It would be highly unwise in those who direct the counsels of the
Church of England to accept a practical disadvantage for the gain of a
greater simplicity and consistency of system. The true moral to be
deduced from the anomalies of ecclesiastical appeals seems to be, to
have as little to do with them as possible. The idea of seeking a
remedy for the perplexities of theology in judicial rulings, and the
rage for having recourse to law courts, are of recent date in our
controversies. They were revived among us as one of the results of the
violent panic caused by the Oxford movement, and of the inconsiderate
impatience of surprised ignorance which dictated extreme and forcible
measures; and as this is a kind of game at which, when once started,
both parties can play, the policy of setting the law in motion to
silence theological opponents has become a natural and favourite one.
But it may be some excuse for the legislators who, in 1833, in
constructing a new Court of Appeal, so completely forgot or underrated
the functions which it would be called to discharge in the decision of
momentous doctrinal questions, that at the time no one thought much of
carrying theological controversies to legal arbitrament. The experiment
is a natural one to have been made in times of strong and earnest
religious contention; but, now that it has had its course, it is not
difficult to see that it was a mistaken one. There seems something
almost ludicrously incongruous in bringing a theological question into
the atmosphere and within the technical handling of a law court, and in
submitting delicate and subtle attempts to grasp the mysteries of the
unseen and the infinite, of God and the soul, of grace and redemption,
to the hard logic and intentionally confined and limited view of
forensic debate. Theological truth, in the view of all who believe in
it, must always remain independent of a legal decision; and, therefore,
as regards any real settlement, a theological question must come out of