Mr. Ward’s theological position was really a provisional one, though, at starting at least, he would not have allowed it.  He had no early or traditional attachment to the English Church, such as that which acted so strongly on the leaders of the movement:  but he found himself a member of it, and Mr. Newman had interpreted it to him.  He so accepted it, quite loyally and in earnest, as a point of departure.  But he proceeded at once to put “our Church” (as he called it) on its trial, in comparison with its own professions, and with the ideal standard of a Church which he had thought out for himself; and this rapidly led to grave consequences.  He accepted from authority which satisfied him both intellectually and morally the main scheme of Catholic theology, as the deepest and truest philosophy of religion, satisfying at once conscience and intellect.  The Catholic theology gave him, among other things, the idea and the notes of the Church; with these, in part at least, the English Church agreed; but in other respects, and these very serious ones, it differed widely; it seemed inconsistent and anomalous.  The English Church was separate and isolated from Christendom.  It was supposed to differ widely from other Churches in doctrine.  It admitted variety of opinion and teaching, even to the point of tolerating alleged heresy.  With such data as these, he entered on an investigation which ultimately came to the question whether the English Church could claim to be a part of the Church Catholic.  He postulated from the first, what he afterwards developed in the book in which his Anglican position culminated,—­the famous Ideal,—­the existence at some time or another of a Catholic Church which not only aimed at, but fulfilled all the conditions of a perfect Church in creed, communion, discipline, and life.  Of course the English and, as at starting he held, the Roman Church, fell far short of this perfection.  But at starting, the moral which he drew was, not to leave the English Church, but to do his best to raise it up to what it ought to be.  Whether he took in all the conditions of the problem, whether it was not far more complicated and difficult than he supposed, whether his knowledge of the facts of the case was accurate and adequate, whether he was always fair in his comparisons and judgments, and whether he did not overlook elements of the gravest importance in the inquiry; whether, in fact, save for certain strong and broad lines common to the whole historic Church, the reign of anomaly, inconsistency, difficulty did not extend much farther over the whole field of debate than he chose to admit:  all this is fairly open to question.  But within the limits which he laid down, and within which he confined his reasonings, he used his materials with skill and force; and even those who least agreed with him and were most sensible of the strong and hardly disguised bias which so greatly affected the value of his judgments, could not deny the frankness and the desire to be fair and