Anglo-Catholics, while upholding with reverence the three creeds of Christendom, did not maintain any particular doctrines as distinctive of their system. Neither did they, though their peculiarities were chiefly ecclesiastical, propound any special theory of Church and State. Under Queen Elizabeth they maintained theological opinions different from those which they upheld under Charles the First. At the former period they were Calvinists. Before the civil wars they became Arminians. Preaching upon the controversy was forbidden; and Bishop Morley, on being asked "what Arminians held," wittily replied, "the best bishoprics and deaneries in England!"[4]

Whereas in reference to doctrine there was change, in reference to ecclesiastical principles there was progress. The constitution of the Protestant Church of England being based on Acts of Parliament, and the supremacy of the Crown in all matters "touching spiritual or ecclesiastical jurisdiction"[5] being recognized as a fundamental principle of the Reformation—the dependence of the Church upon the civil power appeared as soon as the great ecclesiastical change took place. The Act of Uniformity in the first year of Elizabeth was passed by the lay Lords alone—all the Bishops who were present dissented—and the validity of the consecration of the first Protestant Archbishop had to be ratified by a parliamentary statute.[6]

Of the successive High Commissions—which formed the great spiritual tribunals of the land—the majority of the Commissioners were laymen.[7] The Anglo-Catholics of Elizabeth's reign were obliged to accept this state of things, and sometimes to bow before their royal mistress, as if she had been possessed of an absolute super-episcopal rule.[8] Yet gradually they shewed a jealousy of parliamentary interference, and rose in the assertion of their authority and the exercise of their power. Whitgift availed himself of the lofty spiritual prerogatives of the Crown to check the Commons in what he deemed their intrusive meddlings with spiritual affairs.[9] He strove to lift the Parliamentary yoke from the neck of the Church, and to place all ecclesiastical matters in the hands of Convocation. He preferred canons to statutes, and asked for the royal confirmation of the first rather than the second. But, after Whitgift and under the Stuarts, Church power made considerable advances. Anglo-Catholics, under the first James and the first Charles, took higher ground than did their fathers. Their dislike of Parliaments went beyond what Whitgift had dared to manifest. The doctrine of the divine origin of Episcopacy, which was propounded by Bancroft, when Whitgift's chaplain, probably at Whitgift's suggestion, certainly with his concurrence—though it startled some English Protestants as a novelty, and roused the anger of a Puritan privy councillor jealous of the Queen's supremacy,[10] became a current belief of the Stuart Anglicans. At the same time the power of Convocation was widely stretched, as will be seen in the business of the famous canons of 1640. The encroachments of the High Commission upon the jurisdiction of the Civil Courts, and the liberties of the subject, produced complaints in everybody's mouth, and served, as much as anything, to bring on the great catastrophe. What is now indicated in a few words will receive proof and illustration hereafter.

Looking at changes in the doctrine and at progress in the policy of Anglo-Catholics, perhaps, on the whole, the persons intended by that denomination may be best described as distinguished by certain principles or sentiments, rather than by any organic scheme of dogma or polity. They formed a school of thought which bowed to the decisions of the past, craved Catholic unity, elevated the episcopal office, exalted Church authority, suspected individual opinion, gave prominence to social Christianity, delighted in ceremonial worship and symbolism, attached great importance to order and uniformity, and sought the mysterious operations of divine grace through material channels. The Anglo-Catholic spirit in most respects, as might be expected, appears more shadowy and in less power amongst the Bishops connected with the Reformation than amongst those who succeeded.[11] Parker, Whitgift, and Laud represent stages of advancement in this point of view. But from the very foundation of the Reformed Church of England this spirit, in a measure, manifested itself, and in no respect, perhaps, so much as in reverence for early patristic teaching. No one can be surprised that such tendencies remained with many who withdrew allegiance from the Pope, and renounced the grosser corruptions of Rome. It is a notable fact that out of 9,400 ecclesiastics, at the accession of Elizabeth, less than 200 left their livings.[12] Many evaded the law under shelter of powerful patrons, or escaped through the remoteness and poverty of their cures. And it cannot be believed that, of those who positively conformed, all or nearly all became real Protestants.

The divines of this school, drawn towards the Fathers by their venerable antiquity, their sacramental tone and their reverence for the episcopate, did not miss in them doctrinal tendencies accordant with their own. Even the Calvinistic Anglican of an earlier period could turn to the pages of Augustine and of other Latin Fathers, and find there nourishment for belief in Predestination, and Salvation by faith. But the Arminian still more easily found his own ideas of Christianity in Chrysostom, Clement of Alexandria, and other Eastern oracles. The Greek Fathers were favourites with the Anglican party of the seventeenth century. Whether the study of that branch of literature was the cause or the effect of the Arminian tendencies of the day—whether a taste for the learning and rhetoric of the great writers of Byzantium and Alexandria paved the way for the adoption of their creed, or sympathies with that creed led to the opening of their long neglected folios, may admit of question. Certainly the formation of theological beliefs is always a subtle process, and is subject to so many influences that, in the absence of conclusive evidence, it is hazardous confidently to pronounce a judgment.

The fairest side of Stuart-Anglicanism presents itself in the writings of Dr. Donne, and Bishop Andrewes. In the first of these great preachers there is a strong "patristic leaven,"—a lofty enforcement of church claims, a deep reverence for virginity, and an inculcation of the doctrine of the Real presence—such as we notice in the writings of the Fathers before the schoolmen had crystallized the feeling of an earlier age into the hard dogma of Transubstantiation. But there are also in some of his quaint and beautiful sermons statements of Christian truth, resembling the theology of Augustine; and at the same time, from the very bent of his genius, he was led to illustrate practical duty in many edifying ways. As to Bishop Andrewes, his "Greek Devotions" present him as a man of great spirituality; and we are not surprised to learn that he spent five hours every day in prayer and meditation. The formality of method in his celebrated manual, the quaintness of his diction, and his artificial but ingenious arrangement of petition and praise are offensive to modern taste; and, it must be allowed, his catholic animus is betrayed every now and then, so as to shock Protestant sensibilities; yet there are Protestants who still use these Devotions, and find in them helps to communion with God, aids to self-examination, and impulses to a holy life. On turning to his sermons, we discover expressed in his sententious eloquence (which has been rather too much condemned for pedantry and alliteration) doctrinal statements respecting the Atonement and Justification by Faith, quite in harmony with evangelical opinions. Though not a Calvinist, he was free from Pelagian tincture. Andrewes, Donne and others, however, are not—any more than the Fathers—to be judged by extracts. A few passages do not accurately convey their pervading sentiments. Orthodox and evangelical in occasional statements of doctrine, still they are thoroughly sacramentarian and priestly in spirit. And, no doubt, their works, especially those of Andrewes, contributed in a great degree to foster that kind of religion which so much distressed, alarmed, and irritated the Puritans at the opening of the Civil War.

The admirable George Herbert, too, had strong Anglo-Catholic sympathies, on their poetical and devotional side. His hymns and prayers are in harmony with his holy quiet life, and may be compared to a strain of music such as he drew from his lute or viol, or to a deep-toned cathedral antiphony, in response to notes struck by an angel choir.

The type of character formed under such culture partook largely of a mediæval spirit. The saints of the Church were cherished models. The festivals of the Church were seasons for joy, its fasts for sorrow. The liturgy of the Church stereotyped the expressions of devotion, almost as much in its private as in its public exercise. The ministers of the Church were regarded more as priests than teachers, and their spiritual counsel and consolations were sought with a feeling, not foreign to that in which Romanists approach the confessional. The sacraments of the Church were received with awe, if not with trembling, as the mystic vehicles of salvation; and the whole History of the Church, its persecution and prosperity, its endurance and achievements, its conflicts and victories, were connected in the minds of such persons with the ancient edifices in which they worshipped. The cathedral and even many village choirs told them of "the glorious company of the Apostles," "the goodly fellowship of the prophets," and "the noble army of martyrs," and "the Holy Church throughout all the world." They loved to see those holy ones carved in stone and emblazoned in coloured glass. A dim religious light was in harmony with their grave and subdued temper. The lofty Gothic roof, the long-drawn aisle, the fretted vault, and the pavement solemnly echoing every footfall, had in their eyes a mysterious charm. The external, the visible, and the symbolic, more exalted their souls than anything abstract, argumentative, and doctrinal: yet, though their understanding and reason had little exercise, it must not be forgotten, that, through imagination and sensibility awakened by material objects, these worshippers might rise into the regions of the sublime and infinite, the eternal and divine.

Such religion existed in the reign of Charles I. amongst the dignitaries of the Church. Occupying prebendal houses in a Cathedral close, they found nourishment for their devotion in "the service of song," as they occupied the dark oak stalls of the Minster choir. It was also cherished in the Universities. Heads of houses, professors, and fellows carried much of the Anglican feeling with them, as they crossed the green quadrangle, to morning and evening prayer. Town rectors and rural incumbents would participate in the same influence. Devout women, in oriel-windowed closets, also would kneel down, under its inspiration, to repeat passages in the Prayer book, or in Bishop Andrewes' devotions. And some English noblemen, free from courtly vice, would embody the nobler principles of the system. Yet, probably, the larger number of religious people in England were of a different class.

The following extract from a letter, belonging to the early part of the year 1641, giving an account of the death of the Lady Barbara Viscountess Fielding, affords an idea of Anglican piety in the last hour of life, more vivid than any general description:—