as well as “increased sweetness, increased light, increased life.”  The other common charge of dilettanteism, brought by such opponents as Professor Huxley and Mr. Frederic Harrison, deserves hardly more consideration.  Arnold has made it sufficiently clear that he does not mean by culture “a smattering of Greek and Latin,” but a deepening and strengthening of our whole spiritual nature by all the means at our command.  No other ideal of the century is so satisfactory as this of Arnold’s.  The ideal of social democracy, as commonly followed, tends, as Arnold has pointed out, to exalt the average man, while culture exalts man at his best.  The scientific ideal, divorced from a general cultural aim, appeals “to a limited faculty and not to the whole man.”  The religious ideal, too exclusively cultivated, dwarfs the sense of beauty and is marked by narrowness.  Culture includes religion as its most valuable component, but goes beyond it.

The fact that Arnold, in his social as in his literary criticism, laid the chief stress upon the intellectual rather than the moral elements of culture, was due to his constant desire to adapt his thought to the condition of his age and nation.  The prevailing characteristics of the English people he believed to be energy and honesty.  These he contrasts with the chief characteristics of the Athenians, openness of mind and flexibility of intelligence.  As the best type of culture, that is, of perfected humanity, for the Englishman to emulate, he turns, therefore, to Greece in the time of Sophocles, Greece, to be sure, failed because of the lack of that very Hebraism which England possesses and to which she owes her strength.  But if to this strength of moral fiber could be added the openness of mind, flexibility of intelligence, and love of beauty which distinguished the Greeks in their best period, a truly great civilization would result.  That this ideal will in the end prevail, he has little doubt.  The strain of sadness, melancholy, and depression which appears in Arnold’s poetry is rigidly excluded from his prose.  Both despondency and violence are forbidden to the believer in culture.  “We go the way the human race is going,” he says at the close of Culture and Anarchy.

Arnold’s incursion into the field of religion has been looked upon by many as a mistake.  Religion is with most people a matter of closer interest and is less discussable than literary criticism. Literature and Dogma, aroused much antagonism on this account.  Moreover, it cannot be denied that Arnold was not well enough equipped in this field to prevent him from making a good many mistakes.  But that the upshot of his religious teaching is wholesome and edifying can hardly be denied.  Arnold’s spirit is a deeply religious one, and his purpose in his religious books was to save what was valuable in religion by separating it from what was non-essential.  He thought of himself always as a friend, not as an enemy, of religion.  The purpose of all his religious