“Now, sir,” he continued, with regard to disestablishment, “I myself am much opposed to it, because I am in favour of what is called the union between Church and State. What I understand by the union of Church and State is an arrangement which renders the State religious by investing authority with the highest sanctions that can influence the sentiments, the convictions, and consequently the conduct of the subject; while, on the other hand, that union renders the Church—using that epithet in its noblest and purest sense—political. That is to say, it blends civil authority with ecclesiastical influence; it defines and defends the rights of the laity, and prevents the Church from subsiding into a sacerdotal corporation. If you divest the State of this connection, it appears to me that you necessarily reduce both the quantity and the quality of its duties. The State will still be the protector of our persons and our property, and no doubt these are most important duties for the State to perform. But there are duties in a community which rather excite a spirit of criticism than a sentiment of enthusiasm and veneration. All, or most of the higher functions of Government—take education, for example, the formation of the character of the people, and consequently the guidance of their future conduct—depart from the State and become the appanage of religious societies, of the religious organisations of the country—you may call them the various Churches, if you please—when they are established on what are called independent principles.”

After welcoming the fact of a religious revival, he next continues:—

“When we have to decide whether we can dissociate the principle of religion from the State, it is well to remember that we are asked to relinquish an influence that is universal. We hear in these days a great deal of philosophy. Now, it is my happiness in life to be acquainted with eminent philosophers. They all agree in one thing. They will all tell you that, however brilliant may be the discoveries of physical science, however marvellous those demonstrations which attempt to penetrate the mysteries of the human mind, wonderful as may be these discoveries, greatly as they have contributed to the comfort and convenience of man, or confirmed his consciousness of the nobility of his nature—yet all those great philosophers agree in one thing—that in their investigations there is an inevitable term where they meet the insoluble, where all the most transcendent powers of intellect dissipate and disappear.[99] There commences the religious principle. It is universal, and it will assert its universal influence in the government of men. Now, I put this case before the House. We are asked to commence a great change.... When, therefore, we are called to the consideration of these circumstances, it is absolutely necessary that we should contemplate the possibility of our establishing a society in which there may be two powers, the political and the religious, and the religious may be the stronger.[100] Now I will take this case. Under ordinary circumstances, a Government performing those duties of police, to which it will be limited when the system has perfectly developed, the first step to which we are called upon to take to-night—such a Government, under ordinary circumstances, will be treated with decent respect. But a great public question, such as has before occurred in this country, and as must periodically occur in free and active communities—a great public question arises, which touches the very fundamental principles of our domestic tranquillity, or even the existence of the Empire; but the Government of the country, and the religious organisations of the country, take different views, and entertain different opinions on that subject. In all probability the Government of the country will be right. The Government in its secret councils is calm and impartial, is in possession of ample and accurate information, views every issue before it in reference to the interests of all classes, and takes, therefore, what is popularly called a comprehensive view. The religious organisation of the country acts in quite a different manner. It is not calm; it is not impartial; it is sincere, it is fervid, it is enthusiastic. Its information is limited and prejudiced. It does not view the question of the day in reference to the interests of all classes. It looks upon the question as something of so much importance—as something of such transcendent interest, not only for the earthly, but even for the future welfare of all her Majesty’s subjects—that it will allow no consideration to divert its mind and energy from the accomplishment of its object. It, therefore, necessarily takes what is commonly called a contracted view. But who can doubt what will be the result, when on a question which enlists and excites all the religious passions of the nation, the zeal of enthusiasm advocates one policy, and the calmness of philosophers and the experience of statesmen recommend another. The Government might be right, but the Government would not be able to enforce its policy, and the question might be decided in a way that might disturb a country or even destroy an empire. I know, sir, it may be said that though there may be some truth in this view abstractedly considered, yet it does not apply to the country in which we live, because ... we enjoy religious freedom ... and because only a portion of her Majesty’s subjects are in communion with the National Church. I draw a very different conclusion to that which I have supposed as the objection.... It is because there is an Established Church that we have achieved religious liberty and enjoy religious toleration; and without the union of the Church with the State, I do not see what security there would be either for religious liberty or toleration. No error could be greater than to suppose that the advantage of the Established Church is limited to those who are in communion with it. Take the case of the Roman Catholic priest. He will refuse—and in doing so he is quite justified, and is indeed bound to do so—he will, I say, refuse to perform the offices of the Church to any one not in communion with it. The same with the Dissenters. It is quite possible—it has happened, and might happen very frequently—that a Roman Catholic may be excommunicated by his Church, or a sectarian may be denounced and expelled by his congregation; but if that happens in this country, the individual in question who has been thus excommunicated, denounced, or expelled, is not a forlorn being. There is the Church, of which the Sovereign is the head, which does not acknowledge the principle of Dissent, and which does not refuse to that individual those religious rites which are his privilege and consolation.... Now, I cannot believe that the disendowment of the Church of England could occur without very great disturbances.... England cannot afford revolution. England has had her revolutions. It is indeed because she had revolutions about two hundred years ago, before other nations had their revolutions, that she gained her great start in wealth and empire. Now, sir, what have we gained by these revolutions? A period of nearly two hundred years of great serenity and the secured stability of the State. I attribute these happy characteristics of our history to the circumstance, that in this interval we did solve two of the finest and profoundest political problems. We accomplished complete personal, and, in time, complete political liberty, and combined them with order. We achieved complete religious liberty, and we united it with a national faith. These two immense exploits have won for this country regulated freedom and temperate religion.... Speaking now not as a partisan, I believe the Tory party, however it may at times have erred, has always been the friend of local government, and that the instinct of the nation made it feel that on local government political freedom depended.”[101]

“It is said,” he remarked three years afterwards, after commenting on the historical union between Church and State—“two originally independent powers,” and the fact that their alliance has prevented the spiritual power from “usurping upon the civil and establishing a sacerdotal society,” as well as the civil power from invading “the rights of the spiritual,” and from degrading its ministers into “salaried instruments of the Government.”—“It is said,” he continued, “that the existence of Nonconformity proves that the Church is a failure. I draw from these premises an exactly contrary conclusion; and I maintain that to have secured a national profession of faith with the unlimited enjoyment of private judgment in matters spiritual is ... one of the triumphs of civilisation.” Nonconformity he considered a misfortune, though it was a symptom of national freedom. With Nonconformists, however, he sympathised. It was with indifference that he warred.

Let me illustrate these points. In an earlier speech he addresses himself to prove that the Church is none the less truly national because millions of the nation are not in communion with it; and he analyses Nonconformity.

“Now, the history of English Dissent will always be a memorable chapter in the history of the country. It displays many of those virtues for which the English character is distinguished—earnestness, courage, devotion, conscience. But one thing is quite clear, that in the present day the causes which originally created Dissent no longer exist; while—which is of still more importance—there are now causes in existence opposed to the spread of Dissent. I will not refer to the fact that many—I believe the great majority—of the families of the descendants of the original Puritans and Presbyterians have merged in the Church of England itself; but no man can any longer conceal from himself that the tendency of this age is not that all creeds and Churches and consistories should combine—I do not say that, mind—but I do say that it is that they should cease hereafter from any internecine hostility; ... and therefore, so far as the spread of ... mere sincere religious Dissent is concerned, I hold that it is of a very limited character, and there is nothing in the existence of it which should prevent the Church of England from asserting her nationality. For observe, the same difficulties that are experienced by the Church are also experienced by the Dissenters, without the advantage which the Church possesses in her discipline, learning, and traditions.”

Part of these “difficulties” he considered in the later speech, above cited, where he holds that the existence of parties in the Church is a sign of vigour; but the other part, the growth of indifferentism among millions of the populace, he considers here, and he considers it as affording a great field for the Church if it be true to its great traditions and answers to the temper of the times and to the call of the summons. “... If, indeed, the Church of England were in the same state as the pagan religion was in the time of Constantine; if her altars were paling before the Divine splendour of inspired shrines, it might be well indeed for the Church and its ministers to consider the course that they should pursue; but nothing of the kind is the case. With the indifferentists you are dealing with millions of a people the most enthusiastic, though not the most excitable, in the world. And what awakes their enthusiasm?

“... The notes on the gamut of their feeling are few, but they are deep. Industry, Liberty, Religion, form the solemn scale. Industry, Liberty, Religion—that is the history of England.” He predicts a feeling of exaltation for religion similar to those enthusiasms for freedom and toil which have inspired the nation in recent periods, and he harps on the opportunity for a Church with a tradition of “the beauty of holiness.” “What a field for a corporation which is not merely a Church, but ... the Church of England; blending with a divine instruction the sentiment of patriotism, and announcing herself as the Church of the country;” which may realise its nationality by increasing her hold on the education[102] of the people, “though it is possible there may be fresh assaults and attacks upon the machinery by which the State has assisted the Church in that great effort;” by extending the Episcopate (which has happened); by developing the lay element in the administration of her temporal affairs; by fulfilling the right of visitation both by priest and parishioner, and maintaining those parochial privileges which are still inviolate both in town and country; by remedying the gross inequality of stipend (which remains to be done); by, so far as possible, relying on the Church itself, and not resorting to the Legislature.

With respect to indifferentism among the more enlightened classes, it is “agnosticism,” partly due to the scientific spirit on which I have touched; partly to that “higher criticism” which Germany originated, and which, it is clear, can only modify the views of an educated few. With the mild rationalism of “Essays and Reviews,” Disraeli dealt characteristically. He found them “at the best a second-hand medley of contradictory and discordant theories.” Thirty years earlier he had satirised those devout Christians who do not believe in Christianity. As in the march of Science he perceived nothing new, and held that it interpreted the imagery without sapping the foundations of belief, so with regard to the “Teutonic rebellion” against inspiration, he saw only repeated in another form, and with no more ability, the Celtic “insurrection” which distinguished the eighteenth century: both had their uses. “Man brings to the study of oracles more learning and more criticism than of yore; and it is well that it should be so.” Nay, the very development of the German theological school proves its ephemeral character.

“About a century ago” (he observed in 1861) “German theology, which was mystical, became by the law of reactions critical. There gradually arose a school of philosophical theologians which introduced a new system for the interpretation of Scripture. Accepting the sacred narrative without cavil, they explained all the supernatural incidents by natural causes. This system in time was called Rationalism.... But where now is German Rationalism, and what are its results? They are erased from the intellectual tablets of living opinion. A new school of German theology then arose, which, with profound learning and inexorable logic, proved that Rationalism was irrational, and successfully substituted for it a new scheme of scriptural interpretation called the mythical.[103] But if the mythical theologians triumphantly demonstrated ... that Rationalism was irrational, so the mythical system itself has already become a myth; and its most distinguished votaries, in that spirit of progress which, as we are told, is the characteristic of the nineteenth century, and which generally brings us back to old ideas, have now found an invincible solution of the mysteries of human existence in a revival of Pagan pantheism.”