Selections from the Prose Works of Matthew Arnold by Matthew Arnold

Chapter 3 SOCIAL AND POLITICAL STUDIES

Word Count: 31956 | Released on: 01/12/2017

S AND LI

as curiosity; it is valued either out of sheer vanity and ignorance or else as an engine of social and class distinction, separating its holder, like a badge or title, from other people who have not got it. No serious man would call this culture, or attach any v

of praise. For as there is a curiosity about intellectual matters which is futile, and merely a disease, so there is certainly a curiosity,-a desire after the things of the mind simply for their own sakes and for the pleasure of seeing them as they are,-which is, in an intelligent being, natural and laudable. Nay, and the very desire to see things as they are, implies a balance and regulation of mind which is not often attained without fruitful effort, and which is the very opposite of the blind and diseased impulse of mind which is what we mean to blame when we blame curiosity. Montesquieu says: "The first motive which ought to impel us to study is the desire to augment the excellence of our nature, and to render an intelligent being yet more intelligent."[391] This is the true ground to assign for the genuine scientific passion, however manifested, and for culture, viewed simply as a fruit of this passion; and it is a worthy ground, even though we let the term curiosity stand to describe it. But there is of culture another view, in which not solely the scientific passion, the sheer des

turities of this, for a basis of action; what distinguishes culture is, that it is possessed by the scientific passion as well as by the passion of doing good; that it demands worthy notions of reason and the will of God, and does not readily suffer its own crude conceptions to substitute themselves for them. And knowing that no action or instit

Where was the hope of making reason and the will of God prevail among people who had a routine which they had christened reason and the will of God, in which they were inextricably bound, and beyond which they had no power of looking? But now, the iron force of adhesion to the old routine,-social, political, religious,-has wonderfully yielded; the iron force of exclusion of all which is new has wonderfully yielded. The danger now is, not that people should obstinately refuse to allow anything but their old routine to pass for reason and the will of God, but either that they should allow

, I say, culture is considered not merely as the endeavor to see and learn this, but as the endeavor, also, to make it prevail, the moral, social, and beneficent character of culture becomes manifest. The mere endeavor to see and learn the truth for our own personal satisfaction is indeed a commencement for making it prevail, a preparing the way for this,

the voices of human experience which have been heard upon it, of art, science, poetry, philosophy, history, as well as of religion, in order to give a greater fulness and certainty to its solution,-likewise reaches. Religion says: The kingdom of God is within you; and culture, in like manner, places human perfection in an internal condition, in the growth and predominance of our humanity proper, as distinguished from our animality. It places it in the ever-increasing efficacy and in the general harmonious expansion of those gifts of thought

al expansion. Perfection, as culture conceives it, is not possible while the individual remains isolated. The individual is required, under pain of being stunted and enfeebled in his own development if he disobeys, to carry others along with him in his march towards perfection, to be continually doing

,-is a harmonious expansion of all the powers which make the beauty and worth of human nature, and is not consistent with the over-

m, because here that mechanical character, which civilization tends to take everywhere, is shown in the most eminent degree. Indeed nearly all the characters of perfection, as culture teaches us to fix them, meet in this country with some powerful tendency which thwarts them and sets them at defiance. The idea of perfection as an inward condition of the mind and spirit is at variance with the mechanical and material civilization in esteem with us, and nowhere, as I have said, so much in esteem as with us. The idea of perfection as a general expansion of the human family is at variance with our strong individualism, our hatred of all limits to the unrestrained swing of the individual's personality, our maxim of "every man for himself." Above all, the idea of perfection as a harmonious

characters of perfection indisputably joined to them. I have before now noticed Mr. Roebuck's[397] stock argument for proving the greatness and happiness of England as she is, and for quite stopping the mouths of all gainsayers. Mr. Roebuck is never weary of reiterating this argument of his, so I do not know why I should be weary of noticing it. "May not every man in England say what he likes?"-Mr. Roebuck perpetually asks: and that, he thinks, is quite sufficient, and when every man may say what he likes, our aspirations ought to be satisfied. But the aspirations of culture, which is the study o

o excite love, interest, and admiration; and the outward proof of possessing greatness is that we excite love, interest, and admiration. If England were swallowed up by the sea to-morrow, which of the two, a hundred years hence, would most excite the love, interest, and admiration of mankind,-would most, therefore, show the evidences of having possessed greatness,-the England of the last twenty years, or the England of Elizabeth, of a

nd not only to say as a matter of words that we regard wealth as but machinery, but really to perceive and feel that it is so. If it were not for this purging effect wrought upon our minds by culture, the whole world, the future as well as the present, would inevitably belong to the Philistines. The people who believe most that our greatness and welfare are proved by our being very rich, and who most give their lives and thoughts to becoming rich, are just the very people whom we call Philistines. Culture says: "Consider these people, then, their way of life, their habits, their manners, the very tone

look beyond them! Why, one has heard people, fresh from reading certain articles of the Times on the Registrar-General's returns of marriages and births in this country, who would talk of our large English families in quite a solemn strain, as if t

plicitly:-"Eat and drink such an exact quantity as suits the constitution of thy body, in reference to the services of the mind."[399] But the point of view of culture, keeping the mark of human perfection simply and broadly in view, and not assigning to this perfection, as religion or utilitarianism assigns to it, a special and limited character, this point of view, I say, of culture is best given by these words of Epictetus: "It is a sign of[Greek: aphuia]," says he,-that is, of a nature not finely tempered,-"to give yourselves up to things which relate to the body; to make, for instance, a great fuss about exercise, a great fuss about eating, a great fuss about drinking, a great fuss about walking, a great fuss about riding. All these things ought to be done merely by the way: the formation of the spirit and character must be our real concern."[400] This is admirable; and, indeed, the Greek word[Greek: euphuia], a finely tempered nat

important manifestation of human nature than poetry, because it has worked on a broader scale for perfection, and with greater masses of men. But the idea of beauty and of a human nature perfect on all its sides, which is the dominant idea of poetry, is a true and invaluable idea, though it has not yet

re attempt, an attempt which for success needed the moral and religious fibre in humanity to be more braced and developed than it had yet been. But Greece did not err in having the idea of beauty, harmony, and complete human perfection, so present and paramount. It is impossible to have this idea too present and paramount; only, the moral fibre must be braced too. And we, because we have braced the moral fibre, are not on that account in

le in the world has the command to resist the devil, to overcome the wicked one, in the nearest and most obvious sense of those words, had such a pressing force and reality. And we have had our reward, not only in the great worldly prosperity which our obedience to this command has brought us, but also, and far more, in great inward peace and satisfaction. But to me few things are more pathetic than to see people, on the strength of the inward peace and satisfaction which their rudimentary efforts towards perfectio

language to judge it. Religion, with its instinct for perfection, supplies language to judge it, language, too, which is in our mouths every day. "Finally, be of one mind, united in feeling,"[404] says St. Peter. There is an ideal which judges the Puritan ideal: "The Dissidence of Dissent and the Protestantism of the Protestant religion!" And religious organizations like this are what people believe in, rest in, would give their lives for! Such, I say, is the wonderful virtue of even the beginnings of perfection, of having conquered even the plain faults of our animality, that the religious organization which has helped us to do it can seem to us something

They have been punished wherein they erred; but their ideal of beauty, of sweetness and light, and a human nature complete on all its sides, remains the true ideal of perfection still; just as the Puritan's ideal of perfection remains narrow and inadequate, although for what he did well he has been richly rewarded. Notwithstanding the mighty results of the Pilgrim Fathers' voyage, they and their standard of perfection are rightly judged when we figure to ourselves Shakespeare or Virgil,-souls in whom sweetness and light, and all that in human nature is most humane, were eminent,-accompanying them on their voyage, and think what intolerable company Shakespeare and Virgil would have found them! In the same way let us judge the religious organizations which we see a

ssing, as I have said, the most widespread effort which the human race has yet made after perfection,- is to be found in the state of our life and society with these in possession of it, and having been in possession of it I know not how many hundred years. We are all of us included in some religious organization or other; we all call ourselves, in the sublime and aspiring language of religion which I have before noticed, children of God. Children of God;-it is an immense pretension!-and how are we to justify it? By the works which we do, and the words which we speak. And the work which we collective children of God do, our grand centre of life, our city which we have builded for us to dwell in, is London! London, with its unutterable external hideousness, and with its internal canker of publice egestas, privatim opulentia,[406]-to use the words which Sallust puts into Cato's mouth about Rome,-unequalled in the world! The word, again, which we children of God speak, the voice which most hits our

of bodily strength and activity, or whether it is a political organization,-or whether it is a religious organization,-oppose with might and main the tendency to this or that political and religious organization, or to games and athletic exercises, or to wealth and industrialism, and try violently to stop it. But the flexibility which sweetness and light give, and which is one of the rewards of culture pursue

industrialism, readily allows that the future may derive benefit from it; but insists, at the same time, that the passing generations of industrialists,-forming, for the most part, the stout main body of Philistinism,-are sacrificed to it. In the same way, the result of all the games and sports which occupy the passing generation of boys and young men may be the establishment of a better and sounder physical type for the future to work with. Culture does not set itself against the games and sports; it congratulates the future, and hopes it will make a good use of its improved physical basis; but it points out that our passing generation of boys and young men is, meantime, sacrif

rawness, has been at the bottom of our attachment to so many beaten causes, of our opposition to so many triumphant movements. And the sentiment is true, and has never been wholly defeated, and has shown its power even in its defeat. We have not won our political battles, we have not carried our main points, we have not stopped our adversaries' advance, we have not marched victoriously with the modern world; but we have told silently upon the mind of the country, we have prepared currents of feeling which sap our adversaries'

ris nostri non pl

whose achievements fill Mr. Lowe[414] with such inexpressible admiration, and whose rule he was so horror-struck to see threatened. And where is this great force of Philistinism now? It is thrust into the second rank, it is become a power of yesterday, it has lost the future. A new power has suddenly appeared, a power which it is impossible yet to judge fully, but which is certainly a wholly different force from middle-class liberalism; different in its cardinal points of belief, different in its tendencies in every sphere. It loves and admires neither the legislation of middle-class Parliaments, nor the local self-government of middle-class vestries, nor the unrestricted competition of middle-class industrialists, nor the dissidence of middle-class Dissent and the Protestantism of middle-class Protestant religion. I am not

s liberalism. He complains with a sorrowful indignation of people who "appear to have no proper estimate of the value of the franchise"; he leads his disciples to believe-what the Englishman is always too ready to believe-that the having a vote, like the having a large family, or a large business, or large muscles, has in itself some edifying and perfecting effect upon human nature. Or else he cries out to the democracy,-"the men," as he calls them," upon whose shoulders the greatness of England rests,"-he cries out to them: "See what you have done! I look over this country and see the cities you have built, the railroads you have made, the manufactures you have produced, the cargoes which freight the ships of the greatest mercantile navy the world has ever seen! I see that you have converted by your labors what was once a wilderness, these islands, into a fruitful garden; I know that you have created this wealth, and are a nation whose name is a word of power throughout all the world." Why, this is just the very style of laudation with which Mr. Roebuck or Mr. Lowe debauches the minds of the middle classes, and makes such Philistines of them. It is the same fashion of teaching a man to value himself not on what he is, not on

ciples of Comte,[417]-one of them, Mr. Congreve,[418] is an old friend of mine, and I am glad to have an opportunity of publicly expressing my respect for his talents and character,-are among the friends of democracy who are for leading it in paths of this kind. Mr. Frederic Harrison is very hostile to culture, and from a natural enough motive; for culture is the eternal opponent of the two things which are the signal marks of Jacobinism,-its fierceness, and its addiction to an abstract system. Culture is always assigning to system-makers and systems a smaller sha

Apollo, as a current in the mind of the Roman people which set powerfully at that time towards a new worship of this kind, and away from the old run of Latin and Sabine religious ideas. In a similar way, culture directs our attention to the natural current there is in human affairs, and to its

erve as a sample of the kind of version I would recommend." We all recollect the famous verse in our translation: "Then Satan answered the Lord and said: 'Doth Job fear God for nought?'" Franklin makes this: "Does your Majesty imagine that Job's good conduct is the effect of mere personal attachment and affection?" I well remember how, when first I read that, I drew a deep breath of relief and said to myself: "After all, there is a stretch of humanity beyond Franklin's victorious good sense!" So, after hearing Bentham cried loudly up as the renovator of modern society, and Bentham's mind and id

asses on from any Rabbi. But Jacobinism loves a Rabbi; it does not want to pass on from its Rabbi in pursuit of a future and still unreached perfection; it wants its Rabbi and his ideas to stand for perfection, that they may with the more authority recast the world; and for Jacobinism, therefore, culture,-

st mortals alive!" Mr. Frederic Harrison wants to be doing business, and he complains that the man of culture stops him with a "turn for small fault-finding, love of selfish ease, and indecision in action." Of what use is culture, he asks, except for "a critic of new books or a professor of belles-lettres?"[425] Why, it is of use because, in presence of the fierce exaspe

broad basis, must have sweetness and light for as many as possible. Again and again I have insisted how those are the happy moments of humanity, how those are the marking epochs of a people's life, how those are the flowering times for literature and art and all the creative power of genius, when there is a national glow of life and thought, when the whole of society is in the fullest measure permeated by thought, sensible to beauty, intelligent and alive. Only it must be real thought and real beauty; real sweetness and real light. Plenty of people will try to give the masses, as they call them, an intellectual food prepared and adapted in the way they think proper for the actual condition of the masses. The ordinary popular literature is an example of th

emotion and enthusiasm which Abelard excited. Such were Lessing[427] and Herder[428] in Germany, at the end of the last century; and their services to Germany were in this way inestimably precious. Generations will pass, and literary monuments will accumulate, and works far more perfect than the works of Lessing and Herder will be produced in Germany; and yet the names of these two men will fill a German with a reverence and enthusiasm such as the names of the most gifted masters will hardly awaken. And why? Because they humanized knowledge; because they broadened the basis of life and intelligence; because they worked powerfully to diffuse sweetness and light, to make reason and the will of Go

AND HELLE

this preference is a main element in our nature and as we study it w

application. We may regard this energy driving at practice, this paramount sense of the obligation of duty, self-control, and work, this earnestness in going manfully with the best light we have, as one force. And we may regard the intelligence driving at those ideas which are, after all, the basis of right practice, the ardent sense for all the new and changing combinations of them which man's development brings with it, the indomitable impulse to know and adjust them perfectly, as another force. And these two forces we may regard as in some sense rivals,-rivals not by the

e might be partakers of the divine nature."[432] These are the words of a Hebrew apostle, but of Hellenism and Hebraism alike this is, I say, the aim. When the two are confronted, as they very often are confronted, it is nearly always with what I may call a rhetorical purpose; the speaker's whole design is to exalt and enthrone one of the two, and he uses the other only as a foil and to enable him the better to give effect to his purpose. Obviously, with us, it is usually Hellenism which is thus reduced to minister to the triumph of Hebraism. There is a sermon on Greece and the Greek spirit by a man never to be mentioned without interest and respect, Frederick Robertson,[433

e law a network of prescriptions to enwrap his whole life, to govern every moment of it, every impulse, every action. The Greek notion of felicity, on the other hand, is perfectly conveyed in these words of a great French moralist: "C'est le bonheur des hommes,"-when? when they abhor that which is evil?-no; when they exercise themselves in the law of the Lord day and night?-no; when they die daily?-no; when they walk about the New Jerusalem with palms in their hands?-no; but when they think aright, when their thought hits: "quand ils pensent juste." At the bottom of both the Greek and the Hebrew notion is the desire, native in man, for reason and the will of God, the feeling after the universal o

ith which it enveloped human life were evidently a motive-power not driving and searching enough to produce the result aimed at,-patient continuance in well-doing, self-conquest,- Christianity substituted for them boundless devotion to that inspiring and affecting pattern of self-conquest offered by Jesus Christ; and by the new motive-power, of which the essence was t

anding is a well-spring of life unto him that hath it."[439] And in the New Testament, again, Jesus Christ is a "light,"[440] and "truth makes us free."[441] It is true, Aristotle will undervalue knowing: "In what concerns virtue," says he, "three things are necessary-knowledge, deliberate will, and perseverance; but, whereas the two last are all-important, the first is a matter of little importance."[442] It is true that with the same impatience with which St. James enjoins a man to be not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work,[443] Epictetus[444] exhorts us to do what we have demonstrated to ourselves we ought to do; or he taunts us with futility, for being armed at all points to prove that lying is wrong, yet all the time continuing to lie. It is true, Plato, in words which are almost the words of the New Testament or the Imitation, calls life a learning to die.[445] But underneath the superficial agreement the fundamental divergence still

vested with a kind of a?rial ease, clearness, and radiancy; they are full of what we call sweetness and light. Difficulties are kept out of view, and the beauty and rationalness of the ideal have all our thoughts. "The best man is he who most tries to perfect himself, and the happiest man is he who most feels that he is perfecting himself,"[449]-this account of the matter by Socrates, the true Socrates of the Memorabilia, has something so simple, spontaneous, and unsophisticated about it, that it seems to fill us with clearness and hope when we hear it. But there is a saying which I have heard attributed to Mr. Carlyle about Socrates-a very happy saying, whether it is really Mr. Carlyle's or not,-which exc

impressive sermons, compare to a hideous hunchback seated on our shoulders, and which it is the main business of our lives to hate and oppose. The discipline of the Old Testament may be summed up as a discipline teaching us to abhor and flee from sin; the discipline of the New Testament, as a discipline teaching us to die to it. As Hellenism speaks of thinking clearly, seeing things in their essence and beauty, as a grand and precious feat for man to achieve, so Hebraism speaks of becoming conscious of

you, for we have heard that God is with you."[451] And the Hebraism which thus received and ruled a world all gone out of the way and altogether become unprofitable, was, and could not but be, the later, the more spiritual, the more attractive development of Hebraism. It was Christianity; that is to say, Hebraism aiming at self-conquest and rescue from the thrall of vile affections, not by obedience to the letter of a law, but by conformity to the image of a self-sacrificing example. To a world stricken with moral enervation Christianity offered its spectacle of an inspired self-sacrifice; to men who refused themselves nothing, it showed one who refused himself everything;-"my Saviour banished joy!"[452] says George Herbert. When the alma Venus, the life-giving and joy-giving power of nature, so fondly cherished by the pagan world, c

ipline which braces all man's moral powers, and founds for him an indispensable basis of character. And, therefore, it is justly said of the Jewish people, who were charged with setting powerfully forth that side of the divine order to which the words conscience and self-conquest point, that they were "entrusted with the oracles of God";[455] as it is justly said of Christianity, which followed Judaism and which set forth this side wi

,-august contributions, invaluable contributions; and each showing itself to us more august, more invaluable, more preponderant over the other, according to the moment in which we take them, and the relation in which we stand to them. The nations of our modern world, children of that immense and salutary movement which broke up the pagan world, inevitably stand to Hellenism in a relation which dwarfs it, and

more satisfying, than it is in the particular forms by which St. Paul, in the famous fifteenth chapter of the Epistle to the Corinthians, and Plato, in the Phaedo[457] endeavor to develop and establish it. Surely we cannot but feel, that the argumentation with which the Hebrew apostle goes about to expound this great idea is, after all, confused and inconclusive; and that the reasoning, draw

o,-Hebraizing child of the Renascence and offspring of its fervor, rather than its intelligence, as it undoubtedly was,-the subtle Hellenic leaven of the Renascence found its way, and that the exact respective parts, in the Reformation, of Hebraism and of Hellenism, are not easy to separate. But what we may with truth say is, that all which Protestantism was to itself clearly conscious of, all which it succeeded in clearly setting forth in words, had the characters of Hebraism rather than of Hellenism. The Reformation was strong, in that it was an earnest return to the Bible and to doing from the heart the will of God as there written. It was weak, in that it never consciously grasped or applied the central idea of the Renascence,-the Hellenic idea of pursuing, in all lines of activity, the law and science, to use Plato's words, of things as they really are. Whatever direct superiority, therefore, Protestantism had over Catholicism was a

awakening of Hellenism, that irresistible return of humanity to nature and to seeing things as they are, which in art, in literature, and in physics, produced such splendid fruits, had, like the anterior Hellenism of the pagan world, a side of moral weakness and of relaxation or insensibility of the moral fibre, which in Italy showed itself with

Atlantic, to the genius and history of the Hebrew people. Puritanism, which has been so great a power in the English nation, and in the strongest part of the English nation, was originally the reaction in the seventeenth century of the conscience and moral sense of our race, against the moral indifference and lax rule of conduct which in the sixteenth century came in with the Renascence. It was a reaction of Hebraism against Hellenism; and it powerfully manifested itself, as was natural, in a people with much of what we call a Hebraizing turn, with a signal affinity for the bent which, was the master-bent of Hebrew life. Eminently Indo-European by its humor, by the power it shows, through this gift, of imaginatively acknowledging the multiform aspects of the problem of life, and of thus getting itself unfixed from its own over-certainty, of smiling at its own

ritanism was no longer the central current of the world's progress, it was a side stream crossing the central current and checking it. The cross and the check may have been necessary and salutary, but that does not do away with the essential difference between the main stream of man's advance and a cross or side stream. For more than two hundred years the main stream of man's advance has moved towards knowing himself and the world, seeing things as they are, spontaneity of consciousness; the main impulse of a great part, and that the strongest part, of our nation has been towards strictness of conscience. They have made the secondary the principal at the wrong moment, and the principal they have at the wrong

LITY

nations which shall hear all these statutes and say: Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people!" The Hellenic race was pre?minent on other lines. Isocrates[460] could say of Athens: "Our city has left the rest of the world so far behind in philosophy and eloquence, that those educated by Athens have become the teachers of the rest of mankind; and so well has she done her part, that the name of Greeks seems no longer to stand for a race but to stand for intelligence itself, a

rder and for stability-are parts of it too. Then the power of beauty was so felt by the Italians that their art revived, as we know, the almost lost idea of beauty, and the serious and successful pursuit of it. Cardinal Antonelli,[461] speaking to me about the education of the common people in Rome, said that they were illiterate, indeed, but whoever mingled with them at any public show, and heard them pass judgment on the beauty or ugliness of what came before them,-"e brutto," "e bello,"-would find that their judgment agreed admirably, in general, with just what the most cultivated people would say. Even at the present time, then, the Ital

Voltaire shows all his acuteness in fixing on the gift to name. It is not the sort of gift which we expect to see named. The great gift of the age of Louis the Fourteenth to the world, says Voltaire, was this: l'esprit de société, the spirit of society, the social spirit. And another French writer, looking for the good points in the old French nobility, remarks that

, above all things, it is a promoter of equality. It is by the humanity of their manners that men are made equal. "A man thinks to show himself my equal," says Goethe, "by being grob,-that is to say, coarse and rude; he does not show himself my equal, he shows himself grob." But a community having humane manners is a community of equals, and in such a community great social inequalities have really no meaning, while they are at the same time a menace and an embarrassment to perfect ease of social intercourse. A community with the spirit of society is eminently, therefore, a community with the spirit of equality. A nation with a genius for society, like the French or the Athenians, is irresistibly drawn towards

ade partakers of well-being, true; but the ideal of well-being is not to be, on that account, lowered and coarsened. M. de Laveleye,[463] the political economist, who is a Belgian and a Protestant, and whose testimony, therefore, we may the more readily take about France, says that France, being the country of Europe where the soil is more divided than anywhere except in Switzerland and Norway, is at the same time the country where material well-being is most widely spread, where wealth has of late years increased most, and where population is least outrunning the limits, which, for the comfort and progress of the working classes themselves, seem necessary. This may go for a good deal. It supplies an answer to what Sir Erskine May[464] says about the bad effects of equality

ners,-everything is different. Whereas, with a French peasant, the most cultivated man may find himself in sympathy, may feel that he is talking to an equal. This is an experience which has been made a thousand times, and which may be made again any day. And it may be carried beyond the range of mere conversation, it may be extended to things like pleasures, recreations, eating and drinking, and so on. In general the pleasures, recreations, eating and drinking of English people, when once you get below that class which Mr

es, her checked prosperity, her disconnected units, and the rest of it. There is so much of the goodness and agreeableness of life there, and for so many. It is the secret of her having been able to attach so ardently to her the German and Protestant people of Alsace,[467] while we have been so little able to attach the Celtic and Catholic people of Ireland. France brings the Alsatians into a social system so full of the goodn

s that he attributes all this to equality. Equality, as we have seen, has brought France to a really admirable and enviable pitch of humanization in one important line. And this, the work of equality, is so

eed in France. It did not succeed, he says, because la France ne voulait pas de réforme morale- moral reform France would not have; and the Reformation was above all a moral movement. The sense in France for the power of conduct has not greatly deepened, I think, since. The sense for the power of intellect and knowledge has not been adequate either. The sense for beauty has not been adequate. Intelligence and beauty have been, in general, but so far reached, as they can be and are reached by men who, of the elements of perfect humanization, lay thorough hold upon one only,-the power of

aps he is bewildered by his data because he combines them ill. France has not exemplary disaster and ruin as the fruits of equality, and at the same time, and independently of this, an ex

is scrape about France. We have to see whether the considerations

ergy and honesty as its good characteristics. We have a strong sense for the chief power in the life and progress of man,-the power of conduct. So far we speak of the English people as a whole. Then we have a rich, refined, and splendid aristocracy. And we have, according to Mr. Charles Sumner's acute and true remark, a class of ge

ty. To such an observer our middle class divides itself into a serious portion and a gay or rowdy portion; both are a marvel to him. With the gay or rowdy portion we ne

we do, We've got the ships, we've got th

iècle newspaper, and whose letters were afterwards published in a volume, writes as follows. He had been attending some of the Moody and Sankey[470] meetings, and he says: "To understand the success of Messrs. Moody and Sankey, one must be familiar with English manners, one must know the mind-deadening influence of a narr

d,-as I have more than once said, and as I may more than once have occasion in future to say,-entered the prison of Puritanism, and had the key turned upon its spirit there for two hundred years.[471] They did not know, good and earnest people as they were, that to the building up of human life there belong all those other powers also,-the power of intellect and knowledge, the power of beauty, the power of socia

nal Gallery. It was, I suppose, the best collection at that time north of the Alps. It contained nine Raphaels, eleven Correggios, twenty-eight Titians. What became of that collection? The journals of the House of Commons will tell you. There you may see the Puritan Parliament disposing of this Whitehall or York House collection as follows: "Ordered, that all such pictures and statues there as are without any superstition, shall be forthwith sold.... Ordered, that all such pictures there as have the representation of the Second Person in the Trinity upon them, shall be forthwith burnt. Ordered, that all such pictures there as have the representation of the Virgin Ma

nd throughout the reply Milton's great joke is, that his adversary, who was anonymous, is a serving-man. "Finally, he winds up his text with much doubt and trepidation; for it may be his trenchers were not scraped, and that which never yet afforded corn of favor to his noddle-the salt-cellar-was not rubbed; and therefore, in this haste, easily granting that his ans

tten by his widow, we have all read with interest. "Lucy Hutchinson," says Mr. Goldwin Smith, "is painting what she thought a perfect Puritan would be; and her picture presents to us not a coarse, crop-eared, and snuffling fanatic, but a highly acco

hat to say against the truths they asserted concerning the mis-application of that ordinance to infants." Soon afterwards she expects her confinement, and communicates the cannoneer's doubts about p?dobaptism to her husband. The fatal cannoneer makes a breach in him too. "Then he bought and read all the eminent treatises on both sides, which at that time came thick from the presses, and still was cleared in the error of the p?dobaptists." Finally, Mrs. Hutchinson is confined. Then the governor "inv

What is its enemy? The instinct of self-preservation in humanity. Men make crude types and try to impose them, but to no purpose. "L'homme s'agite, Dieu le mene,"[477] says Bossuet. "There are many devices in a man's heart; nevertheless the counsel of the Eternal, that shall stand."[478] Those who offer us the Puritan type of life offer us a religion not true, the claims of intellect and knowledge not satisfied, the claim of beauty not satisfied, the claim of manners not satisfied. In its strong sense for conduct that life touches truth; but its other imperfections hinder it from employing even this sense aright. The type mastered our nation for a time. Then came the react

ts faults, he says: "I consider this multitude to be absolutely devoid, not only of political principles, but even of the most simple notions of good and evil. Certainly

nd this is always to be understood, in hearing or reading a Frenchman's praise of England. He envies our liberty, our public spirit, our trade, our stability. But there is always a reserve in his mind. He never means for a moment that he would like to change with us. Life seems to him so much better a thing in France for so many more people, that, i

aving signal energy and honesty, having a splendid aristocracy, having an exceptionally large class of gentlemen, we are yet so little civilized? How is it that our middle and lower classes, in spite of the individuals among them who are raised by happy gifts of natur

andeth";[482] easy, he means, to him who will use his mind simply and rationally, and not to make him think he can know what he cannot, or to maintain, per fas et nefas, a false thesis with which he fancies his interests to be bound up. And to him who will use his mind as the wise man recommends, surely it is easy to see that our shortcomings in civilization are due to our inequality; or, in other wo

ministering to mere pleasure and indulgence, remain. The energy and honesty of our race does not leave itself without witness in this class, and nowhere are there more conspicuous examples of individuals raised by happy gifts of nature far above their fellows and their circumstances. For distinction of all kinds this class has an esteem. Everything which succeeds they tend to welcome, to win over, to put on their side; genius may generally make, if it will, not bad terms for itself with them. But the total result of the class, its effect on society at large and on national progress, are what we must regard. And on the whole, with no necessary function to fulfil, never conversant with life as it really is, tempted, flattered, and spoiled from childhood to old age, our aristocratic class is inevitably materialized, and the more so the more the development of industry and ingenuity augments the means of luxury. Every one can see how bad is the action of such an aristocracy upon the class of newly enriched people, whose great danger is a materialistic ideal, ju

humanization comes, they will have fixed the standard of manners. The English simplicity, too, makes the best of the English aristocracy more frank and natural than the best of the like class anywhere else, and even the worst of them it makes free from the incredible fatuities and absurdities of the worst. Then the sense of conduct they share with their countrymen at large.

ratic and refined class. Not having all the dissipations and distractions of this class, they are much more seriously alive to the power of intellect and knowledge, to the power of beauty. The sense of conduct, too, meets with fewer trials in this class. To some extent, however, their contiguousness to the aristocratic class has now the effect of materializing them, as it does the class of newly enriched people. The most palpable action is on the

themselves-upon a defective type of religion, a narrow range of intellect and knowledge, a stunted sense of beauty, a low standard of manners. And the lower class see before them the aristocratic class, and its civilization, such as it is, even infinitely more out of their reach than out of that of the middle class; while the life of the middle class, with its unl

ss, in Scotland, is an example of the consequences. Compared with the same class even in England, the Scottish lower middle class is most visibly, to vary Mr. Charles Sumner's phrase, less well-bred, less careful in personal habits and in social conventions, less refined. Let any one who doubts it go, after issuing from the ar

evening of his days,-those journals, in the main a sort of social gazette of the aristocracy, are apparently not read by that class only which they most concern, but are read with great avidity by other classes also. And the common people, too, have undoubtedly, as Mr. Gladstone says, a wonderful preference for a lord. Yet our aristocracy, from the action upon it of the Wars of the Roses, the Tudors, and the political necessities of George the Third, is for the imagination a singularly modern and uninteresting one. Its splendor of station, its wealth, show, and luxury, is then what the other classes really admire in it; and this is not an elevating admirat

nd, and the stage is over. Ask yourselves if you do not sometimes feel in yourselves a sense, that in spite of the strenuous efforts for good of so many excellent persons amongst us, we begin somehow to flounder and to beat the air; that we seem to be finding ourselves stopped on this line of advanc

accept the middle class as it is, and to praise the nonconformists; while Conservatives tend to accept the upper class as it is, and to praise the aristocracy. And yet here we are at the conclusion, that whereas one of the great obstacles to our civilization is, as I have often said, British nonconformity, another mai

es of the French law, and is in every way preferable. But evidently these are not questions of practical politics. Just imagine Lord Hartington[487] going down to Glasgow, and meeting his Scotch Liberals there, and saying to them: "You are ill at ease, and you are calling for change, and very justly. But the cause of your being ill at ease is not what you suppose. The cause of your being ill at ease is the profound imperfectness of your social civilization. Your social civilization is, indeed, such as I forbear to characterize. But the remedy is not disestablishment. The remedy is social equality. Let me direct your attention to a reform in th

AND THE

e to Poems: 1853 (dated Fox How, Ambleside, Octobe

em~. Empedo

ior grade who, distinguishing themselves from philosophers on the one hand and from artists and craftsmen on the other, c

oetic

gnis, ll

r of April 2, 1853. The words quoted were not

teia (Agamemnon, Cho?phar?, and Eum

celyn, the Excursion~. Long narrative poems

edipus Tyrannus and Oedi

t most adequately in the essay On Translating Homer: "I think it will be found that the grand style arises in poetry when a noble nature, poetically gi

uripides. Merope was the subject of a lost tragedy by Euripides and of several modern plays, including one by Ma

A Greek historian

lts, Selections, Note 3, p. 177.[Transcriber

l that he wishes to, but unfor

s Decameron, 4t

s Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the Fifteent

Guizot~ (1787-1874), historian,

he Seven Sages of Greece. His favorite sayings were: "It is hard to be

historian. His Roman History (1827-32) is an epoch-making work. For h

id, XII,

CRITICISM AT T

view, November, 1864, in the Essays

ating Homer, ed.

, vol. 41. ~John Campbell Shairp~ (1819-85), Scottish critic and man of letters, was professor of poetry at O

s works, might be revived among us with advantage. To introduce all succeeding editions of Wordsworth, Mr. Shairp's notice might, it seems to me, excellently serve; it is written from the point of view of an admirer, nay, of a discipl

Wordsworth, ed. 1851, II, 15

unsuccessful play

to the second edition (18

July 23, 1637, a riot took place, in which the "fauld-stools," or folding stools, of the congregation were hurled a

Joubert, ed. 1850,

ict with the upholders of the French Revolution. Reflections on the Revolution in France

trongly opposed to the war with America and

's epitaph on Burke

um. XXI

glish statesman. Among other services he represented Engl

ench magazines devoted to literature, art, and general

gn Review~. Publishe

h politician, inherited valuable estates in Warwickshire. He was a str

rmer, conspicuous for his eloquence, honesty, and strong hostility to the go

Iphigenie auf Tau

ound through an emancipation from the craving for the gratif

ter of William III, and a stanch supporter of the English Constitution.

city, self-esteem, and virulence of language. See Heine, Selections, p. 120, [Transcriber's note: This is Footnote 144 in t

ts (1850) contain much violent denu

out 1860. In 1862, he published Unto this La

s of Mother Earth; hence

2, p. 117.[Transcriber's note: Th

ethe's Wilhelm Meister's Appre

an account of the author (1770-1846) and the book see Arnold's Stanzas in Memory of the Author of

all that has passed, to make here a final declaration of my sincere impenitence for having published them. Nay, I cannot forbear repeating yet once more, for his benefit and that of his readers, this sentence from my original remarks upon him; There is

me of this work is entitled The Bishop and the Philosopher (Macmillan's Magazine, January, 1863). As an example of the Bishop's cheap "arithmetical demonstrations" he describes him as presenting the case of Leviticus as follows: "'If three priests have to eat 264 pigeons a day, how many must each priest eat?'

e higher culture to attempt to inform the ignorant." Need I point out that

sées, ed. 1850, II

r of a Life of (Thomas) Arnold, 1844. In university politics and in religious

The quotation below is from Broken Lights (1864), p. 134. Her Religious Duty (1857), referred to

ésus (1863), here referred to, was begun in Syria and is filled with the atmosp

gian and man of letters. The work referred to is the Le

eface) on the Gospel.

ro's Att.

~. Coleridge's Confessions of

he sacraments as channels of the divine grace is ex opere operato, or dependent on the faith of the recipient

lle (1681) was an attempt to provide ecclesiastical authority with a rational basis. It is dominated by the convict

. Translated in Shelley's Hellas:

UDY OF

he English Poets, edited by T.H. Ward. Reprinted in Ess

osing paragraph of a short introduction contributed by Arnold

the second edition of t

rench critic, was looked upon by Arnold as in cer

bert it is applied to literature: "The end and aim of all literature, if one considers it attentively, is, in truth, nothing but that." It was much attacked, especially as ap

lections, p. 52.[Transcriber's note: This approximates to the sec

ench author, friend of Mlle. Scudér

and servil

ditor of the Jannet edition (1868-72) of

f Christ, Book I

nt religious poet in Old English

(1802-73). French dra

composed in the eleventh century. Taillefer was the surname of a bard and warrior of the eleventh century. The tradition concerning him is related by Wace, Roman de Rou,

valor conquered, and pleasant France, and the men of his lineage, and Charlema

ng since in Earth's s

dear land, their fat

4 (translated by Dr

l? but ye are without old age, and immortal. Was it that with men

in former days wast, as we hear,

grew I within;-they wailed."-

e, that your misery toucheth me not, neither doth the fla

our peace."-Paradis

V, part 2, I

et, V, ii

ise Lost,

id., I,

bid.,

oetics

ern France, from the southern French oc

is the author of the Tesoretto, a heptasyllabic Italian poem, and the prose Livres dou Trésor, a sort of enc

lfth century, author of numerous narrative poems dealing with legends o

stanzas in heroic verse, were imitated from Old French poetry. See

man poet, born in the end of the twelfth cent

n's Preface to

e English poem of ~John Gower~ (c. 13

nold.] From the Prioress's Tale, ed. Skeat, 1894, B. 1769

in 1431, thief and poet. His best-known poem

s a mark by courtesans. In Villon's ballad, a poor old creature of this class

bon temp

pauvres viei

bas, à c

g tas comm

feu de c

ées, tost

fusmes si

nd à maintz

heels, all in a heap like so many balls; by a little fire of hemp-stalks, soon lighted,

ssay of Dramat

ffect is made by Dryden in

Preface to

lementary to the Preface, 1815, an

e Works, ed. 1843, III, 117-18. Milton

n's Postscript to the Reader in

lines of The Hin

Horace, Book II, S

he Death of Rob

e in her sentimental connection with Burns, who c

Mr. Thomson, Oc

om The H

pistle: To a

the Unco' Quid, or t

pistle: To D

criber's note: The reference for this fo

m Winter:

Prometheus Unbound,

Ibid.,

URE AND

, vol. XII, in Discourses in America, Macmillan & Co., 1885. It was the most pop

. 495, Dialogues, ed. Jow

Plato's Theoetetus, 17

said was "majesty," which is therefore substituted here. S

ance and wisdom. ... And in the first place, he will honor studies which impress these q

Transcriber's note: This approximates to the section fol

printed in Science and Culture and

. [Transcriber's note: This approximates to the section fo

ur en France in Renan's Questio

Wolf~ (1759-1824), Germa

s Symposium, Dia

e year of Arnold's lecture, he resigned a position as teacher in Johns Hopki

ion. Descent of Man, Part III,

belonged to the very small Christian sect called after ~Robert Sandeman~, and his opinion with respect to the relation between his

es. VIII,

d, XXIV, 4

Luke I

acbeth,

y Jane Grey~ (1537-54) to her studies is to be f

ICH H

gazine, vol. VIII, August, 1863, in

arch 30, 1855. See Heine's

of Schiller and Goethe. It was characterized by a return to individualism, subjectivity, and the supernatural. Carlyle translated extrac

on, in Pictures of Travel, ed. 1891, L

place was not ~Hambur

an Romance, he speaks of a Philistine as one who "judged of Brunswick mum, by its utility." He adds: "Stray specimens of the Philistine nation are said to exist in our own Islands; but we have no name for them like the Germans." The term occurs also in Carlyle's essays on The State of German Literature, 1827, and Historic Survey of German Poetry, 1831. Arnold, however, has done most to establish the word in English usage. He applies it especially to members of the middle class

oi], in Cilicia, owing to the corruption of the Atti

tell's trial: "I always thought him a respectable man." "What do you mean by 'respectable'?" "He kept a gig." F

nts, Pictures of Tra

ections, Note 2, p. 42. [Transcriber's n

chap. IX, in Pictures of

ne in Wordsworth's Reso

th~. Ruler of The Holy

onclusion, in Pictures of

on has at last appeare

rench dramatist, for fifty years the best exp

. This was accomplished against the resistance of the Moderate Republicans, partly through the favor of his democratic theories with the mass of the French people. Heine was m

s of the second German Romantic school and constitute the Heidelberg group of writers. They were much interested in the German

cca, chap. X, in Pictures

nscriber's note: This approximates to the section follo

nlargeth the nations and

ook I, 135: "he stands th

n Pictures of Trave

, became the soul of the coalition against Napoleon, which, during the campaigns of 1813-14, was ke

in Pictures of Tra

ts, 1828, in Pictures of T

Measure for

: for translation see p. 142." in original. P

in the Hartz Mountains, Book of S

ublishe

tion of Ra-messu-pa-neter, the popul

wan Neck~. A mistress o

oli~. Mistress of Geoffr

Cruel~. King of C

poem, the Shahnama, or "Book of Kings," a complete

German theologian and chu

s, Romancero, Works,

astamare~. King of

A kind of pulse muc

ed from Rom

ca, chap. IX, in Pictures o

mancero,

etrarch's famous series of love

al see William A. Neilson's The Origins and Sources of the Court of Love

tion, Romance

e, Romancero, book

September 30, 1850. See Me

S AUR

a Magazine, II, 1-9, November, 1

lish philosopher and economist. On Libe

ristian devotional work, is usually ascribed to Thomas à Kempis (1380-

n earnest preacher of righteousness and his philosophy is eminently p

Empedocles on Etna, which he later suppressed for reasons which he states in the Preface to the Poems of 1853. See Selections

eiridion,

III, 10; inco

Is.

Mal.

John

John I

1 John

Matt.

2 Cor.

eiridion,

att. XV

t. XXII,

r. He published Selections from Plutarch's Live

nglish clergyman and headmaster of R

nd Profaneness of the English Stage, 1698, a sharp and efficacious attack on the Post-Restora

itations,

Emperor, A.D. 138-161, and

me current in

ie Arouet~. The name Voltaire was assumed in 1718 a

nscriber's note: This approximates to the section follo

e~ (1215-70), the leader

ative in politics. It devoted much space to pure criticism and schol

he 17th of March,

arraignment of the vices and follies of the

Juvenal, S

pired poet (to sing his prais

A.D. Aurelius proceeded against him, deploring the necessity of taking up arms against a tr

of Rome, 180-192 A.D. He w

izen, was put to death with

a, and one of the Apostolic Fathe

~, Ab Excessu

h ecclesiastical historian, author of th

Med.,

Ibid.,

esman and philosopher. His twelve so-called Dialogues

Med.,

Ibid.,

bid., V

Ibid.,

itian~. Roman Emperors, 14-37 A.D.,

Med.,

Ibid.,

bid., V

Ibid.,

att. XV

Med.,

Ibid.,

bid., V

Ibid.,

t that rejected the Apocalyps

only conceived to pertain to faith alone, such as was claimed b

que (?neid, VI, 314), which Arnold has

OF THE CELTS TO E

arch-July, 1866. In the Introduction to the book Arnold says: "The following remarks on the study of Celtic literature formed the substance of fo

dise Lost,

sso, I,

famous Greek poet of the

Arnold defines the w

ections, Note 2, p. 42. [Transcriber's n

ism, Selections, Note 2, p. 49.[Transcriber

statesman and man of letters, was author of the Idea of a Patriot

formerly preserved in Jesus College, Oxford, and now in the Bodleian. Nothing further is known of them. ~Ossian~, ~Ossin~, or ~Oisin~, was a legendary Irish third century

Black Book of C

he Gaelic or Erse language. This was followed by an epic Fingal and other poems. Their authenticity was early doubted and a controversy followed. They are now

man literature, and responsible for its sentimental excesses. Goethe mentions Ossian in connection with Homer in Wer

ished drama of Goethe's, of

The present quotation is from book II of the Red Book. A translation of the poem differing somewhat from

ay I complete my thi

m Euthana

, Cain~. Heroes of B

aradise Lost

e itself, all the weight of evidence tends to show, comes into our poetry from the Celts.[Arnold.] A different explanation is given by J. Schipper, A History of English Versification, Oxford, 1910: "End-rhyme or

gion, Math the Son of Mat

n, Kilhwch and

Peredur the Son

Geraint the Son

rdenberg~ (1772-1801), sometimes called the "Proph

ctions, Note 4, p. 224. [Transcriber's no

melodisch rauschen; wildfremde Wunderblumen schauen ihn an mit ihren bunten sehnsüchtigen Augen; unsichtbare Lippen küssen seine Wangen mit neckender Z?rtlichkeit; hohe Pilze, wie goldne Glocken, wachsen klingend empor am Fusse der B?ume"; and so on. Now that stroke of the hohe Pilze, the great funguses, would have been impossible to the

eland, slightly altered: "In these compositions we feel a mysterious depth of meaning, a marvellous union with nature, especially with the realm of plants and stones. The reader seems to be in an enchanted forest; he hears subterranean springs and streams rustling melodiously and his own n

's Tale, IV,

per referred to in a similar connection in the essay on Maurice

ssay on Maurice de Guérin, is from Sénancour's Obermann, letter 11. Fo

e's Iliad,

: "The band of heroes covered the pleasant b

of the line gives[Greek: hekeito, mega]: "A

he Ode to a

at is, D

he Ode to a

il, Eclogu

and the tallest poppies, she joins with them th

ll gather quinces, white with

Night's Dream,

nt of Venice

r Night's Drea

nt of Venice

RGE

vant~, née ~Dupin~ (1804-76), was the most prolific woman writer of France. The pseudonym ~George Sand~ was a combination of George

George Sand's f

the ~Creuse~ are its chief rivers. ~Vierzon, Chateauroux, Le Chatre~, and ~Ste.-Sévère~ are towns of the province. ~Le Puy~ is in the neighboring d

of novels in which the pastoral elem

the Creuse (see Jeanne, Prologue). ~Touix Ste.-Croix~ is a ruined Gallic town (J

ing 183 charts of the various districts of France, publi

the patache, or rustic carriage, see Geo

es~. An inf

ge~. See, for example, t

d's friendship for the com

elet~ (1798-1874)

eorge Sand died at N

d'un Voyageur, September

42-44) is George San

~. Characters in the novels Maup

uprat, Fran?ois le Champi~. Publ

, poet and essayist. See his Ess

dre~. Publis

Celts, Selections, Note 1, p. 182.[Transcribe

esthetic romance (18

e dangers and pains of an ill-assorted marriage." ~Lélia~ (1833) was

Lélia, ch

h is George Sand in man's disguise, sets

Jacques,

tres d'un Voya

à Rollinat, S

, the younger (1497-

a Mare au Di

The Author

bid., c

ions et Souvenirs,

Ibid.,

Lines Composed a few M

ressions et So

Ibid.,

Transcriber's note: This approximates to the section fol

apostle of the "realistic" or "naturalistic" school. L'As

'un Voyageur, Februa

Belgian economist. He was especially interested in

'un Voyageur, Decemb

December 21,

February 7,

ance in Peace and War (1876), by ~Philip Gilber

's designations for the aristocratic, middle, and

-Lacour~ (1827-96), French

ections, Note 4, p. 44. [Transcriber's n

'un Voyageur, Februa

ctat. For the English translation see Morning Prayer in the Episcopal Prayer

DSW

as Preface to The Poems of Wordsworth, chosen and edited by Ar

's home in the Lake District fr

the two-volume edition of Tennyson's poem

d friend~. A

ionnaire historique of F.X. de Feller (17

brilliant lawyer and wri

association of Ancient Greek co

Klopstock~ (1724-1803) w

Selections, Note 2, p. 271.[Transcriber's

Uhland~ (1787-1862)

88-1866) was the author of Li

Heinrich Heine, Sel

da Filicaja~ (1642-1707) are six odes

(1749-1803), Italian dramatist.

) was a poet and novelist,

1837), Italian poet. His writings are

ne~ (1639-99), t

u-Despréaux~ (1636-17

~ (1762-94), poet, auth

de Béranger~ (1780-

Prat de Lamartine~ (1790-1869),

de Musset~ (1810-57), poet

The Reclu

dise Lost,

empest, IV,

oetry, Selections, Note 1, p. 57.[Transcriber

, trans. Long, 1903, vol. I,

poet, critic, and novelist, and a leader

Recluse, l

neid, V

was the first editor of the Dictionary of National Biography. Arnold quotes f

ursion, I

bid., I

mortality from Recollec

ursion, I

pproximates to the section following the tex

ion of God as "the enduring power, not ourselves, which ma

rgh Review for November, 1814, no. 47. It was written by ~Francis Jeffrey, Lord Jeffrey~

acbeth,

dise Lost,

e Reclus

urns's A Bar

ct title is The

ESS AN

st lecture delivered by Arnold as Professor of Poetry at Oxford. Culture and Anarchy was first printed

n the Quarterly Review for January, 1866, vol. CXIX, p. 80. It finds fault with Sainte-Beuve's lack of conclusiveness, and describes him as having "spent his life in fit

t nous encourager aux sciences, prononcé le 15 Novembre, 17

: "On a lower range than the Imitation, and awakening in our nature chords less poetical and delicate, the Maxims of Bishop Wilson are, as a religious work, far more solid. To the most sincere ardor and unction, Bishop Wilson unites, in these Maxims, that downri

ristian will resolve at all times to sacrifice his inclinat

Sacra Privata, Noon Praye

agitation for repeal of the Corn Laws and other measures of

was president of the English Positivist Committee, 1880-1905. His

ections, Note 2, p. 37. [Transcriber's n

1 Tim.

Poor Richard's Almanac for December, 1742. The quotation

us, Encheirid

e Spider and the Bee the superiority of the ancient over the modern writers is thus summarized: "Instead of dirt and poison we have ra

during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to

on Conciliation with Ameri

Pet.,

Surrey, where are held the fam

s Catiline, ch

he middle classes and has been distinguished for its enterprise in many fields. Up to 1878 it was consistent

for the typical writer of the Daily Telegraph (see abov

ntified with the movement for manhood suffrage and the ballot, and was

freedom of the press in issuing criticisms on religious belief and sociological questions. In 1880 he became a Member of Parliament,

gia pro Vita Sua (1864) was a defense of his religious life and an account of the causes which led him fro

?neid,

ade other changes in representation to Parliament, thus transferring a larg

he Board of Education and Board of Trade. He was liberal, but opposed the Reform

political clubs of the French Revolution. Later the term ~Jacobin~ was

ante, Note

of thought attempts to base religion on the verifiable facts of existence, opposes devotion t

hip at Oxford in 1855, and devoted the remainder of h

e English school of Utilitarianism, which recognizes "the greatest happiness

(1809-61), German philo

the Bible is merely a bit of amusing burlesque in which six verses of the Book of Job are rewritten in the style of modern politics. According to Mr. William Temple Franklin the Bagatelles, of

and edited by John Bowring, in 1834, two years after Bentham's de

Civilization in England, a book which, though full of inaccuracies, h

lections, Note 2, p. 145. [Transcriber's

son's Culture: A Dialogue, but an earlier essay in the Fortnightly Review for M

a scholastic philosopher and a leader

are the epoch-making critical work, Laoko?n (1766), and the drama Minna van Barnhelm (1767). His

iter, was a pioneer of the Romantic Movement. He championed adherence to the national t

gustine, XIII, 18, 22, Ever

M AND H

rbarians, Philistines, and Populace." For the correction of this imperfection he pleads for "some public recognition and establishment of our best self, or right reason." In chapter III, he has shown how "our habi

gart, X, 12), Heine says: "All men are either Jews or Hellenes, men ascetic in their instincts, hostile to culture, spiritual fanatics, or men of

axim 452 reads: "Two things a Christian will never do-never go against the best light he has, this will prove his since

2 Pet.

lutionary ideas of the 1848 epoch and by the mental trouble which eventually resulted in his death. The sermon referred to seems to be the first Advent Lecture on The Greek. Arnold objects to Robertson's rather facile summarizing. Four ch

12-144. [Transcriber's note: This section begins at

rov. XX

Ps. CX

Rom. I

Zech.

Prov.

4-9; 8-12; Luk

John V

?an Ethics, bk.

Jas.

tetus, bk. II, chap. XIX

rceive that he is always pursuing death and dying; and if this be so, and he has had the desire of death all his life long, why when his time comes should he repine at that which he has been a

2 Cor.

Nichomach?an Ethics,

82D, Dialog

emorabilia, bk. IV

), English divine and leader of the Hi

ech. VI

is an incorrect quotation from George Herbert'

ior sent

esh condemn'd

st in

Eph.

irst two bo

ee Rom.

ee Cor.

doctrine of immortality by narrating the last hours of Socrates a

stined to become of more common use amongst us as the movement which it denote

ndition of inequality between classes. This is reinforced by the English freedom of bequest, a freedom greater than in most of the Continental countries. The question of the advisability of altering the English law of bequest is a matter not of abstract right, but of expediency. That the maintenance o

an ardent advocate of Greek unity. The passage quoted oc

1850 until his death his activity was chiefly devoted to t

~. The Introduction t

tions, Note 2, p. 212. [Transcriber's no

sentences from his History of Democracy: "France has aimed at social equality. The fearful troubles through which she has passed have checked her prosp

[Transcriber's note: This is Footnote 340 in this e-text.] The

n statesman, was the most brilliant and u

g feeling against Prussian rule in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71. In Septembe

tions, Note 1, p. 195. [Transcriber's no

me. From it was derived the word jingoism. For the orig

ey~ (1840-1908), the famous American evangelists,

er's note: This approximates to the section following

Smith~. See N

asterion, Works, ed. 1

ns both in England and America. The passage quoted below is from an article entitled Falkland and the Puritans, pub

s wife Lucy, but not published until 1806, are remarkable both for the picture which they give of the man and th

aptism~. Inf