction
whereby the mercy gave satisfaction to the justice of God and
the Calvinistic idea of a transaction whereby the Son appeased
His offended Father. A healthy conscience recoils from all
three ideas. " 0f i) Tr)'i vffpeas — out -.ipon the insulting thought ! "
is Gregory Nazianzen's protest against the first ; the second
is artificial and scholastic ; thc third shocks us. None of the
three is to be found in Scripture."
-For S.adler's criticism, see his Co/nmenlary on ihe Romans,
chap. i.-v. in loco. The Commentary belongs to a later date than
that of which we arc here spealcing. But the teaching of the
author's earlier works as regards the doctrine of election is
precisely similar.

CHAP. II THEOLOGY AND THE BIBLE 237
sentation of the historical Christ, and towards the
removal of all the doctrinal additions, embellishments,
and distortions which had previously interfered with
this result. According to our explanation in the first
chapter, this class of work falls under the second
division of theology, understood in its organic connec
tions. That much more might have been done under
this head is of course true, and would still be true
even if much more had been done. It will not be
denied, however, that the contributions thus made
were in the highest degree helpful. But we are led
now to consider how far the historical theology of this
period satisfied another requirement which in our
view — as already stated — is not less essential, viz., the
possibility of effecting a transition from history to
dogma — or, in other words, from the second to the
third stage of theological development.
Many of the contributions of eminent scholars
which are now available for the purpose of determin
ing the relation of the Bible to its later doctrinal
developments, were thirty years ago non-existent.
More especially this was so as regards the best of the
now current expositions of the Pauline theology.
Yet some productions throwing light on this
question — and those not the least remarkable — had
already appeared at that time — as, e.g., Martensen's
Cliristian Dogmatics, Ritschl's Old Catholic Church,
Reuss's History of Christian Theology. And
everywhere on the Continent, in theological circles,
great interest was then and has since been displayed
in this question. In England, on the other hand,
there was considerable disinclination to engage in any
such discussions, and a corresponding predilection for
a purely Biblical theology, or for " the Bible without
dogma," as it was called. It is a great pity that this
cry should have been then raised, still more so that it
should have been taken up by the leaders of Liberalism
in the Church of England, and that these latter should
have endeavoured to make a clean sweep of the

238 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part IV
" after-thoughts of theology " instead of setting, them
selves to explain the inevitable expansion of Biblical
ideas into the forms which they assumed in the post-
apostolic age. Possibly the damaging association of
the "development of Christian doctrine" with
Romanism in the person of its author (though the
development theory is not in the least necessarily
connected with any such tendency) may have exer
cised a discouraging effect on the rising generation of
English theologians. Possibly likewise the subject
may have been rendered not less distasteful, in
a wholly different way, by the radicalism of F. C. Baur,
whose speculations were then much better known in
England than they are now. But whatever may have
been the cause of this neglect on the part of Liberal
theologians in England, the fact itself is greatly to be
regretted. For if this subject had been then investi
gated on the Church side, and had been continuously
handled by successive theologians down to the present
time, it cannot be doubted that a most healthy and
beneficial effect would thus have been produced on
the public mind. We should not then have had those
shocks occasioned to popular orthodoxy which result
as often as Christian doctrines and institutions are
traced back to the antagonisms of rival parties in
the early Church, or to the infiuence of Greek
Philosophy, or to the organisation of the Roman
Empire. The influence of these Liberal theologians, though
considerable \\'hilst it lasted, was not of long continu
ance. This was not on account of the defect above
indicated ; for this defect could not have been per
ceived except in the light of later, and indeed still
recent, experience. The decline was due rather to the
gathering strength of the Anglican Church system
which required that Scripture should be interpreted
more in accordance with its own ecclesiastical princi
ples. W'e shall now therefore consider how far the
ecclesiastical interpretation of Scripture was successful

chap. II THEOLOGY AND THE BIBLE 239
in establishing a connection between historical and
dogmatic theology, this being the problem which
necessarily came to the front so soon as the importance
of the historical view had been vindicated after the
manner above described.
II. The attempt thus initiated took the form of an
insistence, partly on the general necessity of approach
ing Scripture from a more objective standpoint, partly
on what the chief exponent of this view calls ' " The
great ' Church ' truth of God's Word," as supplying
the objective basis required. Considering the high
estimation in which this principle is now held both by
clergy and laity of the current Anglican type, it is
wonderful that the body of divinity by which it is
represented should not have been both more in quan
tity and better in quality. In truth, with the exception
of the writer and commentator above referred to, and
at most some two or three others, there has been no
theologian in the Church of England whose interpre
tation of Scripture on these lines has been of at all a
noticeable kind. Whatever may be thought of the
view itself, it is a matter for just complaint — especially
having regard to the popularity it has obtained — that
its exposition should have been so much neglected.
The result of this neglect is that the Anglican clergy
— the great majority of whom are predisposed in
favour of this view — are veiy ill-informed as to what
is involved in it. Hence arises the deplorable and
constantly spreading habit, of crediting passages of
Scripture with teaching on Church matters and illus
tration of Church principles, which were as little
dreamt of by the sacred writers as by their commen
tators in all subsequent ages. It is always a mis
fortune if opinions which are held by large numbers
of persons are not adequately set forth by some
competent authority, and this is so ciuite irre
spectively of the merits or demerits of the opinions
themselves. ' Sadler, i.c.

240 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part iv
But apart from these merely practical considera
tions, an ecclesiastical exposition of the New Testa
ment was much to be desired on its own account. Nor
is it intended to suggest that even such attempts as
were actually made in this direction by English
Churchmen were not, as far as they went, meritorious.
Indeed, this side of the teaching of Christ and His
Apostles had been so much neglected, that even its
misinterpretation and misapplication for Anglican
purposes served a good end by keeping it in view.
Let it be remembered that we are speaking now ofthe
necessity of bearing the conception of the Church in
mind under its Biblical aspect and in order to a right
understanding of the Bible. Under other aspects
this necessity may likewise be recognised, but here we
are not concerned with them. Now, no explanation
of the New Testament Scriptures is complete, unless it
postulates the formation of a Society or Church as the
ultimate aim both of Christ and His Apostles, and as
the beginning and end of the gospel histoiy. Nor
can it fairly be doubted that in some parts of the
gospels — as, e.g., in the central chapters of St. Mark's
Gospel — special attention is called to the intercourse
of Christ with His disciples and to the education
which they received from Him, in order that they
might be the means of spreading his influence over
the Christian brotherhood.' Nor, lastly, will it be
denied, that the apostolic writings of the New Testa
ment are dominated by this same idea of a kingdom
or Church, and that some of the most characteristic
conceptions contained in them acquire a new signifi
cance when understood in this light."
' " ^iva <0(ri /xer' avTov, kol 'Iva a77Q(rT^^.r} avTovs KT^pv<T(T€iv. —
(St. Mark iii. 14.)
^ As, e.g., the doctrine of election, explained by Sadler (in the
passage of his Coinineniary on the Romans, already referred to)
with reference to the choice of the Church in the first instance
rather than of individual Christians.
On the whole subject under discussion in this paragraph see

chap. II THEOLOGY AND THE BIBLE 241
Though, however, as much as this may be granted,
we cannot go further and say that any use has been
made by the school of theologians in question of this
conception of the Church as supplying an objective
basis for the connection of the historical and dogmatic
portions of the New Testament. They rightly insisted
on the necessity of an objective element, and they
were right also in attributing to the conception of the
Church an objective character of this kind. But how
under the influence of this conception the result was
brought about they do not tell us. We learn from
them nothing as to the welding together into a compact
unity of the diverse and antagonistic forces at work
in the Roman Empire during the first two centuries.
For all the notice they take of the development of
Christian doctrine, this latter might have been totally
unconcerned with the strange medley of ideas —
mystical, magical, philosophical, political — circulating
on the shores of the Mediterranean, and associated
together by no common bond until this was at length
introduced by the assimilative energy of the Christian
Church. These theologians, in short, have no historical
sense, and, failing in this respect, they fail also to per
ceive the true marks ofthe divine origin of Christianity,
and of the indwelling of the Divine Spirit. Instead
of endeavouring after a realisation of the Christian
Church as thus conceived, their whole purpose centres
in the discovery of merely external and mechanical
correspondences — in respect of doctrine, discipline,
and ritual — between the primitive Church and the
Churches of modern times, or, where no such corre
spondence exists, in the attempt to re-establish it. As
regards their method of dealing with Scripture, it
does not in kind materially differ from that of Bull
and Pearson, but is immeasurably less satisfactory.
For in the first place, those theologians had not the
the second volume of Ritschl's great classic, Die Christliche
Lehre der 'Vers'ohnung und Rechtfertigung, from which the
chief points emphasised above are derived. R

242 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part IV
advantage of living in an age of historical criticism.
And secondly, they only employed this method in
defence of the great mysteries of the Christian faith ;
whereas this method is employed now, in order to
give support to the latest new fashions in religion of
the nineteenth century. In this respect no books that
have appeared in our times are better fitted to serve
as a counteractive than those which we shall proceed
to discuss next.
III. We come now to treat of a school of Biblical
interpretation which is one of the chief glories ofthe
Church of England, not only in its recent history but
throughout its whole course. It need hardly be said
that this eulogistic description is intended to refer to
what may be most appropriately and conveniently
designated as the Cambridge school, and specially to
the writings and commentaries of its two most eminent
scholars — the late and the present Bishop of Durham.'
The first thing which strikes us in the present con
nection is that this school, apart from its more
distinctive merits, combines in itself the characteristic
excellences of thc schools already described. For
these Cambridge critics — at all events the best of
them — are as free from bias and partisanship as was
Alford. If they have not the same keen sense of the
solidarity of human life as giving reality to the Biblical
narrative in relation to our own times, which we find
in Stanley, Jowett, and the author of Ecce Homo, their
appreciativeness of the Bible is scarcely less many-
sided, whilst their knowledge rests on far firmer
foundations. Lastly, if they do not insist so much on
\\\efact of the corporate or " Church " spirit pervading
the New Testament as is done by theologians more
ecclesiastically minded, they make far more use of this
fact,- and at the same time are entirely guiltless of
' This school has, however, now extended far beyond Cam
bridge, and is by no one better represented at the present time
than by the Irel.md Professor of Exegesis at Oxford.
- Cf , e.g., W'estcott's essay on " The Two Empires— the

chap. II THEOLOGY AND THE BIBLE 243
its perversion for Church purposes after the manner
which is now unfortunately so common.'
But we have here to do with the Cambridge school
only under one special aspect, and it is for this
reason that the above appreciation of its general
merits has been judged necessary. For though the
unique distinction of this school is such that it does
not need to be heightened by any praise, much less
by that of the present writer, there is yet something
unsatisfactory in the attempt to estimate the value
merely of a part of the work done by an eminent body
of scholars, without an accompanying recognition of
the value of their lohole work. This is so, especially
in the case before us, for the reason that the historico-
theological problem with which alone in this place we
are concerned, does not appear to us to have been
more than very partially solved by these Cambridge
divines, however much it may have been relieved by
them of many of its difficulties. Hence, our judg
ment as regards their contributions under this head
being a qualified one, might, if this were not guarded
against, produce the impression that our judgment
upon their whole work was similarly qualified.
On the other hand, it cannot fairly be held to be an
arbitrary method of procedure that the productions,
at all events of Lightfoot and Westcott, should be
considered in connection with this problem. For the
writings of St. Paul and St. John, taken together,
furnish the key to its solution, and it is with these
writings (not to speak of others scarcely less import
ant in their bearing on the same problem) that the
two theologians in question are respectively identified.
Let us then take an example illustrative of
Lightfoot's manner of dealing with this problem.
For this purpose, we shall examine into his conception
Church and the World," in his edition oi Si. John's Epistles,
p. 24q.
' Cf. Lightfoot, " The Christian Ministry," Commentary
on the Philippians, pp. 181-269. R 2

244 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART iv
of Pauline cloctrine as regards its relationship to
the first of what he so admirably distinguishes as
" the three most important types of dogmatic and
systematised religion (whether within or outside the
pale of Christendom) " viz. : — (i) " Judaism and Judaic
Christianity, (2) Heathen" (?>., Western) " Philosophy,
and (3) Gnosis."
Now, with regard to the first of these " confronting
systems " (the only one which our space admits
of our considering), Lightfoot's aim is to vindicate, in
opposition to the Tiibingen School, the essential equal-
it)', as regards the importance assigned to them in the
New Testament, of the Judaic and Pauline elements
ofthe Gospel. "If," he says, " the primitive Gospel
was — as some have represented it — merely one of
many phases of Judaism, if those cherished beliefs
which have been the life and light of many generations,
were after-thoughts, progressive accretions, having no
foundation in the person and teaching of Christ, then,
indeed, St. Paul's preaching was vain, and our faith
is vain also."
In order to refute any such idea, he endeavours to
prove, and more or less does prove, that the Jewish
and Gentile Gospels co-exist and supplement each
other, and that, not only in the Acts of the Apostles,
but also in those writings of the New Testament
whose genuineness is undisputed, viz., the Galatians,
1st and 2nd Corinthians, and the Romans; the
evidence thus furnished being borne out by that of
the Apocalypse of St. John, ist Epistle of St. Peter,
&c. He further insists that the relations of St. Paul
^\¦ith the older Apostles were really friendly, at all
events that such differences as arose between the two
sides do not constitute the setting up of two rival and
opposed factions, being due merely to divergences of
opinion as regards practical issues, as likewise to
human weakness — especially on the part of St. Peter
— and to St. Paul's own missionary fervour. There
' Introduction to the Galatians, p. xi.

CHAP. II THEOLOGY AND THE BIBLE 245
was, he admits, intense bitterness and hatred between
the Judaisers and their opponents, but not between
St. Paul and the Twelve — the implication, of course,
being that St. Paul's ¦ statement of doctrine was un
affected by any disturbing influences of this kind, and
that in this respect the teaching of his admittedly
genuine Epistles is the same as that of the whole of
the rest of the New Testament.
These conclusions are in close dependence on
Lightfoot's exegesis ofthe Epistle to the Galatians, and
are likewise considered in their connection with such
evidence on the subject as is afforded by early Chris
tian literature. The effect of the whole demonstra
tion, when its different parts are thus taken duly into
consideration and massed together, is almost irresistible
— more especially as against the counter explanation
of the Tiibingen School, which, however, in the above-
quoted passage from his introduction to the Epistle,
Lightfoot states in its most extreme form. Nor can
we be too thankful for Lightfoot's well-justified pro
test against trying to read between the lines of the
Epistle, as, e.g., when he says (p. 373), " A habit of sus
picious interpretation, which neglects plain facts and
dwells on doubtful allusions, is as unhealthy in
theological criticism as in social life, and not more
conducive to truth."
But after all, the question arises as to what sort of
view is thus obtained of Pauline doctrine in its rela
tions with its environment. Must we, because the
Tiibingen account of the genesis of that doctrine
(whether as due to a conflict or to a compromise
between two rival parties) has in the main broken down,
refuse to believe in the reality of any influence of this
kind as affecting the result .' Again, can it be main
tained, even on the evidence of the four undisputed
Epistles, that St. Paul's differences from the original
Apostles did not go further than Lightfoot is disposed
to admit .-' Who can read, in the Greek, 2nd Corin
thians, ch. X., and not find in the opposition between

246 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART iv
spirituality and carnality traces of a deeper antago
nism than on Lightfoot's principles can be explained .'
And is not Lightfoot himself sometimes over-ingeni
ous in his explanations, as, e.g., when he writes with
regard to " tow VTrepXiav atroaroXwv." (2nd Cor
xi. 5, xii. II.) "There is in the original a slight.
touch of irony which disappears in the trans
lation ; but the irony loses its point unless the exclu
sive preference of the elder Apostles .is regarded as
an exaggeration of substantial claims " — or, as when
he thus interprets 1st Corinthians iii. 4. "For while
one saith, I am of Paul, and another, I am of Apollos :
are ye not carnal ? Who then is Paul, and who is
Apollos .'' " as follows — " Apollos was so closely con
nected with him that he could use his name without
fear of misapprehension. But in speaking of Cephas,
he had to observe more caution : certain persons
persisted in regarding St. Peter as the head of a rival
party, and therefore he is careful to avoid any seem
ing depreciation of his brother Apostle." The effect
of Lightfoot's masterly analysis is indeed only further
to convince us of the impossibility of explaining the
genesis of Christian dogma except on the assumption
of a certain amount of real and not merely superficial
opposition between St. Paul and the Twelve, and more
generally, of a radical opposition between Jewish
and Gentile Christianity as in part determining the
doctrinal contents ofthe New Testament.
In this, as in other instances, Lightfoot is too con
troversial, too exclusively devoted to the aim of
defeating his opponents for the time being. Thus,
he might have taken advantage of the fact (to which
he himself refers, see p. 347, note) that the representa
tives of the Tubingen School in our own days, with
Hilgenfeld at their head, have modified many of their
conclusions, to be more accommodating towards them,
and to point out the clement of truth which those
conclusions undoubtedly contain. Anotherthingwhich
personally we regret in Lightfoot is his almost entire

CHAP. II THEOLOGY AND THE BIBLE 247
neglect of, and probably contempt for, what is known as
the psychological method of explanation as applied to
Pauline doctrine. It is a method which is — it may
be admitted — liable to great abuse, but one critic, at
any rate, Professor Otto Pfieiderer, has shown us how
it may be employed with caution and discrimination.
But whatever may have been the cause, there is in the
result — as it seems to us — far too much jealousy as re
gards " origins," far too little admission of a give-and-
take between Christianity and thc surrounding world,
and a consequent failure to appreciate the extent ofthe
obligations of Christian doctrine to non-Christian
influences. The existence of such obligations is no
more derogatory to the divine character of Christian
doctrine than it is to the divine character of Christ.
In neither case, we may 'oe sure, was the relationship
such as Lightfoot's method, with its resolutely guarded
statements, its points balanced against each other, its
free admissions and yet not less weighty qualifica
tions, would lead us to suppose. The Church of
those first days was much freer and more malleable
in its contact with outsiders than is represented by
the " thus far and no further " of even the greatest of
English theological critics. But this is saying no more
than that the Church then was animated by the
Spirit and influence of Christ to an extent which
has been unexampled since. And indeed until with
in recent times the person and character of Christ
were in like manner kept too much aloof from their
historical surroundings and too little humanised with
reference to mankind at large.
As we have seen, however, a great deal has been
done in the present generation towards effecting an
improvement in this latter respect, so much so that
the theological problem which now most needs atten
tion is not this one, but rather that other problem on
which in the present connection we have been insist
ing. And yet the first problem — if we may say so —
waits for its full solution on the adequate treatment

248 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part IV
of the second. For the bright rays which went forth
from Christ will never be seen in their clearness until
it is shown how the world, which was lighted and
warmed by them, reflected back its sympathy. The
contributions of Lightfoot towards this result are of
immense value. This is so especially as regards the
massiveness of the knowledge he has brought to bear
upon the whole question, not less than as regards the
skill which he has exhibited in connection with special
points. Nor is his criticism by any means always
subject to those limitations above mentioned which he
has imposed on himself ; often he shakes himself loose
from them.' At the same time, we cannot say that the
discussion of the problem has yet been placedon its right
footing, still less that the problem itself has been solved.
Westcott's view of the relation of Christian doctrine
in its origin to contemporary influences is very similar.
We may perhaps say, however, that he is more in
clined by character, though not more by intellect (if
indeed this distinction can be maintained), to liberality
and breadth of view than is Lightfoot. Indeed it
would be the height of injustice and absurdity to
accuse the author of The Gospel of the Resurrection
and of Christus Consummator, of anything even ap
proaching to narrowness. But the whole object of
this criticism will have been misunderstood if it is
supposed to be its intention to urge this accusation
against either of these two equally distinguished men.
Rather, their non-liability to this reproach is taken
for granted, and is made the basis of proportionately
high expectations as regards their treatment of the
subject now under discussion.
' Where Lightfoot does not feel himself in opposition to any
particular school of criticism — as in the Commentary on the
Pliilippians — he is seen ethicall)', though perhaps not as a theo
logical critic, at much greater advantage. The essay on " St.
Paul and Seneca " in that Commentary is a very noble one and
leaves little to be desired (cf. p. 292), and the notes are full of
suggestive moral teaching. See on chap. i. 27, 28 ; chap. ii.
12, 13 ; iii. 2 and 3 ; iv. i, &c.

CHAP. II THEOLOGY AND THE BIBLE 249
Let us, however, now proceed to give some ex
amples of Westcott's mode of treatment.
Now, if we confine ourselves to his Commentary on
St. fohn's Gospel, we find that in respect of at least
two lines of investigation, Westcott has contributed
perhaps more than any other commentator, though
many others have worked on the same lines, and
have arrived at like results.
(a) No one, for instance, has been more successful
in exhibiting the Jewish substratum of the fourth
Gospel, or in illustrating the extent to which that
Gospel is throughout leavened by Jewish associations.
This is on a par with Lightfoot's similar demonstra
tion with regard to St. Paul's Epistles, though it must
be said that the points made by Westcott, if not the
more conclusive, are by far the more original and
suggestive. (/S) Westcott's next most original contribution to the
interpretation of the fourth Gospel is his account of its
plan, arrangement, and development. That it was
written for a special purpose, that it takes an artistic
form in respect of the presentation of its subject, that its
characters are types, that it is full of " symbolism ": all
this Westcott not only admits, but emphasises. Such
teaching is not indeed in itself particularly original,
but it is so as proceeding from orthodox theologians
like Westcott and Godet, for it has usually been made
the basis of attempts to represent this Gospel as of
non-Johannine origin, and as a mere dramatisation of
history. How then do these two chief characteristics of
Westcott's method affect his exposition of the fourth
Gospel .'
This question requires to be considered in relation
both to the metaphysical and to the historical aspects
of that Gospel.
As regards the former, or metaphysical aspect of
the fourth Gospel, Westcott assigns to it a secondary
position in comparison with that which it occupied in

250 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART iv
the last generation. This, in fact, has been the
tendency of recent criticism, whether orthodox or
otherwise. "An impartial study of the Johannine
theology," says the ultra-impartial Reuss, " must
always lead to thc conclusion that its metaphysical
side is not thc author's aim, but is rather made use of
as a support to his mysticism, which latter is his only
fully developed purpose, and that to which he consis
tently adheres. On the other hand, the metaphysical
passages are at every point interrupted by popular
discourses repugnant to them. Hence, there is entire
justification for regarding this metaphysic as not
strictly the author's own, but as derived by him from
some other source." ^
What then, according to Westcott, was this other
source ?
Westcott maintains that the doctrine of the Logos
(which of course is the metaphysical reference in
question) was the result of " three lines of preparatory
revelation " in the Old Testament. On the other
hand, " the apostolic writers borrowed from him
(Philo, i.e!) either directly or indirectly forms of
language which they adapted to the essentially new
announcement of an Incarnate Son of God. So it
was that the treasures of Greece were made contribu
tory to the full unfolding of the Gospel. But the
essence is not his," etc.
This is that same jealousy of which we have spoken,
and which we regard as a limitation.
The age in which this Gospel was written — no
matter what may be its date — was an age, perhaps
beyond all others in the world's history, of fusion and
combination. In spite, therefore, of Westcott, and
many other scarcely less eminent authorities, it can-
1 Geschichte der heil/'gen Scliriftcn des Neuen Testaments.
S. 214 der 3. Aufl.
With regard to the doctrine of the Logos, the real question is,
not as to its origin, but as to the application made of it by the
evangelist. This latter was very little metaphysical, but rather
mystical and devotional.

CHAP. II THEOLOGY AND THE BIBLE 251
not but appear as uncritical to say that the doctrine
of the Logos was the product of one class of in
fluences and no more ; whilst with regard to the dis
tinction between the matter and the form of this
doctrine, the difficulty of determining where the one
ends and the other begins seems to be too great to
admit in the present case of this mode of explanation,
which in all cases is a most slippery and dangerous
one to employ.^
But a far more important point is that touching the
historical element of the fourth Gospel. Now, there
is nothing necessarily incompatible between West
cott's theory of the authorship of the Gospel and his
theory of its character as an artistic, literary, and
even dramatic, production. But it does not seem
that justice is done to this theory in the application
which is made of it in the following passage. " The
feeling of characteristic life in the fourth Gospel is
practically decisive as to its apostolic authorship.
Those who are familiar with the Christian literature
of the second century will know how inconceivable it
is that any Christian teacher could have imagined or
presented — as the author of the fourth Gospel has
done — the generation in which the Lord moved, the
hopes, the passions, the rivalries, the opinions by
which His {i.e., the Lord's) contemporaries were
swayed, had passed away, or become embodied in
new shapes." It is not that this contention is not
capable of being maintained so far as regards its
negative conclusion, but rather that it is objectionable
in so far as it suggests the idea that the character and
grouping of the historical data of the fourth Gospel
are independent of associations engendered by a non-
Jewish environment. Surely, the characteristics by
which this Gospel is marked are, in respect of
the complexion given to the narrative, to be
ascribed to the evangelist's subsequent experiences
as well as to his previous Jewish experiences. A
' It is to be regretted that Mr.Gore should have made use of this
same untrustworthy distinction. — {Bampton Lectures, p. loi.)

252 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART IV
mere vivid realisation of these latter certainly cannot
be considered as sufficient to account for the peculiar
product in question. Nor could the evangelist have
dramatised the facts merely as the result of his own
recollection of them, and in default of the suggestive
impressions of later history. At all events, if West
cott is right in holding that the evangelist wrote
with a special aim, and followed a tendency of his own
in the selection of his materials, it is but going a step
further to say that this tendency must have been
derived from contemporary influences of speculation,
and that these latter are therefore essential considera
tions in determining the theological character of the
fourth Gospel.'
Neither in this criticism, any more than in that on the
commentaries of Bishop Lightfoot, has the writer's aim
been a controversial one. If it had been so, he would
indeed have been engaged in an impar congressus
Ac/ullcioiihe most absurd kind. All that he has attemp
ted to do has been, to state and explain what seem to
him necessary requirements of any and every exposi
tion of the fourth Gospel ; to express his belief that
these requirements have not been fully satisfied by
English theologians — as represented by their foremost
champion — and to emphasise the importance of a
modification, in this respect, more especially with
reference to the historico-theological problem above
formulated. 1 It is brought out very remarkably in Reuss's Histoire de
la Tlidologie ChrMenne (Vol. 1 1., pp. 479-487) how the abstract-
mystical (rather than metaphysical) expressions, which are so
characteristic of the fourth Gospel — vi"., such as *Sr — Zmi/ —
'KyaixT] — may be shown to have exact historical equivalents cor
responding with them, e.g.
<I>a>$-  . hihafTKoKo^, xiii., 13.
hihaxn, vii., 16.
Za»;'  . aiToBaVT), xii., 24.
TidhaiTTfV yl/vx'iv, x.,15. etc., etc.
'AyiiTTi] ...  uTTiiSfi-y/xa, xiii., 15.
Now this double-sided aspect of the fourth Gospel is the feature
intended to be referred to above as combining two different
classes of experience.

CHAPTER III
GOD AND NATURE
That increased study ofthe Bible — the nature and
extent of which formed the subject of the previous
chapter — owed its origin to a combination of the new
learning with the tendencies either of Church parties
or of schools of thought at the Universities. It was
thus not in itself a popular movement, though it
might and did leaven with its influence the tone ol
popular religious literature. The non-popular charac
ter, however, attaching to these Biblical investigations,
was due not merely to the extent of the attainments
which they require on the part of those who make use
of them, but also to the fact that they are from their
very nature concerned more with details than with
general principles. A science which confines itself
to special points of criticism is not nearly so capable
of attracting notice and arousing enthusiasm as one
which deals in large and high-sounding abstractions,
even though these latter are not more understood
than are the niceties of scholarship. It was for this
reason that the generalisations of physical science —
more especially in their relations with religion — made
such an impression on the semi-educated public
during the latter part of the period here referred to.
The very fact that the)' ze'^;r generalisations was suffi-

254 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part iv
cicnt to obtain for them, if not a deep, at all events a
widespread influence.
The nature of the influence thus exerted has been
already sufficiently enlarged upon so far as regards
its effects on the general public. It is only referred
to again here, in order to take note of the apologetic
obligations which it imposed, or was thought to im
pose, on theologians. These latter suddenly found
their contemporaries absorbingly interested in a
wholly new class of questions. It not unnaturally
seemed to them, under these circumstances, that the
demand for a Christian treatment of these questions,
and for a defence of the faith against the attacks of
men of science, was of imperative urgency. But the
theologians who undertook this task were for the most
part very ill-qualified for it. Not only had they had
no scientific training, but — what was far more serious
— they were unfamiliar with scientific ways of think
ing. The result was, the multiplication of a class of
productions not only worthless in themselves, but far
inferior to what the authors of them could have
achieved, if they had been employed in some other
direction. Seldom indeed have any apologetic efforts
been less calculated to serve the purpose for which
they were intended, or brought less credit to their
promoters. At thc same time, there is an appreciable amount of
progress to be recorded as regards the treatment of
this class of questions by the leaders of religious
thought in the Church of England. Of this progress
we propose now to indicate some of the chief
features. The subject of our remarks is that which it has
been attempted to convey under the title prefixed to
this chapter, \-iz., God and Nature. According to the
explanation given in tlie first chapter, it will be under
stood that -wc are thus taken back to the earliest stage
in the development of the theological process, that,
nameh', which consists in the determination of the

CHAP. Ill GOD AND NATURE 255
nature of God. It is, however, only with that part of
this determination which concerns God in His relation
to Nature that we have here to do. For the period of
theological histoiy now under review was not at all
inclined — was indeed profoundly disinclined — to in
vestigate the essential nature of the Deity. In proof
of this assertion, if at least it requires proof, it may
be sufficient to mention that little, if any, new light
was attempted to be thrown during this period on
such much debated and often renewed subjects of
theological interest as those of God's existence (with
its proofs). His Personality, the Divine free will, etc.
On the other hand, the connection of God with
natural law, and with the phenomena of natural life,
was the characteristic topic of discussion throughout
the whole of this period, and has since continued so.
It is true that the questions thus raised were often
only older ones in a new shape. But even in such
cases, it was necessaiy that the form of the questions
discussed should take its colouring from the associa
tions of physical science, whilst where the novelty
was not merely nominal but real, this necessity was
by so much the more increased.
The progress then which has been already predi
cated of this period in respect of the investigations
referred to, will here be represented as twofold, viz. :
I. Science recognised.
2. Science made use of
I. Professor Drummond, writing in the Expositor
as regards "the contribution of Science to Christi
anity," describes the course of the dealings entered
into between the two parties as follows : " After the
first quarrel — for they began the centuries hand-in-
hand — the question of Religion to Science was simply
' How dare you speak at all .•" ' Then, as Science held
to its right to speak just a little, the question became
' What new menace to our creed does your latest dis
covery portend .-' ' By-and-by both became wiser and
the coarser conflict ceased. Then we find Religion

256 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part iv
suggesting a compromise and asking simply what
particular adjustment to its last hypothesis Science
would demand." Whatever may be thought of this
as a description of the whole history of the relation
ship referred to, it certainly indicates not unfairly the
progressive inclination of English Churchmen in
recent times.
Not that even at the beginning of the period here
in question there was amongst skilled theologians, as
distinguished from Churchmen generally, any such
disposition towards Science as is implied by the ques
tion, " How dare you speak at all .-' " It would, for
instance, be a gross misrepresentation to attribute a
depreciatory, not to say defiant, spirit of this kind to
the teaching of that most eminent thinker in reference
to this subject, J. B. Mozley. For the well-known
Bampton Lectures on " Miracles " are certainly not
«;?^'z'-scientific either in intention or in effect. Nor,
though no doubt they are characterised by a tendency,
inherited from Newman, to minimise the universality
of natural law, is there in them a word of disrespect
to the claims of physical science within its own
sphere. But though Mozley's teaching (which we
regard as typical of the best English theology of his
time) was not ««^'/-scientific, it may with great
appropriateness be spoken of as extra-scientific, and
it is in that respect that it stands in such remarkable
contrast with the teaching of later times.
Mozley is indeed not more anxious to vindicate the
reality of supernaturalism than he is to assert its
underivative and independent character, whether as
against physical explanations on the one hand, or
references to unknown laws of nature on the other.
It is true that this disinclination on Mozley's part is
evinced chiefly in connection with the possibility of
the occurrence of the Gospel miracles, and that his
treatment of the ordinary course of nature in its
relation to God — as in his beautiful sermon on
"Nature" in the Univcrsitv Sermons is far more

chap. Ill GOD AND NATURE 257
appreciative of the Divine immanence. But we are
not concerned here with Mozley's whole position as
regards this question so much as with the representa
tive character of that tendency which finds most
fitting expression in his Bampton Lectures.
That tendency consisted in the assertion of a
dualism — the natural order on the one side, divine
interpositions and interferences on the other. What
ever inherent sympathy there may be between the
two classes of phenomena thus contrasted — and the
existence of such sympathy is of course not denied as
a possibility — there is, according to this view, no con
necting link between them discoverable and determin
able except the fact of their common derivation from
God and the need for a reversal of the order of nature
in the interests of man's redemption. It was a
point of view not uncommon under other aspects
amongst Mozley's contemporaries. Mansel e.g. found
it necessary to insist on the impossibility of a
rational theology in order to emphasise the claims of
" Revelation," just as Mozley's aim was to lead up to
the same conclusion by representing the divine agency
as exerted upon a world of phenomena external to,
or at least not standing in any demonstrable connec
tion with, itself
The extreme sensitiveness of English religious
thought in subsequent years to the influences of
physical science gradually produced a change, the effect
of which was to bring Religion and Science nearer
together. It would even be possible approximately
to trace the stages of this process, if our space
allowed of the attempt being made. For our present
purpose, however, it will perhaps be sufficient to esti
mate the net result of the succeeding period by
passing on to consider the view taken of the relations
of Religion to Science nearly twenty years later
(1865-1884) in the Bampton Lectures of Bishop
Temple. The position ofthe two lecturers is in many
respects, if not the same, at lea it very similar. This

258 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part iv
is so, at all events, as regards the doctrine laid down
in both sets of lectures respecting the belief in the
Uniformity of Nature, as likewise respecting the
dualism of the Natural and Supernatural and the
" interference " with Nature which is involved in the
occurrence of supernatural events.
Yet, in certain other respects, some merely of degree
and implying only an extension of the same point of
view, some, however, suggestive of a changed attitude
in reference to the whole question, the teaching of the
later Bampton Lectures differs from that of the earlier
ones, and we can only explain this difference as due
to the influence of physical science in the interval.
Thus, with regard to the differences of degree, it was
certainly as a concession to the physical view that
Temple assigned such much narrower limits than did
Mozley, both to the freedom of the will and to the
sphere of the miraculous. Whether in either case
religion is helped as against science by this reduction
to a minimum^of the points disputed between them, is
extremely doubtful — or rather it is not doubtful that
Aubrey Moore is right in sa)'ing with regard to the
reduction in the first case,' " We gain nothing . . . by
limiting the sphere of freedom to a comparatively small
area. It is the story of the Sibylline books over again.
We offer less and less, but we always demand the
same price, viz., an exception to the law of uniformity,
and an admission that a natural science of man is impes-
sible" And with regard to the reduction in the second
case :" " It helps nothing to reduce miracles to as small a
number as possible, though this method is often tried."
But here we are speaking only of the increasing influ
ence of physical science on the current treatment of
religion, and Temple's concessions, therefore, to meet
the objections of science are illustrations in point.
It is, however, as regards the acceptance of the
doctrine of evolution — not indeed in reference to
' Science and the Faith, jo. "j-].
- Ibid., p. 99.

chap, ih GOD AND NATURE 259
" first origins," but as regards subsequent modifications
(this latter being the only sense in which science
demands its acceptance), that the influence here
referred to is most significantly illustrated by the
Bampton Lectures of Bishop Temple. Having arrived
at this point, there is no need to pursue further the
comparison between Temple and Mozley. It was
not to be expected that in the year 1865 a theologian
should have come to terms with an hypothesis, which
was, at that time, far from having obtained the assent
of the majority even of men of science. Nor do we
know what use Mozley would have made of the
hypothesis even if it had been assented to by him.
Probably it would have been much the same use as
was made of it afterwards by Temple, though the
thinker would naturally have far excelled the man of
action in his mode of treatment. Our point is simply,
the closer relationship which religion and science
entered into during the interval between Mozley and
Temple, as evidenced by their respective Bampton
Lectures. We regard this fact — supposing it to be
admitted — as a sign of progress, quite apart from the
admissibility or otherwise of the theories growing out
ofit. Such theories rapidly succeed each other in the
course even of only a few years, and mankind will
change its mind many times over on this subject
before its judgment concerning it will be of much
practical value. Meanwhile, it is of essential import
ance that the two sets of facts should be seen in their
mutual relations, instead of being separated from, and
opposed to, each other. Everything, therefore, that
tends towards this result is a step in the right
direction. For this reason an even more cordial recognition is
due to the younger theologians of the Oxford school,
whose sympathetic utterances as regards the rela
tions of religion and science have formed not the least
remarkable feature of their recent development. For
example — ^" They " (men of science, that is) "are in
S 2

26o THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART IV
their sphere appointed fellow-workers with us,
appointed teachers for us ... . even when themselves
unconscious of it, the)' are prophets of a new know
ledge, which is in the end a knowledge of God."' " It
will be his (that is the Christian Apologist's) to show,
not merely that the orderly method and the divine
purpose do not contradict one another, but that each
implies the other and is incomplete without it."-
" The age is scientific as well as practical, and science
knows nothing of isolated exceptions."^
These are only a few out of many passages conceived
in a similar sense which the writings of the Oxford or
Lux Mundi School contain, and which are of the
essence of their teaching. And, as in the previous
case, so here, the evidence of the writings of Church
men may be regarded as illustrating the temper of
their minds, quite independently of any particular
application made by them of the conclusions of
science for their own theological purposes.
The " even more cordial recognition " which we
declared above to be the due of this school has
reference not merely to its more sympathetic, but also
to its more independent, treatment of science in rela
tion to religion. Churchmen, when they adopt a
conciliatory attitude as regards this question, some
times become so servile in their submission as to be
quite unable to distinguish between the claims of
science and those of mere pseudo-science. Not so thc
school of writers here in question. Not only do they
supply us with plentiful reminders, to the effect that
" panic fear of new theories is as unreasonable as the
attempt to base the eternal truth of religion on -ivhat
may eventually prove to be a transient phase of
scientific belief;"-* but often they enter on most
1 Dr. Talbot, Keble College Sermons, p. 62.
- y\ubi-ey Moore, Science and ihe Faith, p. 105.
¦' Rev. J. R. lllingworth. Expositor, vol. iii. of third series,
161. ' .\ubrey Moore, Science and the Faith, t^. 162.

chap, in GOD AND NATURE 261
vigorous and, in the best sense aggressive, criticisms
of the scientific position, or recall to us the right use
of scientific terms: for example, force, matter, law of
nature, etc. In short, whether we have regard to
its fairness, or to its friendliness, or to its independ
ence, the general disposition of this school towards
science and scientific men is, as it seems to us,
admirable. 2. But not only are we justified in asserting this
more cordial recognition of science by theologians
and the prevalence of a better understanding between
science and religion in consequence, but there is a
further advance noticeable in the shape of a theological
interpretation of science and, more particularly, of the
scientific theory of evolution. It is one thing to
recognise a relationship ; it is another to profess to be
able to explain it, and to generalise as to the unity of
purpose connecting the related members. This latter,
however, is the attempt which has been made by the
theologians last referred to, though it is by no means
of them only, or of them even chiefly, that we should
have to make mention, if it were not that we are here
concerned exclusively with the theology of the Church
of England. This new view of science and ofthe evolu
tion theory is indeed familiar under its more general
aspects to most persons who are at all conversant with
the history of recent philosophical speculation. Its
novelty in the case before us consists, partly in its
theological application, but still more in its accept
ance by Anglican divines. We will now endeavour,
chiefly by means of quotations taken from the works
of these latter, to indicate its leading features.
The truth which .it is desired to establish is to the
effect that the God of Christianity is likewise the God
of Evolution. For this purpose it requires to be
shown that God acts in both spheres in the same
manner, that in short the Divine operations are
characterised throughout their whole extent by unity ;
and secondly, that this raises a presumption — -which

262 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART I v
on nearer inspection becomes increasingly probable —
that the revelation of God in Christianity, and
in thc supernatural life, takes up and completes
the previous revelation of God in Nature, so that
there is not only unity, but also development and a
teleological connection, subsisting between the two
spheres. Now as regards the unity, we are told that " one
who believes in the God of Christianity is bound to
beheve that creation is his work from end to end, that
it is a rational work, and the work of a Being who is
wholly good." " The Christian recognising God at the
beginning ofthe series, regards nature and the super
natural as differing in degree, but not in kind." " The
unity of God's purpose throughout the physical and
the moral world." " It seems as if in the providence of
God the mission of science was to bring home to our
unmetaph)'sical ways of thinking the great worth of
the Divine immanence in creation, which is not less
essential to the Christian idea of God than to a philo
sophical view of nature."
As regards continuity of development and teleolo
gical connection, the following specimens may serve
to show what these writers are driving at. " The
physical and the moral" are to be " represented not
as two opposing spheres of which one dominates the
other, but as the less perfect and the more perfect
revelation of the moral nature of God, of which the
lower leads on to and prepares for the higher, with
out the tremendous gap which Kant created." . .
" An indwelling Spirit which sustains and animates
its (that is Nature's) ever)- part, and is revealed with
increasing clearness as we ascend in the scale of
creation." All this has an important bearing on the cloctrine
maintained by these thinkers as regards the nature of
miracles. " In the deistic age," we read, " the very
existence of God was staked on His power to interrupt
or override the laws of the universe  Slowly

CHAP. HI GOD AND NATURE 263
but surely that theory of the world has been under
mined. The one absolutely impossible conception of
God in the present day is that which represents him
as an occasional visitor  Darwinism appeared,
and under the disguise of a foe did the work of a friend.
It has conferred upon philosophy and religion an
inestimable benefit by showing us that we must choose
between two alternatives. Either God is everywhere
present in Nature or he is nowhere." " Miracles cannot
much longer be spoken of as ' interferences.' They
are revelations of a higher life, the prophecies as it
were of a new stage in the development of creation,
They have their analogue all down the scale of Being.
When the vegetable takes up and assimilates in
organic matter, we do not say that the organic inter
feres with the inorganic. Perhaps some day we shall
know that here, too, we have stereotyped a false
antithesis." By the above quotations, the most expressive and
the most representative which the author has been
able to select, it is hoped that the view of science and
religion which we are endeavouring to present may
have been sufficiently indicated in outline An exa
mination of this view commensurable with its import
ance is precluded by the limits of our space, but thc
following seem to be the chief refiections which it
most obviously suggests.
I. The concluding series of quotations given above
may serve to remind us of one great, though sub
ordinate, advantage possessed by this theory ; that,
namely, which arises from the fact that the view here
set forth is in the first instance a view of God and
Nature, and not in the first instance a view elaborated
in order to explain the possibility of miracles. The
doctrine with regard to these latter is a corollary from
the general principles laid down, and not, as usually
happens in similar cases, the sole or even the chief
subject of interest. This in itself marks a distinct
advance in method of treatment, not less on theo-

264 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART IV
logical than on scientific grounds. No ample survey
of the facts of science is possible so long as they are
regarded exclusively with reference to the question of
miracles, nor can any conclusions with respect to
these latter be free from the suspicion of bias and
prejudice, unless they are founded on a previous
investigation of nature in its whole extent, and for its
own sake alone.
2. Another advantage — partly derived from the
previous one — which ma)' fairly be claimed on behalf
of this view of the Universe, is that it does not employ
the terms " Nature " and " natural " in a sense different
from that in which these terms are understood by
men of science. This view is therefore not open to
the objection urged with such force by Mozley against
naturalising explanations of miracles, namel)' that
such explanations cannot effect a reconciliation with
science, because the possible laws (Bishop Butler's) or
the unknown laws (Babbage's) of Nature to which
they refer are not the laws of Nature known to
science According to the doctrine here in question,
on the other hand, there is throughout the whole
realm, alike of the natural and supernatural, the
physical and the moral (both of which are regarded as
distinctions merely of degree) only one law recog
nised, and that law holds good from first to last, " from
the conflict of atoms to the body of the saint." This
law is not a new acquaintance introduced in order to
account for a given set of phenomena (and therefore
equally, no matter whether it is natural or super
natural, a law unknown to science), but rather a law
which is declared to be one and the same law of
science indifferently with regard to all sets of pheno
mena. No doubt the possibilit)' of this inclusion of
the supernatural under the law of the natural may be,
and b)' man)' is, denied on other grounds. But in the
case before us, it could not be denied on the ground
that a different mode of action is attributed to God
in the two spheres respectively.

CHAP. Ill GOD AND NATURE 265
3. But undoubtedly the chief merit of this view is
its abhorrence ofthe old dualism and its assertion of
that unity which, as Mr. Moore tells us, " the age
demands at any price." Nor can it be complained,
even by unfavourable critics, that this assertion is
made in an extravagant fashion or in ignorance of its
besetting temptations. Thus : " There was a time,
long ago, when the unity of knowledge was as much
a commonplace as the unity of Nature is now, and
the birth of modern science marks the protest against
that view. Yet the schoolmen were not wrong in
their belief in the unity of knowledge ; they were only
wrong in allowing the truth of the unity to over
shadow and ultimately to destroy the differences which
exist in knowledge." "While unity is a true' and
necessary category under which to bring the manifold-
ness of nature, we are at every step in danger of
losing a truth in order that we may gain one. Dif
ference is as real as unity." " The problem before the
world is to bring together into a unity that which is
now separated into a dualism without destroying the
real distinction which exists between the separated
parts." In these and other like passages, there is very
full justice done to that differentiating process which
is as much a characteristic of modern science as is
its converse demonstration of the unbroken unity
and order of Nature.
Having thus enumerated the advantages attaching
to this view of God and Nature, it will now be our
duty to state briefly the points in which it seems to
fall short.
I. At the beginning of this chapter the opinion was
expressed that recent religious thought in England
had been m.uch more concerned with God in reference
to Nature than with God under any other aspect.
This, of course, is not a fault of the times, but is due
to one of those necessities for one-sided development
without which progress would be impossible. At the
same time, in respect of this whole view — as recently

266 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART iv
set forth — we desiderate some fuller exposition than
is forthcoming of the presuppositions with reference
to the Divine Nature which are involved in the state
ments made concerning His manifested activity. It
is not that the thinkers of this school were called
on to set themselves right with those grosser and
more anthropomorphic conceptions, according to which
the personality of God exercises itself in defying the
laws of Nature rather than in submitting to them as
its own laws. Such fundamental misapprehensions
may well be left to be dealt with by a different class
of teachers from that with which we are here con
cerned. But there is something more required in the
present case than that the nature of God should be
simply postulated in that form in which it is familiar
to every Christian reader, and then that a mode of
behaviour and activity should be ascribed to God
which, as made use of for apologetical purposes, is a
novelty, not only to the Christian reader but to the
general public. Something more should be done than
is done to bring together and to harmonise the con
ception which is taken for granted and the conception
which is elaborated for the first time.
Nor can these accomplished thinkers be ignorant of
the difficulties which are presented by this problem,
or of the fact that the belief in a personal God has
by many ere now been surrendered on account of its,
at all events seeming, incompatibility with the natural
process of development ; whilst, on the other hand,
this latter has often lost its interest in the eyes of a
different class of men, by reason of there seeming to be
nothing in it to justify the belief in a personal God.
No doubt it may be said that those are precisely the
two opposites which furnish the materials of the pro
posed synthesis, and that the suggested explanation
is therefore one which is likely to give satisfaction to
both parties. But to show in what form a reconcilia
tion might be effected, and how complete the recon
ciliation would then be, is not the same thing as

CHAP. Ill GOD AND NATURE ¦ 267
to have succeeded in effecting it. Before this latter
result can be arrived at, the conception of a personal
God will have to be worked at with much more
thoroughness, both in itself and in its relationships.
That this may be — perhaps is being — done must be the
devout prayer of every well-wisher for the future of
English religious thought, as it is certainly that of the
present writer.
2. A further criticism which here suggests itself
with regard to this point of view has reference to the
depreciatory, if not disrespectful, language which these
thinkers adopt in speaking of the Kantian Dualism.
That this dualism is an essential part of Kant's
Philosophy, admits of course of no doubt. A study,
however, of Professor Caird's last published book on
Kant seems to show that the philosopher's teaching
on this subject is very different from what it is popularly
supposed to be, and even from what it is supposed to
be by this school of thinkers. It is indeed not certain
that Kant's Dualism did not lead by positive affilia
tion, quite as much as by provoking a reaction, to the
subsequent attempts at synthesis.' Nor for these
thinkers of the Oxford School could there be any
better preparatory discipline to their engagement upon
the subject now under discussion than a study of
those parts of Kant's writings which more particularly
refer to it, and especially of the " Urtheilskraft."
3. Finally, if it is not unbecoming in the present writer
to say so, this apologetical application of Hegelianism is
too apt to mistake a poetical and artistic handling of
the forms and processes of development (often, how
ever, degenerating into mere verbiage) for scientific
proof This was one cause ofthe decline of Hegelianism
in Germany even before the rise of Materialism. And
if the hope expressed by Mr. Matheson " that England
may give back to Germany that speculative vigour
which she derived from German soil," is ever to be
' Cf. Caird, The Critical Philosophy of Kant, vol. i., p. 269,
note, vol. ii., pp. 641, 642.

268 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART IV
realised, it will certainly not be by a display of that
very weakness through which Philosophy in Germany
first became discredited. Instead of this, let us hope
that the preoccupation of contemporary religious
thought with the teleological aspects of Physical
Science may lead to some real contributions being
made to the theology of the Church of England. It
is a wide and ever widening field of observation,
which is thus opened up. We cannot expect that the
study of it will be so immediately productive of
results as it would be if we were looking merely for
arguments from design in the spirit of the Bridgwater
Treatises. We have, however, the advantage of
knowing that such results as we are able to arrive at
have been " brought us " by Science, instead of being
merely our own interpretations of Science. It is es
pecially by their profiting from this advantage that
the theologians whose work we have been endeavouring
to estimate have deserved -well, alike of Science and
of the Church of England.
Thus far we have been criticising the work done in
recent times by English theologians with a view to
throwing light on problems connected with the con
sideration of God and Nature. Such speculations are
valuable, from the theologian's point of view, not so
much in themselves as for the possibility which they
facilitate of conceiving of the God of Nature in
reference to the subsequent grades of the Catholic
synthesis. For the business of the theologian is with
this synthesis far rather than with philosophical ideas
of God considered independently. Now, the questions
hitherto discussed in this chapter are such as, in the
present state of opinion, necessarily give rise to con
troversy. Hence, though each suggested explanation
of thc nature of the divine activity involves a positive
conception of God as its counterpart, this latter is very
liable to be lost sight of in the cloud of argument by
which it is overlaid. We a,re therefore led to inquire

CHAP. HI GOD AND NATURE 269
whether there is no help to be derived from looking
in any other direction for a prceparatio evangelica in
the shape of teaching about God antecedent to the
teaching of the Christian Revelation. Or rather, as it
is with recent theology that we are here concerned,
the question arises, what has been done by our latter-
day theologians, otherwise than by attempts to
reconcile religion and science, to show that God, as
conceived of apart from Christianity and on an
independent basis, harmonises, or at all events is not
inconsistent, with the Christian idea of God .¦"
The class of investigations brought under our
notice by the statement of this question is that which is
concerned with the science of Man as distinct from the
science of Nature. As, however, it is in exclusive con
nection with the presentation of the idea of God that
these anthropological studies are here to be referred to,
the question comes to be as to the relationship of non-
Christian ideas of God to the God of the Christian
religion. Let us then now proceed to consider what
(if any) contributions have recently been made by
theologians of the Church of England to the deter
mination of this question.
The light thrown on Christianity by non-Christian
religions is a subject which of late years has excited
an immense amount of interest both within and
outside of the Church of England. This subject is
sometimes discussed in a spirit of hostility to orthodox
beliefs, sometimes with a view to liberalising these
latter, sometimes, on the other hand, in order to
exhibit the superiority of Christianity. This last
attempt again takes different forms, some more, some
less, appreciative ofthe religions which are regarded as
having failed. The course of religious thought in the
Church of England has shown a very similar tendency
with reference to this question to that which we have
indicated above as having been followed with reference
to Physical Science. There was, however, never any
thing like the same danger apprehended from this

270 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART IV
quarter by even the most timid Churchmen, nor had
theologians anything like the same difficulty in
coming to terms with the problems thus presented to
them. On these last grounds, it is not worth while now to
go back to a time — which everyone who has passed his
fortieth year must remember, if only as a survival —
when the mere attempt to institute comparisons
between Christianity and. the other religions of the
world was looked upon with suspicion. It is more to
the purpose to distinguish the subsequent tendencies
of religious thought in the Church of England with
regard to non-Christian ideas of God.
Now, the important point of distinction is not so
much the more or less S)'mpathetic attitude adopted by
theologians in different cases, as rather the recognition,
or non-recognition, of an organic relationship between
the Christian idea and other antecedent ideas of God.
Not much value attaches to attempts to compare
religions with each other, merely in the way of like
ness or difference. We are all familiar with such com
parisons. We know how the religions unfavourably
contrasted with the " one " religion, are yet, up to a
certain point and subject to the limitations under
which they are shown to labour, eulogised and extolled.
Nor are we less accustomed to those other criticisms,
the intention of which is to minimise the unique ex
cellence of the " one " religion by exhibiting its deriva
tive character from its supposed inferiors. Both classes
of criticism, in the course of their respective demon
strations, suggest points of interest, and are besides
useful as helping to popularise the results of learned re
search. But neither of them is criticism of a high kind,
nor is either of them criticism such as we have a right
nowadays to expect. No treatment of the subject
can possess this latter character if its only aim is to
determine the question of superiority as between the
religions compared. It is not merely that an inquiry
undertaken in this spirit cannot be really impartial,

CHAP. Ill GOD AND NATURE 271
but it is impossible to see any subject in its all-round
connections, if the point of view from which it is
regarded is thus limited.
On the other hand, investigations pursued in this
direction are not any more religious than they are
scientific. Religions cannot be arranged relatively to
each other on principles of competition without its
being implied by this very fact that there is something
which they share in common and in respect of the
possession of which, to a greater or to a less extent,
their relative positions are assigned to them. Now,
this likeness between religions cannot be less im
portant than the differences between them. It would
indeed be truer to speak of there being only one
religion developed under different forms, than it
would be to speak of there being many different forms
of religion one of which was " the one " religion as
compared with all the rest.
But in order for the different religions of the world
thus to " come by their rights " and to be recognised
as the sharers in a common inheritance, they must be
shown to be the manifestations of a single principle,
the outcome of a unity. The Church of England,
however, though for many years past its attitude on
this question has been in the main a liberal one, does
not seem to any great extent to have advanced in this
direction. The obligations of Christianity to other
religions on account of its adoption from them of
usages, forms, ceremonies, modes of dress and service,
as likewise of such conceptions as those of sacrifice,
inspiration, and judgment, have no doubt been freely
recognised. But to arrive at a deeper principle
underlying the whole connection between the religions
of the world, Christianity included, does not seem to
be a task which has been often entered on, at all
events not by theologians of the Church of England.
Yet in recent years a somewhat different note has
been sounded, and a more philosophical position has
been taken up, by some of the foremost thinkers in our

272 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part IV
Church with reference to this question. As the ten
dency is one which is by no means identified with any
one school of thinkers but emanates from the most
different and even (as some would think) opposite
quarters, it will be best to quote examples taken from
the works of writers whose ways of thinking in other
respects have not much in common. Dr. Abbott
{Through Nature to Christ, pp. 94, 95) writes as
follows. " What other people call evolution or the
spirit of progress, or chance, or nothing, or the un
knowable, that I call the Word of God. This Word of
God I discern in the old days of Rome and Greece,
and the still older days of Israel and of Egypt, and
going back still further, I discern it in the very dawn
of human thought, leading men towards love and
trust and awe, or, in other words, shaping the souls of
men for worship with the same spiritual tools which
were employed with supreme effect by Jesus of
Nazareth. . . . But this we shall not be able to
realise, unless we first realise the manner in which, for
ages before the coming of Christ, the Word of
God, acting through human and non-human nature,
led men by illusions towards love and trust and awe,
ancl so prepared the way for the Incarnate \\'ord."
In a very similar sense the Rev. J. R. lllingworth
thus expresses himself (Keble College Sermons,
p. 319. Sermon on " Life") " It is for this reason
that Christian philosophy can see more than poetic
fiction in the early creeds that peopled the world with
personalities and powers, full of mysterious sympathy
and kinship with the jo)'s and sorrows of the sons of
men — more than a logical abstraction in that yearning
wistful Pantheism to which men clung amid the
miserable dying days of Greece and Rome." And
again {Expositor, III. series, vol. iii., p. 165). "All the
forms of nature worship which we find among savage
races, much more the refined Pantheism of later days,
point to a truth which professing Christians are often
apt to underrate."

CHAP. Ill GOD AND NATURE 273
Many other passages from different writers of differ
ent schools might be quoted to the same effect. As
perhaps in the cases quoted, so also in other cases,
the writers who thus express themselves may not
have in view precisely the same thing in what they
are attempting to convey. Neither the differences of
their Christology, however, nor any of their other
differences, need concern us here For all that we
here maintain is, that there must be some essential
unity between Christianity and its precursors, if the
latter are to be regarded as having this character in
any real sense at all. Yet in saying that this is all
that we maintain, we do not wish that it should seem
to be implied that this all is not much. For be it
observed that our meaning is, not merely that the
antecedent religions were of the nature of an
education ox preparation forthe subsequent Christianity,
but rather that they contained implicitly what Chris
tianity afterwards revealed to be not only its own
nature, but also theirs.
We regard, then, this tendency of religious thought
as having the true " note " of Catholicity, as one
link amongst many others between Christian theo
logy at this its first stage and Christian theology in
its subsequent stages, as in short, a most hopeful sign
of the times and one from which more is sure to
follow. It should be stated before we conclude this chapter,
that the idea of God as conceived in the Old Testament
would require to be considered in this connection, if it
were not that the literature of the Old Testament
rather than its theology had been the main preoccupa
tion of Old Testament students in recent times. The
distinguished literary and linguistic services, however,
which have been rendered in this department, en
courage the hope that the theology of the Old
Testament may be not less ably and successfully
dealt with in the next generation, if not in the
immediate future.

CHAPTER IV
DOGMATIC THEOLOGY
If we look only to its quantity, the chief part of
the dogmatic theology of the Church of England in
recent years has been concerned with the attacks
made on the orthodox position by anti-dogmatic
opponents. These attacks were in substance an
attempt to invalidate the authorit)' of the Church's
creed, which latter was represented not only as un
tenable in itself, but as of non-Biblical origin, and as
due to the speculative and ecclesiastical tendencies of
post-apostolic times. Now, no one can be, even super
ficially, acquainted with recent apologetic literature,
without being aware of the many and often ably-
conducted arguments which have been brought
forward on the Church side, in support both of the
intrinsic reasonableness and credibility of the articles
impugned, as likewise of their primitive origin.
Nevertheless, we trust we shall be doing no injustice
to these apologetic demonstrations, if we do not re
gard them as forming the most characteristic and
significant portion of the subject with which it is
proposed to deal in this chapter. The fact is, that
they were not for the most part of a kind to do
justice to thc Church's cause, still less to carry weight
with the Church's opponents. And this seems to have
been felt b)' Churchmen themselves, or at all events

CHAP. IV DOGMATIC THEOLOGY 275
by those of them who were most keenly alive to the
signs of the times. Such Churchmen could not help
seeing that the old apologetic arguments were not
sufficient, and equally it appeared to them that what
was wanted was, not defensive arguments at all, but a
statement of the dogmatic position in a form calcu
lated to appeal to the intelligence of the nineteenth
century. Nor was it only or chiefly as regards the sufficiency
of their oivn arguments that the higher minds in the
Church were disposed to entertain doubts. They
desiderated an education of Church people generally
in doctrinal matters, previous to themselves undertak
ing, in reference to these same matters, the work of
defending the Church before the world. It was, in
fact, not that they flinched from their enemies, but
that it seemed to them that their best chance of com
bating these latter successfully was by bringing their
own followers more into line. Thus, though their
ultimate object was resistance to the above-mentioned
attacks brought to bear upon them, their immediate
object was doctrinal readjustment from within, as
that without which the former result was clearly seen
by them to be impossible.
In truth, there was at this time a very general feel
ing of dissatisfaction entertained by the leaders of
different schools of thought in the Church, not only
on account of the inadequacy of popular orthodoxy
to cope with the difficulties presented to it, but also
on account of the claim of popular orthodoxy to con
trol thc higher theology of the Church of England.
Popular orthodoxy had gathered strength at the
expense of intellectual orthodoxy in consequence of
the Romanist secessions from the Church, and the
opportunity which was thus furnished, and which was
not likely to be neglected, of representing all religious
thought, as distinct from mere vague sentiment, in
the light of a delusion and a snare. Educated Churcl -
men were thus placed in a position of reaction, not
T 2

276 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part iv
only as against the opinions of those whom they re
garded as their enemies, but also as against the
opinions of their own less educated friends. This
curious complication has continued in existence ever
since, ancl the editor of Lux Mmtdi in his preface
speaks of popular orthodoxy in terms of depreciation
almost equal to those in which he speaks of pro
fessed unbelief The same feeling had, of course,
been expressed even more strongly by the originators
of the Oxford Movement. But the significance of
this tendency, in the form which it has assumed since
the middle of the century, lies in the fact that it has
been exhibited not only by the leaders of one school
or party, but more or less by the leaders of all schools
and all parties in the Church of England. The
interests of religious thought were at stake, and the
desire to defend these interests has often served as a
uniting bond between Churchmen of otherwise widely
divergent views.
Now, the effects of this influence were both more
felt and more apparent in that branch of theology
which we have now under consideration than in any
other. The subjects which we have hitherto dis
cussed are either non-popular (Biblical criticism i.e.),
or else only popular by reason of the alarm which
their treatment is held to justify (Religion and
Science, etc.). On the other hand, English public
opinion has never, since the Reformation period,
ceased to exercise its right to assert itself in reference
to matters of dogmatic belief The questions which
these matters suggest are such as are enlarged upon
in sermons, ventilated in cheap books and yet cheaper
magazines, made piquant by current religious contro
versies. All this is, of course, in a high degree healthy
and stimulating to the popular taste, besides that it
tends to humanise theologians. At the same time, it
has its seam)' side, and it was this latter which during
the period here referred to became so conspicuous
as to raise the apprehensions even of theologians

CHAP. IV DOGMATIC THEOLOGY 277
popularly gifted. Hence, all the best dogmatic
theology of recent times has had a double edge to
it, the one of which has been turned against the
foes of orthodoxy, the other against those of its
friends whose " zeal is not according to knowledge."
Yet the best dogmatic theology has in our times
borne much more the stamp of the reformer's im
press than that of the apologist pure and simple,
or rather, as has been already stated, it has been
intent on setting its own house in order as a first
step towards safe-guarding itself against foreign
invasion. Consequently we shall be concerned in
this chapter with dogmatic theology chiefly as thus
determined. The creative impulse which the study of this subject
received under the influences referred to was due in the
first instance to the theological writings of F. D.
Maurice. That double-sided aim of which we have
spoken appears perhaps more clearly in the Maurician
theology than in any other of recent times. And indeed
this is one of many circumstances which makes the
right understanding of Maurice so difficult. We always
have to ask ourselves — what foe is he combating .¦"
What error, emanating from what quarter, is he endeav
ouring to correct .'' Again, the character of Maurice's
theology typically illustrates the nature of the environ
ment in which recent dogmatic thought first took
shape. It was a time of national expansion on all
sides ; social questions were every day coming more
and more to the front ; great possibilities of intel
lectual development were being opened up which,
however, were threatened with extinction by a
mechanical philosophy and an irreligious materialism.
Under these circumstances, the leaders of thought in
the Church were inevitably called on to estimate the
strength of the forces which the traditional theology
had placed at their command. The mere suggestion
of this question was enough to convince such men that
popular orthodoxy was a broken reed to lean upon in

278 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part IV
its then state. And it was so especially as it seemed
to them in the following respects : —
(i) The current theology, to use Maurice's phrase,
" takes account only of man's depravity." A one
sided insistence on this latter fact had tended to put
out of sight all the disciplinary, ameliorative, and
constructive influences of the Faith of Christ when
realised and understood in its breadth and fulness.
The consequence of this was that Christianityappeared,
if not as a foe, at all events as indifferent, to the new
forces of life and thought produced by the growth of
modern civilisation.
(2) The current theology, to use another of
Maurice's phrases, is " a theology which begins from
man instead of from God." Under this description
Maurice intended to refer to a tendency, which he had
observed not only in the theology of his time, but which
he knew to be of much more general prevalence, and
against which his anti-Benthamite crusade was chiefly
directed. Here, however, we have to do with the then
state of opinion only under its theological aspect. But
even as thus limited, this tendency takes more than
one form. It includes both Rationalism in matters of
religion — the attempt to bring down God to man, and
to measure God's capacities by man's understanding
of them — and it includes also what may be called
Religious Sentimentalism — 2.i?., the attempt to measure
God by man's feelings, states of experience, spiritual
susceptibilities etc.
The nature of the reconstruction which Maurice
propounded with a view to giving a new direction to
theology is well known. In opposition to the partial
and one-sided tendencies against which he protested,
it was maintained by Maurice — (i) that the conception
of sin is correlative to the conception of the Kingdom
of God or of Christ. Sin is not a thing by itself, but
is due to a sense of loneliness or isolation from the
.Divine Fellowship. Thus at the same time that
exclusixc concentration on human depravity is avoided.

CHAP. IV DOGMATIC THEOLOGY 279
the heinousness of sin is not weakened. On the other
hand, by bringing into prominence the conception of
the Kingdom of God, ancl by representing Churches,
States, and the various other bonds of union into
which men enter, as a means to the realisation of this
kingdom, Maurice effected a reconciliation between
Christianity and its environment without detracting
from, but by rather heightening, the spiritual character
ofthe former. (2) that the Divine is the ground of the
Pluman, and consequently that our theolog)' must not
begin from man, but reversely from the side of God
and of Christ as the head of the human race. " For
the sake of that general humanity — because I believe
it is in danger of being utterly trampled on, or of
becoming a trumpery name which has no reality
answering to it — I would keep those treasures which
have been entrusted to us." (Sermons, vol. ii., p. 48).
The great interest of Maurice's theology consisted in
the fact that it presented a constructive view of dogma
which claimed neither to neglect, nor to run counter
to, the tendencies of modern thought. And as we
shall see, at a later time other similarly more
human views of dogma made their appearance. We
call attention to Maurice's theology here, however,
merely in that respect observed upon above — viz., in
so far as it aimed at being a corrective of popular
orthodoxy, more especially as regards the particulars
instanced in the preceding paragraphs. There was,
and for long had been, great need felt for a more
living theology, and this need had frequently found
expression, as, e.g.,\n a letter of Clough's in which he
says that "the thing which men must work at will not
be critical questions about the scriptures, but philo
sophical problems of grace and free-will, and of
redemption as an idea, not as a historical event." (Re
mains, vol. i., p. 3). In the succeeding time, the theo
logian who most nearly responded to this demand was
J. B. Mozley. Mozley conceived of dogma so far after
Maurice's ideal, as that it meant for him, not something

28o THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART iv
to be watered down and accommodated to human rea
son, but rather something to whichhuman reason should
rise, and so be invigorated.^ Thus, Mozley does not
attempt to explain such doctrines as predestination,
original sin, or the atonement. This, however, being
granted, his aim is, either to take us to the field of life
for illustrations of a similar principle to that which he
finds in the dogma {e.g., in reference to the atone
ment, the principle is " the great principle of mediation
in nature "), or else to show us how that which a
dogma asserts is assumed by men without their know
ing it — (as, e.g., in the case of original sin. The dogma
in this case, he tells us, is really the basis of the
criticisms of human nature which appear in modern
literature of the cynical and pessimist types, and
especially in modern poetry). But though Mozley
makes interesting points of this kind, there is no
presentation in his writings of dogma in reference to
life as a whole. Nor is there any readjustment ofthe
dogmatic point of view similar to that of F. D.
Maurice. Speaking generally, we may say that the doctrinal
development of the Church at about this time was in
three directions.
(i) The merely external view of dogma was the
one most in favour. This was natural at a time of in
creased and increasing ecclesiasticism. The question
was not what dogma means in reference to life, but as
to whether you will believe it or else have the hands
sawn off by which )'0u are clinging to the boat and so
fall back into the sea. It was an age of dilemmas
bet^'cen propositions, which must be believed in the
Church's sense or which otherwise cannot be believed
in any sense. This form of argument in order to be
successful would have required the exercise of much
more authority than the Church of England can
' See his sermon on " The influence of dogmatic teaching on
education," included with the University Set mons, though
preached at Lancing College.

CHAP. IV DOGMATIC THEOLOGY 281
pretend to possess. Its only effect in the present case
was to make many good men despair of any progress
being achieved by the Church in the future.
(2) On the other hand — possibly as a reaction
against this last tendency — a great increase in the
number of persons holding independent views and,
though in communion with, and often ministering in,
the Church of England, acting as theological free
lances in regard to dogma. This work, as has been
already explained, has to do only with tendencies
characteristic of the .Church of England as a whole.
Consequently individual deviations from orthodoxy of
the kind referred to cannot be noticed except in
passing. It may be mentioned, however, as signifi
cant, that these new departures were strictly confined
to the personal following of those who entered on
them. Gifted preachers and teachers exercised a con
siderable influence over their disciples, but their views
did not become more widely diffused. Church feeling
was gaining ground and an ecclesiastical, far rather
than an individualistic, theology was its outcome.
(3) An obliteration of the distinctive lines which
mark off dogmatic theology from Biblical interpre
tation, on the one hand, and from the ipse sensi of
subjective religion on the other. A branch of
theology always shows its weakness by tending to
lose its individuality. The sphere of dogmatics is
not to be confounded with that which we had in view,
when we treated above of the second stage of theo
logical progression under the title of " Theology and
the Bible" The two spheres are different, however
closely related. " Holding to the Bible," says Mar-
tensen, " the relation of disciple does not forbid, but
rather requires, that the contents of Biblical doctrine
should be reproduced as the truths of one's own con
sciousness." 1 Yet the theology of our time constantly
ignores this precept. To speak of proving a dogma
out of the Bible is nonsense. There are no dogmas
1 Clark's translation of Martensen, by Urwick, p. 52.

282 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART iv
in the Bible, but there is that in the Bible with regard
to which dogmas are formulated. The formula, how
ever, is the distinctive part of every dogma, and this
formula is essentially extra-Biblical. Not less fre
quent, and not less objectionable, is the habit of
treating dogmatic theology as falling within the
sphere of subjective religion. When it is said " Hoc
est Christum cognoscere, beneficia ejus cognoscere," '
the statement thus made is, no doubt, strictly true,
and we trust that we are not insensible to its import
ance. But such statements are often applied by
popular preachers and teachers in an entirely mis
leading sense, and it would be easy, though by no
means edifying, to quote passages from sermons and
books of devotion, in which the interests of theology
are prejudiced by this confusion between dogmatic
belief and subjective faith.
Though, however, the Church of England was
developing in these one-sided directions with regard
to its conception and application of dogma, we must
not suppose that the recent history of dogmatic
theology — more especially its quite recent histoiy —
does not show signs of a progressive improvement.
That welding together of the different sections of the
Church, spoken of in the earlier part of this volume,
was no doubt chiefly responsible for the change which
took place. This change showed itself, sometimes in
a delicate perception of relationships between doc
trines previously unconnected or opposed, as, e.g., in
Westcott's : " The currents of theological speculation
have led us to consider the sufferings of Christ in
relation to God as a propitiation for sin, rather than
in relation to man as a discipline, a consummation of
humanity. The two lines of reflection may be indeed,
as I believe they are, more closely connected than we
have at present been brought to acknowledge,"^ some
times in a \'icw' of doctrinal misconceptions as serving
^ Melancthon, as quoted by Martensen.
- Christus Consummator, p. 24.

CHAP. IV DOGMATIC THEOLOGY 283
to adumbrate imaginatively a higher truth, as in
Mason's : " What are called forensic doctrines " {i.e., in
regard to the atonement) "have seemed to satisfy
many hearts, but only so far as they were right
metaphors, parables hinting at a fuller truth which was
consciously or unconsciously felt to lie behind them," '
sometimes in warnings against " the popular travesties
of Christian theology to which the insulation of a few
doctrines, for homiletic purposes, and the dispropor
tionate insistence on them, has gradually given rise." -
Yet, after all, no great importance would attach to
these mere probings after a more Catholic realisation
of Christian truth, if there were no traces of a more
positive view in the Church of England tending in
the same direction. The above quotations are indeed
samples of a great many similar expressions which
frequently occur in the writings of the best contem
porary theologians. Such expressions do not meet
with the recognition they deserve on the part of those
who have hitherto been accustomed — often not with
out reason — to regard all dogmatic theology as the
outcome of merely reactionary influences, and these
expressions are here referred to for that reason, as well
as because they indicate the drift of current theological
tendencies. But can we go further and say that there
is anything like a constructive adaptation of dogma to
the facts of life to be seen emerging from the theology
of the Church of England at the present time .'
It seems to the present writer that, though no such
view has been embodied in any adequate form, there
is no lack of attempts in this direction, and that these
attempts, in spite of their being mostly conveyed
through the unsatisfactory vehicle of sermons, essays,
and lectures, are highly significant. Let us then
endeavour, as the result of our lucubrations, to state
in what, as it seems to us, this more positive view of
dogma consists.
1 Faith of the Gospel, p. 172.
^lllingworth, vol. iii. of the E.xpositor, third series, p. 161.

284 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part iv
The dogmatic conception of Christ which appears
to be most characteristic of recent religious thought
in the Church of England is, if we mistake not, ex
pressed in the following terms by Bishop Westcott, in
his work already referred to, Christus Consummator :
" I believe that if we are to do our work we must
learn to think, not only of the redemption of man,
but also of the accomplishment of the Divine purpose
for all that God made. We must learn to think of
that sunn/ling up of all things in Christ, in the phrase
of St. Paul, which crowns the last aspirations of phy
sicist and historian with a final benediction. We
must dare, in other words, to look beyond Christ the
Consoler to Christ the Fulfillcr. Christus Consolator —
let us thank God for the revelation which leaves no
trial of man unnoticed and unsoothed — leads us to
Christus Consummator." '
" The accomplishment of the Divine purpose for
all that God made." That is, in Christ everything
realises its true mission, and attains to its true per
fection. This extended conception of Christ has
taken the place, in the minds of Churchmen, of that
other one touched upon by Westcott, and which was
the dominant one in the last generation. We do not,
of course, mean that the older conception is abrogated
by being thus extended. On the contrary, it is part
of Westcott's purpose to show that the wider view
includes the narrower, and that, far from there being
any opposition between them, the one finds its com
pletion in the other. At the same time, it is the
wider view which is just now the one which is the
more characteristic of our times, or, as Westcott
expresses it, " the particular aspect of the Gospel
which is offered by the Spirit of God to us now for
our acknowledgment."
Now, the Christ as thus conceived, " accomplishes
the Divine inirpose for all that God made," in virtue
of His Incarnation. Westcott's statement is in fact,
' Christus Consummator, pp. 1 1 ancl i z .

chap. IV DOGMATIC THEOLOGY 285
only another way of saying that the conception of
the Incarnation includes all other conceptions of
Christ in relation to man. And this explanation is
not only Westcott's, but is also that of most other
theologians of the Church of England at the present
time. The writings of these latter, in fact, are usually
neither more nor less than an attempt to show how
this is so, how reasonable, i.e., the subordination must
appear, whether considered, e.g., in relation to the
historical fact of Christ's resurrection, or to the
dogmatic truth of His atonement.
But the aspect of the Incarnation which is now
predominant in the Church requires to be looked at
on another side in order to be understood. This
new element (which is, however, only an addition to
Westcott's statement in the sense that it draws out
more fully what Westcott implies) consists in an
accentuation of that mode of regarding the Incarna
tion which has been thus admirably interpreted by
Hegel. " The Christ says, run not hither and thither.
The kingdom of God is within you. Many others
were honoured as Divine messengers or as divinities.
For instance, statues were erected among the Greeks
to Demetrius Poliorcites as to a god, and the Roman
Emperors were honoured as gods. So there have
been incarnations received, as Buddha, Hercules. But
the history of Christ is history for the communit)',
and has the witness of the Spirit in the life of faith.
Thus it is maintained in a spiritual way, and not by
external power." ' This view appears again in the
following reference of an American writer ^ to the same
subject. " St. John says, ' The Word was made flesh
and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth.' It was
ethical and organic, and it was not ethical in a formal
way, but in the realisation of personality ; and it was

'Hegel, Philosophie der Religion, vol. ii., p. 321. Quoted by
Mulford. ^ Mulford's Republic of God, p. 126. The italics are our own.

286 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part I v
not simply in an individual way, but in the life that
was given for man, and became the life of humanity!'
Perhaps it is in the concluding words of this last
passage that the point which it is desired here to
emphasise is most simply expressed. " The life that
became the life of humanity." This is something like
Maurice's view as above set forth, only that the idea
of immanence is more dwelt upon. For that reason,
the two passages quoted in the last paragraph appear
to be more correctly applicable to the later theo
logical school with which we are now concerned. For
the distinctive attribute of this school is, that it re
gards the Incarnation as having become so centred
in human relationships and social institutions as for
these to be no longer independent, but if we may so
speak, "bone of its bones and flesh of its flesh."
The immanence in this case with respect to human
nature is like that treated of in the last chapter with
respect to non-human nature, and is, indeed, but a
further development of the same essential unity. In
the case of human nature, however, the idea of recipro-
cityis adistinguishing characteristic, which, even allow
ing for the possibility of reciprocity to a certain extent
in regard to non-human nature also, is none the less
sui generis. But in the case before us, this immanence of
the divine and human is conceived of, more especially
with reference to man under a social aspect, " the life
that was given for man, and became the life of human
ity." Of course, many ofthe theologians who take this
view, inasmuch as they are High Churchmen, dis
course on this immanence, chiefly, if not altogether,
in connection with that part of man's social nature
which falls within the domain of the visible Church.
But this whole point of view is not confined to theo
logians of this class, nor do even High Church
theologians make use of the idea of the Incarnation
exclusively for ecclesiastical purposes. The point of
novclt)', alike as regards all classes of theologians, is
that the forms under \\-hich thc Divine nature is con-

CHAP. IV DOGMATIC THEOLOGY 287
ceived of as realising itself in the human, are repre
sented as being a part of it, as its very substance,
as itself.
It will now be desirable to give some illustrations
of the extent to which this fundamental idea of con
temporary dogmatic theology affects the determina
tion of specific doctrines.
(i) With regard to the connection between the
Christ of Dogma, and the Christ of Histoiy, the ten
dency of recent theology has been increasingly to
dwell on the historical fact of the Resurrection as
proving the truth of the doctrine of the Incarnation.
But the chief feature of this insistence has not been
the demonstration of Christ's Divinity as proved by
the reality of His Resurrection, but rather the de
monstration of His life-giving power as thus shown to
have been made the everlasting possession of the
human race. " It is not, and never was, the empty
grave upon which the faith of the Apostles and the
life of the Church was founded. It was the existence
of the Saviour in Glory, and more than that, his actual
energy and life-giving power through his Spirit,
which gave the Church its foundation." ' And we
shall find that this idea of the Resurrection is that
which is entertained by the chief exponents of the
theology, and which is proclaimed from the pulpit b)'
the leading preachers, of the Church of England at
the present time.
(2) The Trinity. " I should wish to lay great
stress on the fact that the existence of the Trinity in
God becomes a truth of human experience, if the
claim of our Lord to oneness with God is admitted,"
i.e., if the man Christ is the Incarnate Son of God,
then Faith in the Trinity is made easy.-
(3) The Atonement. " When He to whom every
thing pointed as the obvious mediator between God
and man began and carried through to the end His
' Wace, The Gospel and its Witnesses.
^ Rev. C. Gore, Bampton Lectures, p. 264, note in appendix.

288 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART IV
historic work, his mode of operation was only this — to
be Himself very God and very Man." '
(4) fustification. It has been said that the differ
ence (in respect of justification i.e!) between Protest
antism and Romanism consists in the fact that while
the former represents man as being made free from
sin and so justified, the latter represents man as being
made positively righteous by the possession oi a fides
formata. The Church of England has hovered
between these two views, and cannot be said to be
committed to either of them. Yet the most charac
teristic utterances of theologians of late years are in
the spirit of Oxenham's, " to justify is to make, not
simply to account, men just." Now, such a concep
tion of justification must necessarily be viewed in the
light ofthe Incarnation rather than in the light ofthe
Atonement. The Incarnation, however, as thus considered, has
not most frequently been applied as a dogma to
dogmas, but rather as a dogma to life. Its chief
use has been to furnish a doctrinal basis for the ex
planation of the spiritual principles underlying the
relations into which men enter with each other,
whether in the Church or in the world. It has
also been the doctrine most relied on as a support
to the Christian view of the material universe.^
It has been said that the aspect of this doctrine
now most in favour was suggested by the previous
state of theology rather than by more extrinsic con
siderations. This, we saw, was avowedly recognised
by Westcott's statement of the theological question
which he considered as now most demanding atten
tion, in comparison with the theological question
which, however important, he regarded as being for
our own generation, of secondary interest. And the
strictly theological origin of the more recent view of
' Mason, The Faith ofthe Gospel, p. 173.
-' Cf the exposition on this subject in Chapter III.

CHAP. IV DOGMATIC THEOLOGY 2S9
Christ's person and work admits of illustration in
many other ways..
Now this fact has resulted in much greater care
being bestowed on the theological elaboration of this
conception than on its presentation in such a form as
to meet the objections of opponents. So far as the
current doctrine of the Incarnation has been treated
on this latter side, not much progress has been made,
except in the way of vindicating the perfect honesty
and sincerity of the theologians concerned. Attempts
to define the limits within which Christ's Divinity
was historically revealed are essentially rationalistic,
understanding that word in its philosophical sense.
Such attempts may, no doubt, be entered on without
contradiction by a theologian like Ritschl, approaching
the subject, as he did, from what is called a Neo-
Kantian point of view. In that case, there is a pre
vious theory, not only of the world and of man's
place in it, but also of the place of Divinity in relation
to this world and to man as a part of it. The only
question which then has to be asked is : " Did the
historic Christ fulfil the. conditions which would
require to be fulfilled in order to entitle him to be
called Divine } " Thus, with Ritschl, the primary
requisition of Incarnate Divinity is moral victory over
the world, and this victory Ritschl has no difficulty in
showing that Christ achieved.' But Ritschl is only
able to arrive at this position by the ascertainment of
correspondences within limits which he has himself pre
scribed, and his judgment therefore on Christ's Divinity
is, at the end of his demonstration, only what the
Germans call a "value judgment" {werth-urtheil).
The theory is perfectly consistent with itself, what
ever may be thought of it on other grounds, as to
which latter the present writer is most anxious that it
should not be prejudiced by this extremely cursory
explanation of its meaning. But the same consist
ency is not apparent in the conduct of those who
while dwelling on the essential nature of Christ and
' Lekre der Vers'ohnung, &c. vol. iii. p. 394 sqq. U

290 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART iv
on the fact that He is " Very God of Very God," yet
endeavour to explain in detail the ¦ powers belonging
to the Divine and to the Human Nature respectively.
Further remarks on this question are, however, for
bidden by the limits of the present investigation,
which is necessarily confined to the recent history of
" Dogmatics " under its most general aspect. We
propose rather to recur to what was said above as
regards one of the sources of the weakness affecting
recent dogmatic theology in the Church of England ;
viz. its unstable equilibrium, as due, on the one hand,
to its becoming merged in the study of the Bible pure
and simple, and as due, on the other hand, to its being
mixed up with considerations which affect the act of
faith rather than its dogmatic form.
We have said that this is a source of weakness to
dogmatic theology. It remains now to exhibit this
unstable equilibrium under another aspect, and
to consider what (if any) use has been made of it, as
a source of strength, by the Church of England.
Dogma is a necessary " moment " in the theological
process, but it exceeds its proper functions so soon as
it claims to be more than this. The assertion of its
independence, still more of its supremacy, is fatal to
the cause of (Christian truth. Nor should we hear so
much of the objections to the acceptance of dogma in
any and every sense, but for the not less frequent use
of dogma in this its wrong sense. In saying this
we have in view both the wrong sense in which
dogma is often understood in relation to Scripture,
and also the wrong sense in which dogma is often
understood in relation to the subjective experiences
which are involved in the act of faith.
When we represented one weakness of recent dog
matic theology as arising from its identification with
the mere statement of Biblical data, and another
weakness as arising from its identification with state
ments of the act of faith, what we had in view was
really, not the too great entanglement of dogma with
considerations lying outside its own sphere, but rather

CHAP. IV DOGMATIC THEOLOGY 291
the neglect of dogma altogether. Consequently, there
is no inconsistency between our complaint then that
dogmatic theologians have concerned themselves too
much with what is not dogma, and our complaint
HOZV that dogmatic theologians do not concern them
selves enough either with the Bible or with the act
of faith. We desire to see the province of dogma
rightly determined in respect of these its two chief
relationships. Dogmatic Theology will never be in
a healthy condition until this result has been accom
plished, by which what is meant is that both the de
pendence and the independence of dogma must be
rightly understood.
. Such a right understanding can hardly be
said at present so much as to exist. Take (A)
Dogma and the Bible. The popular teaching of
the Bible, which in itself has of late years vastly
improved, is certainly not often applied in such a way
as to vitalise the popular teaching of dogma. The
two spheres are indeed kept very much apart, the
same preacher being often as successful in his treat
ment of the first as he is utterly ineffective in that of
the last. On the other hand, if we consider that
class of teaching which, without being popular, is yet
not far above the popular level, we should find pro
bably that instead of the Bible leavening dogma, it
more often happens that dogma is employed to take
all life and colour out of the Bible, as e.g. in the
statement (no unfair instance) .that " when that rela
tionship " {i.e. a man's acknowledgment of himself
as. Christ's disciple) " has been brought about, dog
matising on the part of the superior" {i.e. Christ)
" ceases to be an offence, and at the same moment
argument becomes often mere surplusage." ' But if
we advance a step further still and fix our attention on
the best specimens of Church teaching in reference to
this subject, then no doubt, as in many of the writings
referred to above, and perhaps still more in the
writings of theologians who approach dogma from its
' Meyrick, Is Dogma a Necessity ? ad initium. U 2

292 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART IV
strictly Biblical side — we should meet with pro
nouncements which it would be difficult to improve
upon, as e.g. Lightfoot's "Dogmatic forms are the
buttresses or the scaffold-poles of the building, not the
building itself"' Still, not even the best class of theo
logians in the Church of England have as yet attempted
to work out the suggestions which frequentl)' proceed
from them to this effect in anything like a satis
factory form, or with anything like abiding results.
(B) Dogma and the Act of Faith. When we come
to treat of the other vitalising influence by which
dogma requires to be strengthened, it appears that
there is not much more room for satisfaction in the
state of things which we see around us. The word
dogma suggests to most persons harsh and repellent
associations, whereas the act of faith excites the
admiration even of many of those by whom it is re
garded as a delusion. There are votaries of dogma,
and there are witnesses to faith, but those who belong
to the one class do not by any means always belong
to the other, and even where this is so, the connection
between dogma and faith is often purely accidental.
And if we pursued the discrepancy further, we should
find that dogma has been by many surrendered, not
more on account of its supposed incredibility than on
account of its supposed incompatibility with the act
of faith. This last fact may, no doubt, justly be re
garded as a reason for hopefulness, but it is not less a
reason for expecting, something to be done by theo
logians in order to effect a reconciliation. We shall
continue the discussion of this subject in the next
chapter, but meantime it may be said that the little
ness of the results which have been forthcoming in
this direction, is one chief reason of the discredit into
which dogmatic theology has often fallen in the eyes
of religious men and women, as distinguished from
the discredit which often attaches to it on other
grounds in the eyes of the world at large.
' Preface to the Commentary on the Epistle to the Philip
pians, p. ix.

CHAPTER V
THE ACT OF FAITH
It is impossible for any one who compares the
leading characteristics of contemporary theology in
the Church of England with the characteristics
of Anglican theology in the antecedent period,
not to be struck by the different tests which are
applied in the two cases respectively to the determina
tion of the act of faith. The Tractarians and their
immediate successors seem to have been chiefly
interested in discussing the authority on which the
act of faith rests, whilst in more recent times the
attention of our theologians has centred rather on the
nature of the act itself It would, however, be a
mistake to suppose that the substitution of this latter
question concerning faith was intended to give the
cold shoulder to the earlier one. On the contrary,
not only have there never at any subsequent time been
wanting discussions as regards the authoritative
claims of faith, and the relation of faith to reason, to
Scripture, and to tradition, but such discussions have
quite latterly assumed increasing prominence. The
two questions are indeed essentially connected, and
the investigation of the one must always suggest
that of the other.
This view of the relationship of these two questions
is confirmed by our interpretation of the change with
regard to them which has taken place in our own
generation, as above stated. The question as to the
authority of faith only yielded to the question as to

294 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND part iv
the nature of the act of faith, because it appeared
from the position in which the whole subject was left
by Dr. Newman, that no progress could be made with
the former question until some further light had been
thrown on the latter.
Newman's denial of the claims of reason, in the
limited sense in which that term had been understood
by the old eighteenth century rationalism, does not
go beyond the destructive criticism of Kant in
reference to the same subject. In Germany, however,
there had been a plentiful crop of speculations— often
no doubt unprofitable — following upon Kant's
destruction of rationalism, and intended to show that
the deliverances of the finite self, or individual reason,
are dependent on, and relative to, a higher reason
which — whilst itself becoming articulate in them — is
what alone gives to them their reality and signifi
cance. Now, such statements and expressions,
however much or however little may be thought of
them, do at any rate represent an attempt to formulate
the conditions of a problem which necessarily comes to
the front, so soon as the claims ofthe merel)- individual
reason are recognised as baseless. Newman, however,
having arrived at this latter recognition, simply
satisfied himself by asserting the paramount authority
of the Church as a substitute. He thus bequeathed
to the Church of England, at the same time that he
himself parted company with her, two problems for
solution. (A) The first problem, at the time of its emergence,
was of limited range. It had reference to the com
parative claims of the Churches of Rome and of
England to exercise authority in matters of faith, as
likewise to the kind and degree of the obedience which
submission to Church authority requires. But by
degrees this problem came to include a more general
reference to thc question of authorit)- in matters of
religion, under \\'hich latter form a large part of the
theology of recent times has been concerned with it.
(B) The second problem started from the assump-

CHAP. V THE ACT OF FAITH 295
tion that before the question of the authority of faith
could be settled, some examination was required into
its nature. It was hoped that by tracing faith back
to its source, and by then following it to its derivative
results, a perfect analogy and even identity might be
found to exist between faith in its earlier workings as
the elemental factor of religion, and faith in its later
and more complex manifestations in that sense in
which we speak of it as the Faith or — in other words
— the Church's form of faith. Obviously, if this iden
tity could be established, the position of the Church
would be strengthened to an extent which could not
possibly result from the mere consideration of faith
with reference to the organ of authority constituting
its validity.
Now, recent theology has alternated between these
two modes of treating the subject of faith. The first
— especially in its narrower form — was that which
prevailed most during the period immediately suc
ceeding Dr. Newman's secession. At a later time
that aspect of faith which we have just described
tended to become dominant. This latter, indeed —
viz. the attempt to connect faith with the Faith —
is the more mature expression of the Church's mind,
and we shall therefore be chiefly concerned with it in
what follows. At the same time, we repeat, this view
is to be regarded as an attempt not to supersede, but
rather to present in a fresh light, the first view. And
before we have doiie, we hope to show how that first
view — even in the narrower form of it mentioned
above — has actually been influenced by ideas de
rived from the second view, to the exposition of which
latter we shall now proceed.
We regard it then as a most important character
istic of recent religious thought, that the primitive im
plications of faith have been increasingly treated in
connection with the forms which faith assumes in its
later development. Thus, to one class of inquirers
faith appears as already implicitly contained in the
deliverances of the conscience and in the assertion of

296 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART iv
the moral law. The influence of Kant is apparent in
this tendency, which may be illustrated by such
passages as the following : — " Now, even before we re
cognise the full force of this witness of the conscience,
we must observe that in proportion to its clearness and
decisiveness, it requires an act of faith as distinct from
reason." ' " This is its first utterance " {i.e. that of the
inner voice), " and the man who hears and obeys un
questionably has within him the true seed of all re
ligion." 2 On the other hand, faith is sometimes repre
sented more generally as the outcome of personality,
and as involved in the primary conditions of self-con
sciousness. " The condition in which a child is born calls
out some elements of faith." ^ " It is faith in another
 it is being in another  and it has reference
to the poverty of self alone with self" " Acts of af
fection, imagination, chivalry, are all to be regarded as
acts of faith." ^ "All such acts are acts of venture, using
evidence of reason in order to go beyond evidence." ^
This deeper view of faith and its analogies is by no
means the exclusive property of the Church of Eng
land, still less of any one party or school in that
Church. By this what we mean is, that non-Anglican
theologians as e.g. Thomas Erskine, of Linlathen,
originally did as much as, and perhaps more than,
F. D. Maurice and other then contemporary theo
logians of our own communion, to trace faith back to
its more general sources. At the same time, the
theology of our own day has given a slightly new turn
to the tendency in question, this result being no doubt
due to the operation of Kantian and Hegelian influ
ences in the interval. Instead, however, of indicating
the differences thus caused, it will be more germane
to our purpose to take note of the effects produced on
English theology — and more especially on the theology
of the Church'of England— by the increasing preval-
' Wace, -Hampton Lectures, p. 35.
- Temple, Bampton Lectures, p. 52.
¦¦ C. P. Holland on " Faith," in Lux Mundi. The preceding
quotations are from Mulford's Republic of God.

CHAP, v THE ACT OF FAITH 297
ence of that view of faith which is the subject of our
remarks. The first of such effects showed itself in the partial
abandonment of those external evidences, both as
touching natural and revealed religion, which had
previously been so much in fashion. Evidential and
apologetic arguments derived from this source were
set aside by Churchmen, not so much because they
were regarded as having been invalidated by criticism
— though no doubt they often were so regarded — as
because it had come to be felt that the appeal of
faith must be made on altogether different grounds.
In the present age there is a much greater demand
for a direct presentation of the subject-matter of
faith than there is for even the most conclusive
demonstration of its grounds. Hence, many of the
arguments which were once those most relied on,
passed out of sight without any conscious surrender of
belief in them, either by theologians or by the religious
pubhc. This tendency in its more vulgar form started from
the presupposition that whatever cannot be immedi
ately felt, realised, utilised, is of no value ; this being
likewise the test now generally employed in order to
distinguish success and failure in practical life. But
in the case of the higher religious intelligence of the
nineteenth century, faith's requirement of a direct
appeal to be made to itself involved much more than
this. What was desired in this latter case was, no
doubt, similarly a face to face presentation of faith
with its object. Yet this desire was no mere senseless
craving for belief without proof, nor was it complained
by the best thinkers in reference to this subject, that
slow and laborious processes were made use of in order
to establish the claims of faith on firmer ground. It
was rather urged, or at least this was what the demand
amounted to, that the proofs brought forward on
behalf of faith must at each step imply faith. They
must not be mere mechanical and external propo
sitions considered necessary in order to justify a,

298 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART IV
subsequent act of faith, which act, owing to the burden
of previous proof required, might be, and often was,
indefinitely postponed. In order to avoid this latter
result, faith must make of each of its means an end ;
must corroborate by feeling what it reaches by
argument, must convert its so-called proofs into helps
to the spiritual life of the believer.
This, so far as regards faith, is the dominating
tendency of recent religious literature, an attentive
examination of which would show that in consequence
of the view now so generally taken of faith, most
of the old apologetical arguments have been either
wholly or partially abandoned.
But though many of the positions formerly occupied
by apologists were thus compulsorily evacuated, faith,
so far from suffering, was greatly strengthened by
this very fact. For besides being relieved of those
of its supports which in process of time had
become antiquated and useless, faith was now
left free to follow her own course in other direc
tions. It is thus that the view taken by faith, has of
late years become not only wider and more compre
hensive, but has also envisaged its problems under new
aspects ; the result being that though no doubt some
times faith " has faltered " where once " she firmly
trod," often, on the other hand, she " has trod " more
" firmly " where once she " faltered." And our
theologians are without doubt profiting by these ex
periences, not only in the shape of a more scientific,
but also in the shape of a more religious, presenta
tion of their subject, i.e. a presentation of it from
the point of view of faith. It is true that this latter
consideration necessarily enters more into the popular
treatment of theology than it does into its tech
nical and professional treatment ; the best current
popular teaching indeed is extremely rich in illustra
tions which bear out the above description. Yet it
would be a mistake to suppose that the contributions
which are from time to time made to the materials of
strictl)' theological investigation are not capable of

CHAP. V THE ACT OF FAITH 299
being regarded, and are not in the habit of being
regarded, as contributions also to the enlargement of
the faith of the theologian. Every such contribution
is a help to the exercise of faith, both by increasing
its range, and by making it more intelligible through
the suggestion of new points of connection. It needs
a combination of the results of learning with the vision
of faith in order to make theology living and fruitful.
Not that English theologians have not hitherto worked
under the impulse of faith. But then, as Professor
Sanday so well reminds us, " in England . . . there
has been more of that fugitive and evanescent quality
than of solid material for it to work on." But " now "
he adds, " thanks more than any one else to Bishop
Lightfoot and his Cambridge compeers, we are
beginning to accumulate such material." '
But it may be said, if all this is so, if the act
of faith — as at present conceived — consists in destroy
ing on the one hand, and on the other hand in merely
suggesting vague possibilities of reconstruction re
served for future fulfilment, what safeguards are
proposed by Church of England theologians in order
to secure faith against the dangers of self-destructive
criticism on the one hand and mere nebulousness on
the other ?
In answer to this question, attention must be called
to the increasing stress which has been laid of late
years on the necessity of at least some real conviction
of sin and .?ome sense of the need of conversion, pre
paratory to the engagement of the mind with the
problems which faith passes under review. It is
indeed of the essence of this new view that faith
should be safeguarded by the requirement of spiritual
qualifications rather than by the imposition of merely
external tests of orthodoxy. Not that those who take
this view of faith are either necessarily, or usually,
indifferent to their obligations as churchmen. On the
contrary, such persons are in many, if not in most,
cases quite irreproachable in this latter respect. But
' Expositor, third series, vol. iv. p. 29.

300 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART iv
though the observance of outward forms is thus
insisted on and is often even accentuated, the reality
of a man's faith is commonly tested, in the first
instance, by reference to preliminary spiritual ex
periences. Nor could this be otherwise without in
volving an inconsistency. For if faith, as conceived
at starting, is inward and spiritual — having its witness
in the conscience, or in the sense of sonship, or in some
other primary characteristic of the relationship between
man and God — then it necessarily follows that the
first experience of faith in confronting the world will
be the sense, either of a violated law, or of a lost com
panionship, or at all events of a want of harmony of
some sort between itself and its object. Consequently,
this experience — whether of defect, or of discord, or
of outrage — must be upon this view the determining
consideration as regards the reality of faith in the
first instance. And together with this experience and
as a necessary part of it, there must be involved on
man's part a desire for the restoration ofthe primitive
relationship between faith and its object or — in other
words — a sense of the need of conversion, in order that
man ma)' be again brought into harmony with God.
Hence, the tendency of recent theology in the
Church of England has been more or less to give a
free hand to faith in the discussion of the questions
suggested by itself, or brought under its notice from
the outside. The only limitation imposed, concerns
not the matter of what shall or shall not be believed,
but rather the necessity of a certain state of mind
agreeable to faith having been experienced previous
to the subject-matter of faith being discussed. The
contention urged is to this very simple effect, viz.
that an elementary acquaintance with the facts of any
given situation is required in order to estimate its
true nature. But the facts from which faith starts
are, the conviction of sin and the desire for restora
tion to the Divine favour. Let a man become ac
quainted with these facts, i.e. not merely intellectu
ally but also in his own spiritual experience, and we

CHAP. V THE ACT OF FAITH 301
are then willing — but not otherwise — to give him a
free hand in the discussion of matters of faith.
Such is the contention, stated in its most pro
nounced form. Of course, it does not often advance
to these lengths. Few theologians of the Church of
England would be prepared to grant to this extent
what they are here represented as offering, even
subject to the conditions above named. At the same
time, this is the direction in which religious thought
in the Church of England is now moving. We see
it in the attitude which leading Churchmen adopt
towards men of science. Thus it is that one of our
most eloquent preachers expresses himself with
regard to the career of Charles Darwin, considered in
relation to religion : —
We had, perhaps, supposed that we had to count the whole
force of Mr. Darwin's mind as against us in our Christian belief
.... What a relief, then, to discover that this other had never
had the experiences to which we make our primary appeal ;
was not ever in possession of the facts which are to us so
convincing ; that he had not travelled into the country of which
we are talking ! What a relief to find that he has never given
judgment against our creed, simply because the matters that
constitute its justification never fell within his range and
horizon ! It is as if we, who were being ravished with some
melodious music, had been disturbed at noticing another
listener, who remained totally unconcerned and inattentive,
without a sign of emotion on his face .... and were then
suddenly to discover that he was stone-deaf .... An answer
is sure to look futile to a man who has never asked the
question to which it responds. A solution cannot commend
itself when the problem which it solves has never been felt. A
hazardous and tremendous effort at a rescue is bound to seem
silly and uncalled for by those who recognise no peril to which
they are liable.'
The requirement of this qualification has no
doubt to some extent been due to the predispos
ing tendencies of contemporary Church life. That
life, as we have seen, is animated by a spirit of
the most extreme ecclesiastical exclusiveness which,
' Holland, On Behalf of Belief , pp. 83-85.

302 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART IV
however, it combines with assimilative and apprecia
tive inclinations in other directions. Now, faith of
the kind described above, acts as an intensive force,
both in respect of the Church's concentrative energies,
and likewise in respect of her bias towards exclusive
ness. Obviously, the profession of such a faith unites
men in close sympathy with each other as the
members of a select band of believers, whilst, on the
other hand, it separates them by a sharp line of
distinction from the surrounding world. Conse
quently, this type of faith has always been in great
favour with small religious coteries and sectarian
associations. The Church of England has been
prevented from approximating more than it has done
to these latter, by its larger and more liberal interpre
tation of this same faith, which though, as above
stated, capable of serving as a basis for mere
sectarianism, is likewise capable of exhibiting catholic
characteristics and of fulfilling an absolutely indispen
sable function in relation to the catholic synthesis.
In truth, this view of faith is not in the least
narrow or exclusive, when it is rightly understood.
Its association with the prevailing ecclesiastical
tendencies of the Church of England is a mere coin
cidence, and one which it would be a proof of the
utmost shortsightedness to regard as necessary or
permanent. To impute the characteristics of cliqueism
to this view of faith is therefore absurd. How then
ought we to understand faith's credentials, viz. as
consisting in a conviction of sin and a felt need of
conversion .? Surely, what these preliminaries of
faith require in order to be universalised is to be ex
plained as the Church explains them, only with fuller
reference to the catholic S)'nthesi3 as a whole. Man
does not only experience the sense of a broken
harmony, but also the sense of an incomplete know
ledge. He feels himself not merely sinful, but also
ignorant. He longs for the revelation of God to be
brought home to him, not merely in nature but also
in history, not merely in history but also in those

CHAP. V THE ACT OF FAITH 303
highest generalisations as regards divine things which
are called dogmatic, not merely in dogma but also in
the act of faith, this last being considered independ
ently as well as with reference to the determinations
previously arrived at. This yearning which a man has
to know God throughout the totality of His relation
ships is as much a preliminary of faith as is the sense
of sin and the desire for salvation. In both cases there
is the same feeling of loneliness until the communion
with God has been brought about. No doubt, the sense
of sin is the deeper and more universal experience,
but there is nothing to be gained, and much to be lost,
by limiting the antecedent conditions of faith to this
particular consideration. For though the desire for
self-realisation as regards God on the platform of
knowledge, can never take the place of the desire for
forgiveness of sin, it may yet be a means of ministering
to this latter desire and even of satisfying it. And in
some natures the former desire is the predominant one,
or rather, it is the vehicle through which thc latter
desire makes itself felt.
But if we thus extend the preliminary conditions of
faith, we should find that many men — especially men
of science — would be able to qualify as having a claim
to investigate the subject-matter of faith, to whom this
claim is now denied by apologists on the grounds
above mentioned. The requirement would then be
that there should be a felt desire, not merely for
inteflectual knowledge (this being in no necessary
sense connected with the aspirations of faith), but for
a spiritual realisation of that knowledge, such as might
lead to a treatment of the credentials of Christianity
from the point of view of one who, if not a believer,
was at least not altogether an outsider. Such a
requirement might fairly be demanded and would be
in no sense objectionable. It is, indeed, not easy to
see how the safeguarding of faith could be otherwise
accomplished without either a too exclusive limitation
on the one hand, or the removal of all qualifications
for forming a judgment on the other.

304 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART iv
So far, we have considered the act of faith with
reference to the determining influence exercised upon
it by its original conception. Faith was traced back
to its original source, and under this form it appeared,
either as borne witness to by the conscience, or as
involved in the conditions of personality. This con
ception of faith in its earlier forms has, we saw,
dominated the treatment of faith in its later develop
ments. It has done so, in the first place, by suggest
ing an appeal to the inner sense as a substitute for
the older arguments, based on external evidences.
However, the clean sweep which was thus necessi
tated, acted as a strengthening influence by leaving
men free to find supports for faith in other directions.
Accordingly, we next find the original conception of
faith made use of in connection with the new lines of
departure suggested to theology by its own increased
knowledge and enlarged interests. Finally, we con
sidered how the possibly chaotic state of things
arising from this last occupation of faith had been
provided against by safeguards, and how the chief
of such safeguards was itself agreeable to the original
conception of faith and owed its strength and popu
larity to that very cause. The improvement of which
this latter safeguard is susceptible formed part of the
same consideration.
What we have to do now is, to show- how far the
vantage ground which has been thus gained has
enabled theologians to present the external supports
of faith in a fresh light.
The consentient testimony of those who have
spoken with most claim to be heard on behalf of the
Church of England is to the effect that all such
supports are to be measured and estimated by their
correspondence with those tests of faith above indi
cated. The dogmas, the evidences, the supernatural
claims are maintained as strenuously as of old,
though some of the arguments formerly used in their
defence have, as we have seen, been eliminated. But
these credenda are not regarded as having any value

CHAP. V THE ACT OF FAITH

305

except in virtue of their power to sustain faith, such
faith being derived, either from the witness of the
conscience to God, or from the sense of the Father
hood of God. And as these things have their value
as serving this function, so they are tested by their
efficacy in these respects, or rather, the right and the
wrong use of these things is thus determined.
Now the use popularly made of these adjuncts to
faith is more often than not a wrong one. Con
sequently our theologians have been largely occupied
in correcting this error. Thus with regard to dogma
employed in such a way as to hinder the growth of
the Christian life, we are told " Christianity is a
present, an existing life, or it is nothing. . . . The
Christianity of evidences and dogmas alone no more
realises it than the bones of the fossil creatures, which
Science collects and arranges, give us an idea of the
living things themselves as they once moved in the
power and beauty of their life" ' Another theo
logian sees in the acceptance of miracles on any
other but moral grounds a danger resulting to the
moral consciousness. " In proportion as this moral
and spiritual sensibility is dormant, the faith of even
professed Christians is but notional and traditional
and is destitute of real life and stability. A prophet
or an apostle who announces a revelation from God
and who claims our submission to it, appeals to us
for trust ; and that trust must depend not merely
upon the miracles he may be able to work, but also
upon the moral authority he wields ; while this again
will depend not only upon the witness's moral
depth and insight, but upon our own also."'
Similarly, with regard to the habit of putting the
Bible and the creeds in the place of living com
munion with God, we read that though — " we cannot
now, in full view of the facts, believe in Christ,
without finding that our belief includes the Bible and
the creeds," yet "still with the creeds as with the
' Magee, The Gospel and the Age, p. 175.
Wace, Bampton Lectures, p. 77.

3o6 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART IV
Bible, it is the personal intimacy with God in Christ
which alone is our concern. We do not in the strict
sense believe in the Bible, or in the creeds ; we be
lieve solely, and absolutely in Christ Jesus. Faith is
our living act of adherence in Him, of cohesion with
God." 1
Hence, it would appear that the view of recent
theology as regards the relation of faith to the
externals of Christian belief may be analysed into
the following three elements : —
I. There is a domain of faith into which these
externals of religion do not enter, though we may be
helped better to understand the object of faith by
their means. The object of faith is realised in the
act of faith itself simply and solely.
2. These same externals have no other value ex
cept as supports to faith. In this latter sense they
may have an ethical value by exhibiting the moral
character of God, as e.g. in the case of miracles,
or they may have value as a direct revelation from
God, e.g. the Bible, or their value may consist in the
embodiment which they present of faith's past ex
periences, e.g. the dogmatic creeds.
3. Popular theology is constantly confusing be
tween the act of faith and the external supports of
faith, and the better class of our theologians have
been constantly employed of late years in endeavour
ing to correct the mistakes which have arisen from
this cause.
Now, all this is healthy, and represents a great
advance upon the previous state of religious thought
in the Church of England. We thus see how the
first view of faith, which is concerned with its nature,
has been applied to and has infiuenced the second
view, which deals with the external grounds of its
authority, the concern of theologians with these two
views during the previous period having been in the
inverse order. We even see traces of the same ten
dency in the manner in which the claims to authority
' Holland on " Faith," in Lux Mundi, p. 33, 12th edition.

CHAP. V THE ACT OF FAITH 307
of particular Churches are now determined, i.e. no
longer (as in the old Tractarian days) with reference
to their possession of this or that external mark or
" note " of catholicity, but with reference to the
obligations of faith according to its original concep
tion, as e.g. in the following passage, " accordingly, in
rejecting the claims of the Roman Catholic Church,
"we are not simply refusing to add one article of faith
the more to those which we have already accepted. On
the contrary, we are refusing to admit a principle
which would be fatal to all faith whatever. There is
a terrible truth in the saying of an English divine,
that a consistent Romanist is a man ' who has had the
backbone of his conscience broken,' and to break the
backbone of conscience is to break the backbone of
faith. It is thus that the primary principles of what
is called Protestantism involves a revival of the essen
tial conditions of vital faith." '
At the same time, we cannot regard the state of
things which has been thus brought about with
unmixed satisfaction. That revolt of religious feeling
against dogma — spoken of at the end of the last
chapter — is likely, owing to this mode of representa
tion (though quite against the intention of the
theologians in question) to receive additional encour
agement — a result which could only be avoided by
the infusion of fresh life into dogmatic forms, mere
incipient attempts at which were all that we were able
to record in our sketch of the recent history of dogma.
The meaning of this criticism is, not that we dis
approve of the line taken by our theologians as regards
the relationship of faith to dogma, but that we do not
think that this relationship can ever be satisfactorily
established if, on the one hand, faith is declared to
be " back behind the region of knowledge," ^ whilst, on
the other hand, dogma is not revivified in such a way
as to be capable of interpretation in the light of faith.
What inevitably happens under such circumstances is
' Wace, Bampton Lectures, p. 205.
2 Holland, Lux Mundi, p. 25, 12th edition.

3o8 THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND PART iv
that the religious public not unnaturally regards faith
as too loftily conceived, too mystical for its compre
hension, at the same time that dogma appears to it as
deprived by faith of its spiritual contents. It would
surely be better to do away with dogmatic forms
altogether rather than insist on their retention at
all cost, whilst in fact treating them as mere external
appendages of a faith lying beyond them. The alter
native is to understand dogma as the intelligible ex
pression of Christian thought in relation to matters of
faith, and then to work out the problems of dogmatic
theology to the furthest point to which their investiga
tion admits of being carried without trespassing on
faith's domain. From the time of the Reformation
until quite recently, dogmatic forms have been con
ceived in a spiritual sense, though no doubt largely by
the help of that identification of them with the arcana
of faith which theology in our own days has dis
credited. But there is no reason why — without any
such confusion being involved — the determinations
of religious thought should not be reverently inter
preted, which is all that dogmatic theology really
amounts to, when rightly understood.
Enough, however, has been said on this point,
further insistence on which would besides tend to leave
an impression that the theology of the Church of
England is in an unsatisfactory condition as regards
its treatment of this same act of faith. This,
at all events, is not the opinion of the present
writer. It seems to him that one of the chief
grounds for looking forward with hope to the future is
the healthy and vigorous character of the tendency to
which expression has been given in the manner above
described. The theology of the Church of England has not —
except in Biblical investigation and criticism — im
proved recently on its previous reputation. Yet never
at any time have its prospects seemed brighter, because
never at any time has its faith been stronger.

A Catalogue of
Theological Works
published by
MacmiUan &' Co.
Bedford Street, Strand, London

CONTENTS

The Bible —
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BiMical History ....
The Old Testament
The New Testament
History of the Christian Church
The Church of England
Devotional Books ....
The Fathers 
Hymnology
Sermons, Lectures, Addresses, and Theological
Essays ...

January 1893.

MACMILLAN AND CO.'S
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THEOLOGICAL CATALOGUE 9
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THEOLOGICAL CATALOGUE ii
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THEOLOGICAL CATALOGUE 13
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14 MACMILLAN AND CO.'S
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THEOLOGICAL CATALOGUE IS
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THEOLOGICAL CATALOGUE 17
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