udinarian Churchmen, and in
popular estimation was the visible badge, the tangible embodiment of
their opinions.

The inclusiveness of the Reformed Church of England has never been
altogether one-sided. It has always contained within its limits many who
were bent on separating themselves by as wide an interval as possible
from the Church of Rome, and many on the other hand who were no less
anxious that the breach of unity should not be greater than was in any
way consistent with spiritual independence and necessary reforms. The
Reformation undoubtedly derived the greater part of its force and energy
from the former of these two parties; to the temperate counsels of the
latter it was indebted for being a movement of reform rather than of
revolution. Without the one, religious thought would scarcely have
released itself from the strong bonds of a traditional authority.
Without the other, it would have been in danger of losing hold on
Catholic belief, and of breaking its continuity with the past. Without
either one or the other, the English Church would not only have lost the
services of many excellent men, but would have been narrowed in range,
lowered in tone, lessened in numbers, character, and influence. To use
the terms of modern politics, it could neither have spared its
Conservatives, though some of them may have been unprogressive or
obstructionist, nor its Liberals, although the more advanced among them
were apt to be rash and revolutionary.

At the opening of the eighteenth century, all notions of a wider
comprehension in favour of persons who dissented in the direction of
Rome, rather than of Geneva or Glasgow, were utterly out of question.
One of the most strongly-marked features in the Churchmanship of the
time, was the uncompromising hostility which everywhere displayed itself
against Rome. This animosity was relieved by a mitigating influence in
one direction only. Churchmen in this country could not fail to feel
interest in the struggle for national independence in religious matters
which was being carried on among their neighbours and ancestral enemies
across the Channel. The Gallican Church was in the height of its fame,
adorned by names which added lustre to it wherever the Christian faith
was known. No Protestant, however uncompromising, could altogether
withhold his admiration from a Fenelon,[301] a Pascal,[302] or a
Bossuet. And all these three great men seemed more or less separated,
though in diff