The Church State has been unrealisable. England alone has realised the State Church. The former has been impossible in the West, owing to the Aryan genius for State development, and especially to the national instinct of the Anglo-Saxon family. With the British spirit a cosmopolitan religion is incompatible. No nation ambitious of being a world-power can revert to Theocracy. It is not feasible under such conditions. The latter, however, the Anglican Church, has reconciled these two concepts of opposite origins, the Oriental idea of a “Church,” and the Occidental idea of the State. For it is not only a religious, but a national and a social tradition. This, I take it, was Disraeli’s attitude. By temperament he was theocratic. He believed in the original spirituality of his race; but he also believed in the great destiny of the nation to which he belonged, and in her Church he descried the naturalised power of Semitic ideas, the only form in which they could become nationally operative, the sole political means in a political country of sanctifying the secular. “The Church,” he once said, “is one of the few great things left.” The Church ever found him a wise and enthusiastic supporter. The fact is, as he put it in a speech of 1860, “the Church is a part of England.” Nor would he ever allow that mere differences of opinion negatived her comprehensiveness. She was still Anglican. What he recoiled from was the hard-and-fast narrowness of Puritanism, the fiercer fanaticisms of which, he always maintained, had undone Ireland. Sectarianism is not strength, for strength resides in national discipline. He regarded a “national Church” as the best pledge for religious liberty to even those outside her communion, as a national refuge from bigotry and a national rampart against priestcraft.