Ecclesiastical History of England, Volume 4—The Church of the Restoration [part 2]

Theological science is a growth; and to its growth, as developed in our own day, the labours of a long line of students have contributed. The genesis of doctrinal opinion is a subject worthy of much more careful research than it has yet received. To find out how particular dogmas have been broached and modified, how they have originated and been unfolded, goes far to fix their truth or their falsehood; and any man who would thoroughly understand the theology of this country, must study carefully the chief authors of theological literature in the seventeenth century. Andrewes, Donne, Jackson, Thorndike, Taylor, Pearson, and Bull—More, Smith, Cudworth, and Barrow—Goodwin, Owen, Baxter, Howe, and Charnock—were all eminent Divines of that period—all, in different degrees, erudite scholars—all hard thinkers; and although they belonged to schools of thought differing in important respects, inasmuch as they read each other’s books, and answered each other’s arguments, they could not but influence each other’s minds. To ponder and to compare them is an exercise helpful to a theological thinker in his search after truth. Unless we believe in the infallibility of our own Church, whatever that Church may be—unless we also believe our own Church to have collected every part of theological truth, to have examined it under every possible aspect, and to have secured the best possible point of view—all of us who engage in sacred studies are bound not to confine ourselves to the perusal of authors who belong to the way of thinking which prevails in our own denomination. Rome has her Index Expurgatorius, and in this she is perfectly consistent. Protestantism, whilst it condemns the Romanist prohibition of inquiry, is excessively inconsistent, if it encourages similar exclusiveness on the part of its own disciples, or allows a wider circle of reading only for controversial purposes. The narrowness of theological schools, and the bigotry of religious sects, is very much owing to a limited acquaintance with books, and to a prejudiced feeling against what is read when accustomed limits are overstepped. And in reference to the authors of the seventeenth century, it cannot be fairly denied—after all which may justly be said touching the dryness and prolixity of their dissertations—that a depth, thoroughness, and power may be found in some of these men which we miss, with a few exceptions, in Divines of our own day.

As the writings of which I speak, together with other influences, have served to produce phases of religious thought amongst ourselves, so amongst them, the writings of earlier theologians, together with other influences, served to produce the characteristic peculiarities of their religious thought. We are apt to underrate the number of ways in which thinking is affected; and we often forget that a simple result may proceed from most complex and composite causes. Many people imagine that the climate of a country is determined entirely by position in point of latitude—that every mile nearer the pole it must be colder, and every mile nearer the equator it must be warmer; whereas numerous and diversified agencies interfere with climate, and produce wonderful curves in the isothermal lines. So, many people imagine that one cause—the study of the Bible—solely determines theological opinion; whereas, forces of all descriptions—even climate and scenery, race and language, laws and memories, especially early education, domestic life, books, friendships, and idiosyncrasies—have a share in the result. Divines two centuries ago might not, any more than ourselves, be conscious of the diversified and subtle operations to which they were subjected; but that circumstance does not interfere with the fact itself.

There had been four broad lines of theological opinion long before the middle of the seventeenth century, as there have been four broad lines running on ever since. In the second century and onward we meet with patristic orthodoxy, the great facts and principles of Christianity taught by the Apostles being illustrated and defended, especially in the Nicene age, by thoughtful men, who, in the use of their natural faculties, by the blessing of Almighty God, explained and established much which is true; not, however, without an admixture of something which was false. In the third century we meet with Alexandrian philosophy, which, by a natural tendency, aimed at bringing the intellectual culture of the age into connection with the Gospel; and therefore dwelt much upon the reasonableness of Christianity, and the points of affinity between it and certain forms of human opinion. In the fourth century we find dogmatic Evangelicalism gathered up by Augustine, and woven into a distinctive system of Christian thought. At the same time the element of Mysticism appears at work, preparing for a vigorous expression of itself during the middle ages. Throughout those ages these four currents are traceable, generic resemblances, being marked, of course, by specific varieties. At the Reformation two of these, the Nicene and the Augustinian, are manifest enough in the English Protestant Church, both struggling against Rome; each also struggling with the other. The traces of Alexandrianism and of Mysticism, after disappearing for awhile, become distinctly visible in the seventeenth century.

It is impossible not to connect the Anglican development of that period with the faith, the polity, and the worship of the Nicene age, and the Puritan doctrines of the same period, with the theology and spiritual life of Augustine. Nor can there be any doubt that the so-called Latitudinarianism (I use the word in its historical sense) of the Cambridge school comes in lineal succession to that of Alexandria. And if Mysticism, as existing amongst Quakers, be not capable of showing distinct historical links of connection with previous thinking, it is plain that its elements had existed long before: a fact, indeed, insisted upon by its more erudite exponents.[374] Anglicans, Puritans, Latitudinarians, and Mystics were all of ancient lineage, although some were unacquainted with, and might even be prejudiced against, their ancestry. Besides, as already indicated, there were other and more immediate influences at work. The ecclesiastical revolutions and conflicts under Elizabeth and the Stuarts, the traditions of domestic life, parental and school education, the atmosphere pervading social circles, and especially the constitution of individual minds—these served to shape systems which stood in direct and determined conflict with one another. Nor let it be forgotten that, though divers factors of religious thought may be enumerated, others exist which lie too deep for discovery and analysis, even by the most subtle inquirers. If it be true generally that we have no complete science of history, it is eminently true of the history of theological opinion. There is mystery in all growth, for there is mystery in all life; and it is idle to suppose that, at least in this world, we shall ever arrive at a perfect philosophy of the progress or activity of mind, in reference to that which is at once, of all subjects, the most practical and the most mysterious.

It will assist the reader in understanding what follows, to observe that, whilst all the theologians to be described appealed to Scripture, each class had its own standard and principles of interpretation; and that, whilst all professed to take the Bible as a whole, each selected from it some favourite parts. The Anglicans, professedly as well as actually, adopted the teaching of the first four or five centuries as a guide to the meaning of Holy Writ. They looked upon that period as the purest and ripest age of Christian wisdom, and concluded that the Church of after-days has been, and is, bound to adhere to the faith and order then established. The Puritans had no such idea of patristic teaching, but contended for the full right of private judgment. Some of the Fathers they valued and loved, particularly Augustine; yet without attaching any special authority even to him. They professed to come to the sacred oracles with unbiassed minds, and it is one of their characteristic notions that the Holy Spirit, bestowed upon devout seekers, remains alone the unerring Expositor of His own Word. The Latitudinarians had their favourite authors, particularly of the Greek philosophical school; and although they did not adopt the opinions of the Puritans as to the teaching of the Spirit, any more than did the Anglicans, yet, in common with both of them, they were prepared to seek Divine assistance in the study of the sacred volume. What, however, they mainly relied upon was their own reason. The Quakers, in their turn, extolled the inward light, the illumination of Christ’s Spirit, as explaining and supplementing the written Word. The Fathers, the Holy Spirit, human reason, and the inward light, were the interpreters to which different classes of Scripture students looked for help in their momentous investigations. In connection with this difference another presents itself. The Anglicans insisted upon those parts of Scripture which relate to the Holy Trinity, the Incarnation, and the Atonement, and to the ordinances of baptism and the Lord’s Supper. They used the priesthood and rites of Judaism for the support of their own views regarding sacerdotal ministrations. Diocesan episcopacy and Apostolical succession they endeavoured to deduce from the New Testament; but they were obliged to rest principally upon patristic records for what they believed and taught upon these subjects.

Passages relating to justification by faith, to the election of grace, and to the adoption of believers, do not stand out in their writings, as do the other class of passages to which I have referred. In this respect the Anglicans differed from the Puritans. By the latter, texts bearing upon the topics now mentioned, in connection with other texts touching the Divinity of our Lord, and the Holy Trinity, and the satisfaction made by Christ upon the cross, were most abundantly cited, illustrated, and enforced. The Puritans regarded such texts as distinctive of the Gospel—as rendering it a suitable message of redemption and love to sinful men. I scruple not to say that I warmly sympathize with them in this last respect. The Gospel is glad tidings of great joy to all people: this is the pith of the blessed message, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” “His name shall be called Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins.” But whilst I admire and honour the Puritans for their attachment to evangelic truth, I cannot conceal my conviction that they too, in their turn, are chargeable with one-sidedness. They had their favourite verses, and, in some instances, dwelt upon them to the neglect of others, and without fully considering the general current of Scripture instructions—which current is really still more important and decisive than particular sentences, which are apt to be looked at apart from their connection. Some of the Puritan Divines did not sufficiently consider those passages which recognize in the Atonement an element of moral power over the human soul; or those passages which present justification and sanctification, in their inseparable relation, as two sides of one and the same redemption; or those passages which teach the power of the human will, the free agency of man, and his personal responsibility; or those passages which unfold the sweet and beautiful fatherhood of Almighty God. The reaction produced by the errors of Popery in identifying sanctification with justification, in overlooking the free grace of the Gospel, and in fostering notions of human merit, drove the Puritans into extreme antagonistic positions, where the forensic idea of righteousness too often overshadowed the moral idea, and an inevitable and resistless fatalism took the place of Divine parental government at once merciful and righteous. Some of the Puritans, indeed, lie less open to such exceptions than did others, as will appear in the subsequent analysis of their works.

The Latitudinarians also had their favourite portions of hallowed Writ, raising the moral teaching of the New Testament, and what they considered the large and liberal views of humanity given in the Bible, above the doctrinal sentences which so much occupied the attention of Anglicans on the one hand, and above those which equally occupied the attention of Puritans on the other. To Latitudinarians, Christianity seemed more an ethical than a doctrinal system; and in their writings evangelic truth shines with a very subdued and chilly kind of illumination.

The Quakers, too, had their favourite verses, and were continually insisting upon those which, as they thought, supported the idea of an inward light.

What has now been imperfectly advanced in relation to predominant lines of thinking in the seventeenth century is to be accepted only in a general sense. One writer differed so much from another, that, whilst resemblances exist, mere general statements respecting them are likely to mislead, unless they are checked and modified by a careful review of individual opinions.

Such a review is now to be attempted, with a full conviction of its very great difficulties.

Taking the period between the opening of the Long Parliament and the Revolution (1640–1688), I might divide it into two epochs—the one extending as far as the end of the Commonwealth, the other beginning at that crisis. Modes of thought of the kind just pointed out can be traced along the whole course, abreast of each other. The two antagonistic systems are Anglicanism and Puritanism; and from 1640 to 1660, Puritanism is seen in the ascendant, as a reaction against Anglicanism; and from 1660 to 1688, Anglicanism is in the ascendant, as a reaction against Puritanism. No doubt some slight differences obtained between the Anglicanism of the first twenty years and the Anglicanism of the last twenty-eight, and the same may be said of the Puritanism of the first and second of those generations; but there is no necessity for breaking the history into two parts, since the general identity of each system is preserved throughout the whole period, and all the leading representatives lived and studied, and most of them acted and wrote, both before and after the Restoration; besides, to separate their later from their earlier works would destroy the unity of this narrative, and create confusion in the reader’s mind. The Latitudinarians appeared at Cambridge before the death of Oliver Cromwell, and at that period began to produce some effect upon theological speculation and religious life; but it was not until afterwards that their characteristic tendencies became fully apparent. Quaker Mysticism took its rise in the midst of the Commonwealth era, and continued its course, with increasing power, up to the hour of the Revolution. Therefore to cut in two the theological history of this half century would be inconvenient; and although the plan which I adopt is open to objection, I shall select examples of the teaching throughout that period, without adopting any chronological subdivision. I shall begin with the Anglicans, then notice the Latitudinarians, then touch upon the Quaker Mystics, and end with the Puritans. My endeavour will be to state them as fairly as I can; not to indulge in vague generalization, but to give their own words and turns of thought whenever it is possible; and, by references as well as citations, to supply the means of rectifying any mistakes into which I may unfortunately happen to fall. In stating arguments on different sides, I shall endeavour to guard against colouring reports of opinion with my own predilections or prejudices. At the same time, I shall not refrain from occasionally indicating, in a few words, my own belief; for no man who has deep convictions touching these subjects, however he may strive to write with impartiality about various parties, will dare to write with indifference upon what he conceives to be vital truths. Moreover, it appears to me very important to notice certain circumstances in the lives of these authors; for it is quite clear to my mind, that we cannot accurately understand the history of theology, or duly estimate theological opinions, apart from the biography of the theologians themselves.

Herbert Thorndike first claims attention. He possessed a mind which was singularly acute and comprehensive. He had trained himself to the practice of subtle reasoning, yet he generally gives, in his writings, indications of no small measure of what Englishmen call common sense; and, on every page, he exhibits those rich and varied treasures of theological learning which a quiet life of study alone can enable any one to accumulate. It cannot be denied that the formal method employed in his arguments is often quite unimpeachable; yet, whilst logical in reasoning, he is illogical in arrangement; and his discursive habits of thought often tempt him into zigzag courses, and lead him to double his path, and retrace his steps, and come back to some point which the reader concludes the author had finished. And to this serious defect he adds another: his crabbed and crooked style presents the most infelicitous collocation of words, perhaps, to be found in English literature, many of his sentences needing to be translated into some plainer form before they can be understood. What a contrast, in point of style, does the student find, when, leaving the majestic diction of Hooker, or the flowing rhythm of Jackson, he turns to the perusal of Thorndike’s paragraphs! Yet, in spite of drawbacks, Thorndike deserves to be carefully studied. No other theologian of his age, or, indeed, of any other, has wrought out the Anglican theory with such elaboration and completeness. The disciples of that system find in his books an arsenal of defence; and its opponents should examine carefully his positions, if they would overthrow the citadel in which Divines of his order are wont to entrench themselves. But he ought not to be studied simply for controversial purposes: any large-minded student, with sympathy for God’s truth wherever found, may derive great advantage from many parts of this good man’s writings.

In common with some other Divines of that day, he passed through a change of opinion, and that at an early period of life. He went to Cambridge with no strong theological bias of any kind, and entered Trinity College at a time when that College was accused neither of Puritan nor of Romanizing tendencies. But he thought less unfavourably of Calvinism at the commencement of his studies than he did during his subsequent career. At first he did not, without some qualification, condemn the doctrine of final perseverance; also he then opposed other parts of the system upon grounds which he afterwards abandoned, as not sufficiently distinct and fundamental. He was also far less severe when controverting the arguments of Nonconformists in the former than in the latter period of his life.[375] Patristic studies, to a large extent, most likely produced the change which he experienced; and his ejectment from his Fellowship at Trinity by the Presbyterians would naturally serve to increase his growing distaste for their distinguishing tenets.

The book in which he unfolds his scheme of divinity was written before the Restoration, and bears the title of An Epilogue to the Tragedy of the Church of England (1659): a title which provoked the criticisms of his friends, especially afterwards, when the book proved to be a prologue to that Church’s revival. The work contains The Principles of Christian Truth; The Covenant of Grace; and The Laws of the Church.

In laying down the principles of Christian truth, Thorndike, as an Anglican, somewhat startles his reader by his first position, that reason is to decide controversies of faith[376]—a form of words which, taken alone, certainly conveys an idea very different from what the writer intends. Any rationalistic interpretation is prevented by what follows. He proceeds, indeed, to explain that neither the private teaching of the Spirit of God to the individual soul on the one hand, nor the authority of the Church in relation to men in general on the other, can be the ground of believing. But, on that account, he does not enthrone human reason. He adds, that there is obscurity in Scripture, all truth being in it not explicitly but only implicitly; and he argues that whilst the Bible is sufficient in one sense, it is not so in another, and that it therefore needs such interpretation as is supplied by the traditions of the Church.[377] The use of reason (or reasoning) in matters of faith is resolved by him into this—that by it “all undertake to persuade all,” and its only scope is in the examination of evidence. Yet what are commonly called the evidences of Christianity are very much overlooked in Thorndike’s writings. There are numerous incidental allusions to the opinions of Herbert and Hobbes. Sometimes these writers are grappled with; but reliance on reasoning is abandoned when, by this Divine, outlawry is maintained to be “the penalty of the Leviathan, and all that have or may follow him either into apostasy or atheism.”[378] Thorndike, indeed, touches on both the external and internal proofs of revealed religion, but he nowhere, that I can find, thoroughly and at length discusses the matter. I may here observe, in passing, that he speaks with approval of the way in which the Jewish Doctors resolve inspiration into different degrees.[379] But the interpretation of Christianity is, in his view, the office of the Church. The Church, he maintains, is a permanent teacher, its permanence depending upon Apostolical succession, and its tuition finding expression in the decisions of Councils and in the writings of Fathers; the authority of the latter being explained as not arising out of personal qualities of learning and holiness, but out of ecclesiastical position. Tradition limits the interpretation of Holy Writ; but this principle “pretends not any general rule for the interpretation of Scripture, even in those things which concern the rule of faith, but infers a prescription against anything that can be alleged out of Scripture, that, if it may appear contrary to that which the whole Church hath received and held from the beginning, it cannot be the true meaning of that Scripture which is alleged to prove it.” At the same time Thorndike says, that the power of the Church limits the tradition of Apostles only in matters of ceremony and order, such as are indifferent in themselves; changes in circumstances, and in the usages of society, rendering changes of that nature necessary and unavoidable: a conclusion equivalent to the well-known one that the Church hath power, within certain bounds, to decree rites and ceremonies. Heresy, Thorndike defines as consisting in the denial of something necessary to salvation; and schism to consist in a departure from the unity of the Church, whether from heresy, or from any other cause. Upon these principles—which he defends at great length, not without many discursions, and sometimes in a manner which it is difficult to follow—Thorndike declares the Church of England to have laid her deep foundations; and her main position is by him asserted to be, that, repudiating all pretensions to infallibility, she owns tradition to be her guide, and requires that “no interpretation of the Scriptures be alleged contrary to the consent of the Fathers.”[380]

The covenant of grace is examined by this Divine at great length; and, if I may be allowed the attempt, I would give an outline of his method somewhat as follows:—

I. The condition of that covenant is the contract of baptism, and that contract is identical with justifying faith. Such faith is not simply credence, or trust, or persuasion—it is not merely the belief of a Divine testimony, or a reliance upon a Divine person—nor is it a conviction that one is already justified and predestinated to life; but is an acceptation of Christianity, “embracing and professing it” as a whole. Faith, as enjoined by St. Paul and St. James, and as exemplified in the lives of the Hebrew patriarchs, is essentially practical; and when the former Apostle puts faith in opposition to works, he means the works of Jewish law, and not the works of Gospel precept. Faith is rooted “in the affection of the will, not in the perfection of the understanding.” Yet good works are entirely the production of Divine grace.[381] Though the Fathers are free to acknowledge, with St. Paul, the doctrine of justification by faith alone, they are, on the other side, so copious in attributing the promises of the Gospel to Christian obedience, that it may be truly said, there is not one of them from whom sufficient authority may not be drawn in favour of it: a concurrence which amounts to a tradition of the whole Church upon this important point.

II. The necessity of the covenant of grace arises out of original sin, which is confessed by David and St. Paul, which consists in concupiscence, and which cleaves to every man by his first birth, the birth of a carnal nature.[382]

III. The Mediator of the covenant is the Divine Christ, the Angel of the Lord, whose apparitions of old “were prefaces to the Incarnation”—the Word, who was in the beginning, by whom all things were created, and who was made flesh. He is “the great God,” with St. Paul; the “true God,” with St. John; the “only Lord God,” with St. Jude. Scripture abounds in proofs of His Godhead. To the full meaning of these titles, as expressed by other texts in equivalent terms, the early Church’s belief in Christ’s Divinity, and the writings of the ante-Nicene Fathers, Ignatius, Justin, Irenæus, Clement, and Origen, bear concurrent witness. The fact of a Trinity in the Godhead is fully and clearly stated in Scripture. The admission of the mystery is reconcilable with reason; but no one can explain the secrets of the Divine nature, and it is only rational that, on such a subject, we should submit to the teaching of revelation. “All dispute about essence, and persons, and natures, and all the terms whereby either the Scriptures express themselves in this point, or the Church excludes the importunities of heresies from the true sense of the Christian faith, improves no man’s understanding an inch in this mystery. The service it does, is to teach men the language of the Church, by distinguishing that sense of several sayings which is, and that which is not, consistent with the faith. And if any man hereupon proceed, by discourse upon the nature of the subject, to infer what is and what is not such, his understanding is unsufferable.”[383]

IV. The method of the covenant is gracious. All its provisions depend entirely upon the grace of Christ. But salvation is not through any Divine predestination of the will of man. God determines not what the moral acts of His creatures shall be in themselves, but only the practical results of them. The soul is free from necessity, though not from bondage; and the doctrine of the predetermination of the human will is not the root but the rooting up of freedom and of Christianity. Nothing formally determines the will of man, but his own act. Predestination to the enjoyment of grace is absolute, but predestination to the enjoyment of glory is conditional, and has respect to character. The end to which God predestinates is not the end for which He predestinates. Grace is the reward of the right use of grace. Upon this entire subject, the tradition of the Church runs counter to Predestinarianism, to Arminianism, and to Pelagianism.[384]

Thorndike says, in reference to Calvinism: “It seems that God’s predestination must of force appoint salvation to them that are to be saved, in the first place; from thence proceeding to design the way and order by which the person designed to it may be induced of his own free choice to accept the means of it. This slight mistake,” he observes, “seems to have been the occasion of many horrible imaginations, which even Christian Divines have had, of God’s design from everlasting to create the most part of men on purpose to glorify Himself by condemning them to everlasting torments, though in consideration of the sins which they shall have done.” “The mistake is,” he remarks, “that the end of the creature by God’s appointment, is taken for God’s end, which though it be His end because He appointeth it for His creature, yet it is not any end that He seeks for Himself.” God, being of Himself sufficient for Himself, can have no end upon human beings. He is personally disinterested. Nothing accrues to Him, nothing is lost by Him; all the gain or loss is by the creature; and, having given a moral law to intelligent beings, He will abide by that law, and bestow happiness upon them accordingly.

Salvation is through the satisfaction of Christ, who, by His propitiatory sacrifice perfected in death, paid the ransom of human souls. He expiates our sin by bearing the punishment of it, and we are reconciled to God by the Gospel in consideration of Christ’s obedience. This is taught by the sacrifices according to the law, by the prophet Isaiah, and in the New Testament. Socinus is altogether in error, and the doctrine that Divine grace rests on a satisfaction made for guilt is the doctrine of the Catholic Church. Yet neither according to Scripture nor according to patristic teaching, are our sins imputable to Christ, or His sufferings imputable to us: the latter are but the meritorious causes of the Christian covenant, and the promises of the Gospel depend upon His active as well as His passive obedience. Yet though all this be true—though salvation is now actually conveyed only through the work of Christ—yet God might have reconciled man to Himself in some other way.[385]

Salvation is not secured by a decree of perseverance, but the saying of the schoolman is true—Deus neminem deserit, nisi desertus, God leaves no man that leaves not Him first; and, though the assurance of salvation is not included in the act of justifying faith, it follows as the consequence of it.[386]

Finally, with respect to the covenant of grace, salvation is not through obedience to the original law of God—for that is impossible—but through the fulfilment of evangelical precepts. The fulfilment, if not perfect, may be acceptable, for there are venial as well as mortal offences; and if, among men, friendship long exercised suffers not a man who stands upon his credit to break with his friend upon ordinary offences, we see the reason why God so often helps His ancient people in respect of that covenant, which they, for their parts, had made void and forfeited; and therefore how much more He obligeth Himself to pass by these failures and weaknesses which Christians endeavour to overcome, although they cannot fully do it.[387]

Thorndike describes not so much salvation itself as the means of salvation. He nowhere endorses the dogma of Trent which confounds justification with sanctification; neither does he clearly distinguish between these two blessings. In his writings much may be found upon justifying faith, little upon justification as a distinct theological idea; and what little may be discovered is by no means explicit.[388]

Such is a very condensed account of Thorndike’s scheme of salvation by grace. Yet enough is seen to show the theological student how closely this Anglican Divine in some points touches upon the creed of the Romish Church, how now and then he even crosses the line; and the fact is made still more clear by his distinctions between matters of precept and matters of counsel,—by his notions of Christian perfection,—by his stating that the backslider’s recovery of God’s grace is a work of labour and time,—by his doctrine of the efficacy of penance,—and by the position, that there is a sense in which the works of Christians may be regarded as satisfying justice with regard to sin, and as meriting heaven.[389]

What Thorndike advances respecting the laws of the Church must be reported with still more brevity. The Church is founded upon the duty of communicating in Divine offices, particularly in the sacrament of the Eucharist, wherein, with the elements, Christ Himself is present, not simply through the living faith of the recipient, but because of the true profession of Christianity in the Church; nevertheless, the invisible faithfulness of the heart, in making good or in resolving to make good the said profession, makes the receiving of it effectual to the spiritual eating and drinking of Christ’s body and blood. Which Eucharist also, according to the New Testament and the Fathers, Thorndike maintains, may be accounted a sacrifice, first as to the oblation of the bread and wine; secondly, as to the offering of prayer; thirdly, as to the consecration of the elements, whereby they become a propitiatory and impetratory offering; and fourthly, as to the presenting to God of the bodies and souls of the receivers. He argues for the baptism of infants, on the grounds, that there is no other cure for original sin; that the children of Christians are holy, and may be made disciples; and that the effect of circumcision under the law inferreth the effect of baptism under the Gospel. This third book also treats of penance, extreme unction, marriage, government, and, in particular, of the Papal supremacy, and of the Presbyterian and Independent schemes; of the days, places, forms, and subject matter of Divine service; of the state of souls after death; of prayer to saints, and image worship; of monachism, and the celibacy of the clergy; and, lastly, of the relation of the ecclesiastical and civil powers. In some cases this Divine draws a pretty broad distinction between what he holds as Catholic views and the views which are held by the Church of Rome; but in other cases the difference is so refined that it becomes almost imperceptible. No doubt Thorndike may, on technical grounds, be vindicated from the charge of Romanism proper; and it may be said that, in his defence of prayers for the dead, he follows Ussher; and that, in his doctrine respecting the Eucharist, he symbolizes with Cosin and with Bramhall, with Hammond and Taylor and Ken.[390] Between him and many clergymen of the Established Church in the present day a strong resemblance exists; but certainly, in the judgment of other theologians, whose opinions will be stated hereafter, and in the judgment of such as may be deemed their successors, the tendency of Thorndike’s teaching is decidedly towards Rome; and, whatever may be the distinction drawn between the Catholicism taught by him, and the Catholicism of the Council of Trent, that distinction, in some particulars, although comprehended by metaphysical Divines, is scarcely to be discerned by plain English understandings.

George Bull may be placed next to Herbert Thorndike. Bull was admitted into Exeter College, Oxford, two years before the imposition of the Engagement. That Act, in 1649, ejected him; in consequence of which he became a student in the house of a Presbyterian Rector. The Puritan influence in the rectory, however, became neutralized by the Rector’s son, through whose friendship the young student came to study Hooker, Hammond, Taylor, Grotius, and Episcopius. The father foresaw the result, and, looking at it from his own point of view, would often say, “My son will corrupt Mr. Bull.”[391]

Bull has not, like Thorndike, bequeathed any treatise on systematic Divinity in general, nor has he propounded views of the extreme kind, which the former has done in his Laws of the Church; but between Bull’s two great works and certain aspects of Thorndike’s teaching there is a considerable resemblance.

The first great work produced by him is his Harmonia Apostolica, published in 1670, in which he propounds his views upon justification. His general method is to examine the Scriptures in the light of patristic teaching; and, adopting the same principles of interpretation as Thorndike, he arrives at similar conclusions. He is quite as learned as the contemporary of his earlier days, and he is far more lucid and methodical in his mode of treatment; for he can be easily followed, and he can be clearly understood. Also, he is much more cautious in his statements, and he carefully strives to save himself from misapprehension. He attributes salvation entirely to Christ’s meritorious obedience, of which obedience Christ’s death was the consummation and completion. Bull maintains that this obedience satisfied Divine justice, that this alone is the efficacious cause of eternal life; and he constantly insists that no man can, without Divine grace, and the assistance of the Holy Spirit, as flowing from the precious side of the Crucified One, perform the conditions of the covenant.

He further distinctly states, as the result of a careful examination of Scripture, “that the word justification, in this subject, has the meaning of a judicial term, and signifies the act of God as a Judge, according to the merciful law of Christ, acquitting the accused, pronouncing him righteous, and admitting him to the reward of righteousness, that is, eternal life.”[392] But, though adopting the forensic view of justification, and thus moving in the same line as Martin Luther, Bull differs from the German Reformer in this very important respect—that, instead of taking law to mean law apart from the Gospel, he explains it to mean law as incorporated in the Gospel; for he says, “It must be ever observed, as an undeniable truth, that Christ, in His sermon, not only explained the moral law, but also laid it down as His own, and required its observance, assisted by the grace of the Gospel, from all Christians, as a condition of His covenant indispensably necessary.” It is this view of the law which lies at the foundation of Bull’s theory of justification. Consistently with it, he reduces his argument to this syllogistic form—“Whoever is acquitted by the law of Christ must necessarily fulfil that law; but by faith alone, without works, no one fulfils the law of Christ; therefore by faith alone, without works, no one is acquitted by the law of Christ.”[393]

Having arrived at such a conclusion from the study of the Epistle of St. James, then comes the pinch: how is such a conclusion to be reconciled with the teaching of St. Paul? The learned author, after hastily disposing of other methods of reconciliation, prepares for defending his own, by laying down the principle that St. Paul’s teaching is to be explained by St. James’ and not St. James’ by St. Paul’s; our critic believing, with Augustine, that St. James wrote after St. Paul—an assumption contradicted by modern Biblical criticism. Bull, then, asserts, that faith, to which justification “is attributed by St. Paul, is not to be understood as one single virtue, but denotes the whole condition of the Gospel covenant—that is, comprehends in one word all the works of Christian piety.” “Assuredly,” he adds, “it is clearer than light itself, that the faith to which St. Paul attributes justification is only that which worketh by love, which is the same as a new creature, which, in short, contains in itself the observance of the commandments of God.” In order to get over the great objection arising from the plain words of St. Paul, that “a man is justified by faith, without the deeds of the law,” this controversialist attempts to show, that the works which St. Paul excludes from justification are not all kinds of works, but works of a certain description only,—namely, works of the Mosaic law, and works of the natural law, works done in obedience to the Jewish ritual, and works done by the force of nature. Bull then proceeds to dwell at considerable length upon the Apostle’s argument from the universality of sin, and the weakness of the law; and, as the result, he presents two deductions—first, that the Apostle entirely excludes from justification only those works which are performed by the aid of the Mosaic, and of the natural law, without the grace of the Gospel; secondly, that the Apostle’s argument, so far from taking away from justification the necessity of good works, proves that the true righteousness of works is absolutely necessary to justification, and that the Gospel is the only efficacious method by which any man can be brought to practise such righteousness.[394]

The coincidence of Bull’s teaching with Thorndike’s, as to the grounds of faith, appears in the following passage:—

“God knows the secrets of my heart; so far am I from the itch of originality in theological doctrines, ... that whatever are sanctioned by the consent of Catholic Fathers and ancient Bishops, though my own small ability attain not to them, yet I will embrace them with all reverence. In truth I had already learned, by no few experiments, in writing my Harmony, while yet a young man, what now in my mature age I am most thoroughly persuaded of, that no one can contradict Catholic consent, however he may seem to be countenanced for a while by some passages of Scripture wrongly understood, and by the illusions of unreal arguments, without being found in the end to have contradicted both Scripture and sound reason. I daily deplore and sigh over the unbridled license of prophesying which obtained for some years in this our England, ... under the tyranny of what some considered a wretched necessity. In a word, my hearty desire is this, Let the ancient customs and doctrines remain in force.”[395]

The publication of the Harmonia Apostolica occasioned much controversy. Answers appeared, written by Charles Gataker, son of Thomas Gataker, one of the Westminster Divines; by Joseph Truman,—who, though refusing to conform as a clergyman to the Established Church, remained in it as a lay communicant; by Dr. Thomas Tully, Principal of St. Edmund’s Hall, Oxford, a man of high reputation for learning and ability; and by John Tombes, the Anti-pædobaptist,—who, like Truman, declined ministerial conformity, but at least occasionally practised communion. Truman differed from Bull less than did the other combatants. Not to be wearisome, I would merely state, that his part in the dispute mainly turned upon the question, What is grace? Bull, in Truman’s estimation, regarding it as a bestowment of spiritual power, to be improved or misimproved, according to the will of the recipient; Truman, who in this respect anticipated the opinions of modern Calvinists, representing grace as a Divine influence securing the obedience of the will to the Gospel of Christ. He highly commended that sober sentiment of the great Bishop Sanderson, who, confessing his own disability to reconcile the consistency of grace and free-will in conversion, and being sensible that they must both be maintained, tells us, he ever held it “the more pious and safe way, to place the grace of God in the throne, where we think it should stand, and so to leave the will of man to shift for the maintenance of its own freedom, as well as it can, than to establish the power and liberty of free-will at its height, and then to be at a loss how to maintain the power and efficacy of God’s grace.”[396] Gataker, Tully, and Tombes were, what might be termed, High Calvinists. The first maintained, in opposition to the Author of the Harmonia, as it appears from his reply,—that remission of sins is entirely extraneous to justification, that there are conditions in the Gospel covenant which are not conditions of Gospel justification, that repentance is a condition of the Gospel joined by Christ with faith, but it is not a condition of justification, and that we are justified by the imputed righteousness of Christ.[397] Tully treated Bull as an innovator; and after alluding to Socinians and Papists, insinuated that he belonged to those, “who perfidiously serving the interests of one or other of these parties, shamelessly take to themselves the title of sons of the Church of England.”[398] Tully contended for justification by faith alone; and, injudiciously adding to the Scriptural argument the authority of the Fathers, which he maintained to be in his favour, laid himself open to the attacks of his opponent, who criticised his citations, and turned against him testimonies from Irenæus, Origen, Cyprian, Hilary, Basil, and Ambrose. The judgment of the Church of England, and of the Reformed Churches on the Continent, also came under debate in this department of the controversy; Bull and his antagonists each claiming patristic witnesses on his own side. Also the doctrine of the saint’s final perseverance, and the limitation of the efficacy of the atonement to the elect, were points asserted by Tully and denied by Bull. Tombes’ book seems to have been of a more discursive kind than the rest; and to have aimed at answering not only the Harmonia, but also Aphorisms, written by Richard Baxter, whose name we find much mixed up in this controversy;—and by an alliteration very agreeable to the taste of that day, associated with the names of Bull and Bellarmine. Bull’s name is provocative of puns; and we find the author, in his preface to the Examen Censuræ, commenting on Tombes in the following manner, which shows the kind of attack to which Tombes had descended:—“He,” says our author, “need not fear the horns and stamping of the Bull (such is his wit, which foreigners will scarcely understand, Englishmen will smile at) since the Bull has long since learnt to despise all such barking animals.”[399] In an age when the amenities of literature were unknown, when Milton and Salmasius were abusing one another with a virulence which astonishes a modern reader, we cannot wonder at finding very bad passions manifested in the field of theological controversy. Bull, doubtless, was a learned and pious man, but his polemical writings show that he was deeply imbued with the violent polemical spirit of the times; yet, violent as may be the spirit of controversy in the modern Church, where can we find anything so fierce, so truly savage, as Tertullian’s attack on Marcion, at the opening of the first Book?