A Second Letter to the Rev. William Maskell, M.A.: Some thoughts on the position of the Church of England, as to her dogmatic teaching

In Short

This work is a polemical letter written by a dedicated Anglican priest during the height of the Gorham controversy, a period when the Church of England faced intense scrutiny over its baptismal theology. The author seeks to persuade a former colleague—who has already abandoned the Anglican communion—that the Church remains a true, dogmatic branch of the Universal Church despite the perceived failings of secular courts. It serves as a historical record of the mid-Victorian struggle to reconcile traditional ecclesiastical authority with the rising influence of the British State.

The Story

The narrative begins with an expression of personal grief and theological concern. The author, a rural vicar, addresses a fellow clergyman who has recently left the Church of England for Roman Catholicism. The primary catalyst for this departure, and the core of the author’s argument, is the "Gorham judgment"—a controversial decision by the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council. This state-appointed court effectively ruled that a clergyman could hold views on baptismal regeneration at odds with traditional, high-church doctrine without being disqualified from ministry. The author’s friend sees this as proof that the Church of England is doctrinally bankrupt, lacking the "dogmatic teaching" necessary to be a legitimate branch of the Universal Church.

The author does not shy away from the gravity of the situation. He admits that the Church faces a crisis, but he rejects his friend's conclusion that this necessitates an exit. Instead, he mounts a rigorous legal and historical defense of the Church’s identity. He meticulously dissects the Privy Council’s reasoning, arguing that the secular judges were fundamentally incapable of understanding the theological complexities of the case. He posits that their judgment was not an official abandonment of doctrine by the Church itself, but rather an act of state interference that failed to grasp the true, historical, and Catholic nature of the English formularies.

Throughout the letter, the author insists that the Church of England is bound by the first four General Councils and the tradition of the early, undivided Church. He asserts that these foundational commitments remain in force unless the Church, through its own properly constituted synods or convocations, explicitly repeals them. Because the Church has never formally renounced its ancient dogmas, he argues that the current legal ambiguity does not represent a change in the Church's actual faith, but merely a failure of the state to recognize it.

As the argument progresses, the author shifts his focus from the past to the future. He acknowledges that the lack of internal discipline—including the loss of the ability to enforce confession or effectively govern the spiritual lives of parishioners—has weakened the Church’s influence. However, he remains defiant. He suggests that if the Church were to face an interdict or other profound trials, it would serve to "purge and purify" the faith, separating true believers from those who prioritize convenience over doctrine. He concludes by imploring his friend to return, painting a vision of a future battle where, despite the state's interference, the Church might reclaim its voice and stand "valiantly for the truth" of the creeds.

How It Unfolds

The opening appeal establishes the author’s sorrow over the recent departure of his correspondent, setting the stage for a defense of the Church of England’s ongoing legitimacy. He acknowledges his friend’s disillusionment while insisting that a formal exit is premature and misguided.

The critique of the court shifts to a technical analysis of the Gorham judgment, where the author highlights the inability of secular legal minds to grasp delicate theological distinctions. He argues that the court’s misunderstanding of the baptismal liturgy resulted in a decision that does not accurately reflect the Church’s dogmatic position.

The appeal to antiquity argues that the Church of England is tethered to the first four General Councils. The author maintains that this foundation remains intact because it was never formally repealed, regardless of what contemporary secular judges might suggest about church practice.

The call for ecclesiastical freedom addresses the necessity of restoring synods and convocations to ensure the Church speaks for itself. The author posits that only through such independent bodies can the Church effectively resist the "chains of the spirit of the day" and maintain its divine mandate.

The People

The central figures are the Author, a staunch, traditionalist Anglican vicar, and Mr. Maskell, a former colleague who has defected to the Roman Catholic Church. The Author is driven by a desire to hold the Church of England accountable to its ancient, Catholic roots; he fears that by leaving, Maskell is surrendering to a "worldly expediency" rather than enduring the trial of the present. Maskell, though largely heard through his own cited responses, represents the disillusioned intellectual who has concluded that the English Church lacks the definitive, dogmatic authority required for a true Christian witness.

Standing in the way of both men is the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, a body of secular judges who, in the author's eyes, are dangerously ignorant of spiritual matters. They represent the "state" which, by attempting to act as an arbiter of doctrine, inadvertently creates the very confusion that pushes men like Maskell toward departure. Finally, the figure of Mr. Gorham looms over the text as the subject of the legal dispute, representing the theological liberalism that the author views as an encroaching heresy that the Church must, but currently fails to, decisively condemn.

In Its Own Voice

Regarding the necessity of fighting for the faith despite current failures, the author writes:

“We dare not, for peace’ sake, or for the sake of a worldly expediency, ‘keep silence.’”

In an effort to define the Church’s relationship to its own history, he argues for the retention of ancient doctrine:

“Under such sanction then it is that we claim the Catholic teaching of the universal Church, and the teaching of the Church of England prior to the reformation as our dogmatic teaching still.”

Addressing his friend’s decision to abandon his ministry, he expresses his lingering hope:

“Alas! that it should be bitter now to say it, no man has fought more nobly in the ranks of the English Church: no man more distinctly or with less hesitating lips has enunciated her dogmatic teaching.”

What It's Really About

At its core, this book examines the tension between secular legal authority and ecclesiastical autonomy. It asks whether a national church can truly be a branch of the "Universal Church" if its doctrines are interpreted by state-appointed judges rather than by its own synods. The author explores the nature of dogmatic certainty, debating whether the silence or ambiguity of official documents (like the Articles of Religion) equates to a rejection of the faith, or merely a failure to enforce it. The work is a defense of the idea that an institution’s identity is found in its historical continuity and its adherence to the creeds, rather than in the momentary, flawed decisions of contemporary political or legal entities.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of Anglicanism, the Oxford Movement, or the complex interplay between religion and state power will find this a fascinating, if challenging, document. It captures the visceral anxiety of a time when the Church felt its very soul was being eroded by modern legalism. The writing is deeply earnest and, at times, rhythmically eloquent, mirroring the author’s own "hot heart" as he grapples with the potential dissolution of his spiritual home.

However, the reader should be prepared for the dense, nineteenth-century prose and the highly specific, sometimes arcane, theological and legal debates that defined the Gorham controversy. The author writes with the assumption that his audience is deeply familiar with the nuances of canon law, the history of the Reformation, and the specific ecclesiastical jargon of the 1850s. While he occasionally employs vivid, almost dramatic imagery—such as describing the state’s control as "green withs" or "threads of tow"—the text is primarily an academic and polemical exercise. It remains a poignant reminder of the human cost of theological schism, as a man tries to call a friend back to a battle he believes is far from lost.