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Poetics Today
Donald D. Stone
English, CUNY
The power of intellect and science, the power of beauty, the power of social life
and manners, -these are what Greece so felt, and fixed, and may stand for. They
are great elements in our humanisation. The power of conduct is another great
element; and this was so felt and fixed by Israel that we can never with justice
refuse to permit Israel, in spite of all his shortcomings, to stand for it.
Arnold, "Equality," 1878
Abstract Matthew Arnold in Culture and Anarchy describes Hebraism and Hellenism
as the "two points of influence [between which] moves our world." Arnold was not
speaking as an expert in Judeo-Christian or Greek studies; he used the terms prag-
matically, flexibly, to denote both a dual historical heritage and two complementary
states of being (strictness of conscience and spontaneity of consciousness, respectively) that
had practical bearing in a newly industrial and democratic world. An educator by
profession, and one deeply influenced by what he perceived as France's superiority
in educational and social matters, Arnold initially argued on behalf of the Hellenic,
or critical, spirit: the ability to see things freely and objectively, without religious
or political bias. But he never divorced the Hellenic stress on knowing from the
Hebraic emphasis on conduct. As a disciple of Socrates, he invoked that master's
belief in the "interdependence of virtue and knowledge."
Poetics Today 19:2 (Summer 1998) Copyright ? 1998 by the Porter Institute for Poetics and
Semiotics.
flattering comment, made two years earlier, that he "was the only living
Englishman who had become a classic in his own lifetime," in part through
his facility in "launching phrases" (1895, 2:219, 269). From less friendly
quarters, Arnold's predilection for such quotable phrases and terms as
"sweetness and light," "Philistinism," and "saving remnant" (the latter
phrase proved especially popular in America) has been derided as a Victo-
rian equivalent of the modern taste for sound bites-"scrupulously empty
phrases," in J. Hillis Miller's view, that serve only to keep "the void open
after the disappearance of God" (1965 [1963]: 265). To admirers such as
John Holloway or Steven Marcus, however, these phrases are admirable
stylistic devices, inculcating "value frames" in the reader (Holloway 1965
[1953]: 217). These "handy and detachable bits of phraseology are memo-
rable," Marcus claims, "not merely by virtue of their ingenuity but also
because they refer to and are part of spirited and significant argumentative
discussions that have a resonance beyond their original historical context
and still retain some connections with matters of issue today" (1994: 165).
For Arnold these rhetorical terms were pragmatic tools assembled to goad
the English public into facing up to major social problems.
Of all these terms, few have proved more influential-or more diffi-
cult to define--than the ones Arnold employed in Culture and Anarchy to
describe the "two points of influence [between which] moves our world":
"Hebraism and Hellenism" (1960-77, 5: 163-64). Arnold was not speaking
as an expert in Judeo-Christian or Greek studies; he used the terms prag-
matically, flexibly, loosely, to denote both a dual historical heritage and
two complementary states of being that had practical bearing in a newly
industrial and democratic world. Differing with those who promoted one
of these values at the expense of the other, Arnold argued that "the final
aim of both Hebraism and Hellenism is . . . no doubt the same: man's
perfection or salvation" (ibid., 5:164). But, he noted, whereas Hebraism,
with its concern for inward rectitude, requires an obedience on the part
of the individual that might lead to an unquestioning acceptance of the
status quo, Hellenism prompts a counterimpulse: the desire to have an ob-
jective grasp of reality that might very well lead to a questioning of the
status quo. As a supporter of educational and other social reforms, Arnold
felt the practical need to achieve an adjustment between the two, an ad-
justment that would strengthen England's ability to meet the challenges
of a rapidly changing world. To his mother, Arnold claimed that the dis-
tinction he had made between Hebraism and Hellenism-between "strict-
ness of conscience" and "spontaneity of consciousness" (ibid., 5:165)- was
one "on which more and more will turn, and on dealing wisely with it
everything depends" (1895, 2:37). And to his good friend Louisa, Lady
for conduct and duty, but one also needed a Hellenic or "critical" outlook.
The function of criticism, he notes (in perhaps the most widely quoted of
his phrases), is to obey "an instinct prompting it to try to know the best
that is known and thought in the world, irrespectively of practice, politics,
and everything of the kind" (ibid., 3:268)-an instinct that Arnold de-
fines as being conspicuously Hellenic. But opposition to such thinking-
a thinking that would call for inevitable changes in English institutions
and tempers--came from the newly powerful middle class, "drugged with
business, ... its sense blunted for any stimulus besides, except religion; ...
a religion, narrow, unintelligent, repulsive" (ibid., 5:19). Thus, Arnold felt
obliged to "dissolve" the authority of a popular but repressive form of reli-
gion (latter-day Puritanism), while also arguing the pragmatic value of
religion in upholding standards of conduct. To understand Arnold's seem-
ingly ambivalent handling of the Hebraism-Hellenism distinction, one
must know something about his personal background, and one should
have a sense of England's historical situation, as he saw it, in the middle
third of the nineteenth century. It is also instructive to briefly examine the
views of some of Arnold's contemporaries who made use of the Hebraism-
Hellenism distinction for their own purposes.
While Heine is credited with turning the opposition between Hellene
and Hebrew into a historical paradigm, he was anticipated, to some de-
gree, by two German authors who dallied with the charms of the pagan
world, Johann Joachim Winckelmann and Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
As an English disciple (who also draws on Arnold), Walter Pater, writes in
the chapter of The Renaissance devoted to Winckelmann, "The aim of our
culture" is the attainment of "not only as intense but as complete a life
as possible." Thus, Pater, following Arnold, celebrates the idea of Bildung,
the German concept of self-development devised by Goethe and Johann
Gottfried von Herder by way of Platonic sources. In the contrasting figure
of Girolamo Savonarola (self-denying, Hebraic), Pater points to another, if
less attractive, Renaissance "type of success" (1986 [1873]: 121). Like Heine
and Arnold, Pater describes the Renaissance in terms of a contest between
revitalized Hebraic and Hellenic forces. Unlike his predecessors, however,
Pater saw the efforts of a Pico della Mirandola "to reconcile Christianity
with the religion of ancient Greece" (ibid.: 20) as a doomed undertaking.
Heine, by contrast, had endorsed the pagan (or "sensual") effort "at reha-
bilitating matter and vindicating the rights of the senses without denying
the rights of the spirit or even its supremacy" (1973a [18351: 324). Implicit
in Heine's or Arnold's defense of Hellenism is the view that a position that
supports self-development would also allow for the satisfying of spiritual
needs. "Essential in Hellenism," Arnold declares in Culture and Anarchy, "is
the impulse to the development of the whole man, to connecting and har-
monizing all parts of him, leaving none to take their chance" (1960-77, 5:
184). Such a development was, for Arnold, in society's best interest; and
here we see a divergence between Arnold and Pater. For whereas Helle-
nism for Arnold is an educational means of advancing England, Hellenism
for Pater is purely an individual matter.'
John Stuart Mill, in On Liberty (1859), also distinguishes between
religious (i.e., "Calvinistic") and pagan counterdemands. "'Pagan self-
assertion,"' he contends (quoting John Sterling), "is one of the elements
of human worth, as well as 'Christian self-denial.' There is a Greek
ideal of self-development, which the Platonic and Christian ideal of self-
government blends with, but does not supersede. It may be better to be a
John Knox than an Alcibiades, but it is better to be a Pericles than either;
nor would a Pericles, if we had one in these days, be without anything
good which belonged to John Knox" (1969 [1859]: 409-10). But there was
no guarantee that a Hellenic-minded individual would have respect for,
or be tolerated by, someone of a Hebraic cast of mind. George Eliot, in
Romola (1863), drew a cautionary portrait of a young hedonist, living in
the Florence of Savonarola, who disavows all claims upon him. "I am
no Hebrew," Tito Melema announces upon his entry into the novel (1980
[1863]: 56), and before long he has betrayed everyone close to him.2 Eliot
wrote four admiring essays on Heine in the mid-185os, but she duly noted
Heine's own sardonic admission that in his time of suffering the Greek
gods were of no avail. When Heine collapsed in the Louvre, he imagined
hearing the Venus de Milo say to him, "Dost thou not see, then, that I
have no arms, and thus cannot help thee?" (Eliot 1963: 241-42).
In her most ambitious novel, Middlemarch (1872), Eliot sought to rec-
oncile the Hebraic and Hellenic impulses; or, rather, in the persons of
the overly self-denying Dorothea Brooke and the benignly hedonistic Will
Ladislaw, she shows how each gains from contact with the other. Dorothea
becomes aware of the value of beauty and of her own sensual needs, while
1. On this point see Donoghue 1995: 158. The differing use of Hellenism by Arnold and Pater
is also explored by David DeLaura (1969) and Linda Dowling (1994).
2. Arnold's devotee Henry James also draws on Arnold's distinction between Hebraic- and
Hellenic-minded individuals. The ill-fated sculptor-hero of his first major novel, Roderick
Hudson (1875), loftily asserts, "I'm a Hellenist; I'm not a Hebraist!" (James 1960 [1875]: 88);
but Roderick's lack of self-control proves ruinous to his life and art. (James may also be
thinking of the opposition between pagan and Christian impulses depicted in Hawthorne's
Marble Faun.) The protagonist of "The Author of 'Beltraffio"' describes the difference be-
tween his wife and himself as that between "Christian and pagan. . . She thinks me, at any
rate, no better than an ancient Greek. It's the difference between making the most of life
and making the least" (James 1963 [1884]: 334).
Will learns to apply his scattered energies and talents to a useful vocation.
In Arnold's life and writings, one finds a similar movement at work. A play-
ful, aesthetically minded schoolboy (Merry Matt) changed into a brilliant
elegiac poet, then into an earnest inspector of schools, and finally (without
giving up the inspectorship) into the most discerning social and literary
critic of his generation. In Arnold's development one finds the legacies of
Greece and Israel continually enriching his endeavors and encouraging
him, in turn, to pass on to his readers the values of that double heritage.
In the more than three decades he spent inspecting Dissenter-run
schools, Arnold came face to face with the meager curricula and fates af-
forded the majority of English schoolchildren.3 Preparing A Bible-Reading
for Schools (1872), Arnold explained to a friend, "Into the education of the
people there comes, with us at any rate, absolutely nothing grand" (1895,
2:99). For Arnold, to be sure, the Bible was to be appreciated as literature,
not dogma. ("More and more," he wrote in "The Study of Poetry," in 1880,
"mankind will discover that we have to turn to poetry to interpret life for
us, to console us, to sustain us" [1960-77, 9:161].) Of the power of a literary
text such as the Book of Isaiah, Arnold marveled, "What an extending of
[its readers'] horizons, what a lifting them out of the present, what a sug-
gestion of hope and courage!" (1960-77, 7:71-72). But the English lacked
more than an appreciation of good literature. They also lacked, Arnold
felt, the ability to see where they as a nation were heading, and they were
unwilling to profit from the wisdom of other nations. They lacked, in short,
an objective awareness of their Hebraic background (its negative and posi-
tive qualities), and they desperately needed a Hellenic perspective.
A typical, mistaken criticism made by Arnold's more religious-minded
contemporaries was that (as a reviewer of Arnold's St. Paul and Protestantism
complained) in his "culture, perhaps in his nature, the Hellenic element is
too exclusive; the Hebraic has scarcely any place" (cited in Dawson and
Pfordresher 1979: 262). Arnold admitted to his mother that he gave more
"prominence" to Hellenism than his father, Dr. Thomas Arnold, would
have conceded (1895, 1:455). But, he added, modern times and modern
needs demand this new balance. It is useful to look back to Greece, he
argued in his inaugural lecture as professor of poetry at Oxford (1857, pub-
lished in 1868 as "On the Modern Element in Literature"), if England is
3. As Park Honan writes, during his school inspections Arnold "found that religious schism
and the pride of middle-class Dissenters and their animosity to the state all meant the
poor would suffer" (Honan 1981: 253). Fred G. Walcott studies Arnold's educational back-
ground in The Origins of Culture and Anarchy (1970); Peter Smith and Geoffrey Summerfield
have assembled a selection of Arnold's writings on education, including his inspection re-
ports (1969).
.. the first of virtues" (1960-77, 2:29), and it also reinforced his sense that
there could be no intellectual deliverance in an England where the mass
of the population was ignored. In France, Arnold duly noted, nearly six
times as many students as in England attended secondary schools (1960-
77, 8:359). As a result, the French had a better sense of "social solidity"
(361) and of the possibilities of life: "Life is so good and agreeable a thing
there, and for so many" (362). The apostles of culture, Arnold repeatedly
says, are believers in solidarity and political equality. That a nation needs
high standards Arnold takes for granted. What it doesn't need are fanat-
ics or dogmatists or theorists blocking our ability to see things in their rich
variety. In his inspection tours of European schools, Arnold discerned a
more intellectually liberating climate- one in which the spirit of Bildung
was at work. In "A French Eton" (his account of a school run by Jean Bat-
tiste Henri Lacordaire), Arnold cites Wilhelm von Humboldt's view "that
it was a joy to him to feel himself modified by the operation of a foreign
influence" (1960-77, 2:312). The essence of Bildung ("perhaps the greatest
idea of the eighteenth century," Gadamer calls it [1991:9], noting also its
genesis in the Greek educational ideal), of the cultivation of the self, is that
we enrich ourselves by going out of the self, discovering other cultures,
learning to "become at home" in the other, as Gadamer (and, before him,
Hegel) puts it (Gadamer 1991: 14). Widening our perspectives, we become
so familiar with the enormous range of human achievement that we learn
(in Nietzsche's phrase, taken in turn from Pindar) to become what we are.
But while France and Germany were providing an education for their
citizens that prepared them for the future, instructing them in scientific
as well as literary subjects, England was lagging behind-in large mea-
sure, Arnold felt, because of its resistance to state-supported enterprises.
(Arnold's fellow liberal, Mill, opposed the idea of state-run schools in On
Liberty.) And England's individualistic habits-its refrain of "Leave us to
ourselves!" (1960-77, 2:21)-was abetted by a Protestant cast of mind that
served to thwart (as Arnold lamented in a note to William Gladstone ac-
companying a copy of Culture and Anarchy) a sense of "larger existence and
more sense of public responsibility" (1960-77, 6:417). The English middle
class, Arnold complains in Friendship's Garland, are enemies of Bildung, ene-
mies of enlightenment; they are modern-day versions of the biblical Phi-
listines.
This does not mean, however, that Arnold undervalued the Hebraic
impulse. Ideally, "culture" (the work of Hellenism) and "character" (the
work of Hebraism) are interdependent. "Culture without character is, no
doubt, something frivolous, vain, and weak," he concedes in "Democracy"
(the great essay that originally served to introduce his survey The Popular
Education of France [1861]); "but character without culture is, on the other
hand, something raw, blind, and dangerous. The most interesting, the most
truly glorious peoples, are those in which the alliance of the two has been
effected most successfully, and its result spread most widely. This is why
the spectacle of ancient Athens has such profound interest for a rational
man; that it is the spectacle of the culture of a people" (1960-77, 2:24-25).
With help from the state (not an authoritarian state but one that represents
our collective "best selves"), Arnold felt the English, "more than any mod-
ern people, have the power of renewing, in our national life, the example
of Greece" (ibid.: 314).4
The road to Greece, however, required a detour through modern
France. Like Heine, Arnold felt that Paris was the successor to Athens.
It was to Paris that Heine had emigrated because he deemed the French
more accessible "to ideas than any other people" (1960-77, 3:112). Thomas
Carlyle, in The French Revolution, had warned of the danger to any people
calling itself the "Athens of Europe" (Carlyle 1989 [1837], 1: lo); but Arnold
welcomed the legacy of the revolution and praised one of its prophets,
Voltaire, for his ability to look "at things straight," with "marvelous logic
and lucidity" (1960-77, 8:363). Midcentury France boasted a culture of
criticism: in her journals appeared the work of Heine, Charles-Augustin
Sainte-Beuve, Hippolyte-Adolphe Taine, Charles Baudelaire. It was here
that Arnold encountered Heine's Hebraism-Hellenism distinction, and it
was from Ernest Renan's Essaies de morale et de critique (1859) that he found
the literary form in which to promulgate these values: the critical essay.
Renan was a critic concerned with the pressing social problems of the day.
(A former seminarian, Renan was also the author of perhaps the most
influential of revisionary histories of Christianity.) But whereas Renan
tended (as Arnold explained to his sister) "to inculcate morality, in a high
sense of the word, upon the French nation as what they most want, . . .
I tend to inculcate intelligence, also in a high sense of the word, upon the
English nation as what they most want" (1895, 1:129).5 Just as the modern
Athens needed a dose of Hebraism, so too did modern England require a
dose of Hellenism added to its customary diet of Hebraism.
In truth, Arnold's Essays in Criticism (a collection inspired by Renan's
Essaies) inculcates Hebraic as well as Hellenic values (see apRoberts 1983:
133). Arnold's Essays of 1865 (followed by a second series in 1888) con-
4. I have compared Arnold's views on Greece, education, culture, and religion with those
of Nietzsche (Stone 1988), noting how both men felt that Hellenic values were in need of
revival.
5. I discuss the influence of Renan (and other French critics) on Arnold in my Communica-
tions with the Future (1997), chapter 2.
6. Joseph Carroll (1982: 245-46) has compared Heine's tendency to play the Hellenic pole
off against the Hebrew pole in a spirit of mockery ("The defects of each pole tend to be
played off against the other and produce the ironic tonal reverberation that Arnold rebukes
as 'incessant mocking' ") with Arnold's tendency to present each side in a creditable light:
"he restricts the use of irony to ridiculing the opponents of both his Gods, the Hebraic and
the Hellenic."
from "the old, traditional, conventional point of view and [placed] under
a new one" (279). In all of this, Arnold is announcing his own program in
Culture and Anarchy and in his books on religion written in the 187os.
Although Culture and Anarchy is Arnold's best-known work, its creation
was both inevitable and incidental. The decade of the 186os was a busy
time for him. In 1865 he made an official inspection tour of state-supported
schools on the Continent. ("Sooner or later we shall all learn, even we
English people," he wrote to the Pall Mall Gazette in that year, "that there
is an appointed sphere for public function as well as for private" [1960-77,
4:11]). In 1866 he completed a series of Oxford lectures, published as On
the Study of Celtic Literature, daring in their insistence that the English have
much to learn from their non-Anglo-Saxon neighbors. In early 1866 he
published a rejoinder to Fitzjames Stephen's attack on "The Function of
Criticism" in the form of a Heine-inspired comic diatribe, "My Country-
men." Collected with the follow-up Friendship's Garland papers, Arnold's
essay is a fictionalized conversation between himself and a German visi-
tor to England, Arminius, who assaults the British lack of intelligence
("Geist"), its low standard of culture, its narrow-minded religion. (Heine
himself, visiting England in 1827, had felt "convinced that a swearing
Frenchman is a pleasanter sight for the Godhead than a praying English-
man" [Sammons 1979: 131].) In 1867, once again at Oxford, Arnold gave
a final lecture there on the topic "Culture and Its Enemies." In it all the
various Arnoldian concerns-England's resistance to change even as the
world was changing, its traditional dislike of state-supported enterprises,
its social inequalities, its clinging to an outmoded religion-came together
in what was to prove the opening chapter of Culture and Anarchy.
Contrary to the misguided notion in some academic quarters that the
book is a defense of elitist values (a promotion of "culture" as a way
of numbing the energies of a rising democracy), Arnold's book is one
of the great Victorian tributes to democracy and its inevitable triumph.
In the early essay "Democracy," he had written about the current efforts
of the working class to "affirm its own essence; to live, to enjoy, to possess
the world, as aristocracy" had done earlier and as the middle class was
now doing. But, he cautioned, with an eye on America, "the difficulty for
democracy is, how to find and keep high ideals" (1960-77, 2:7, 17, empha-
sis in original). Arnold was scarcely being elitist when he proclaimed that
democracy has a right to all that makes life worth preserving-from access
to knowledge and things of beauty to access to better health care. ("A good
thing meant for the many cannot well be so exquisite as the good things of
the few; but it can easily, if it comes from a donor of great resources and
wide power, be incomparably better than what the many could, unaided,
provide for themselves" [ibid.: 21].) The enemies of culture, thus, are the
enemies of democracy. In ancient Greece, he notes, there was also once a
triumphant democracy, a culture of the people, for whom things of beauty
and the love of knowledge ("sweetness and light") were cultivated. From
the Greek pursuit of "perfection" came the belief in culture as a process, a
means of endless growth and development requiring "harmonious expan-
sion of all the powers which make the beauty and worth of human nature,
and [which] is not consistent with the over-development of any one power
at the expense of the rest" (1960-77, 5:94).
The political situation of the mid-186os may have provided some of the
immediate background of Culture and Anarchy -the agitation preceding the
Second Reform Bill of 1867, for example. But Arnold's disenchantment
with English stolidity was of long standing. In writing the book, Arnold
aired his grievance at the major obstacle lying in the way of true re-
form: the alliance between political liberals and middle-class Protestants
that thwarted efforts at improved education for the masses in the name of
laissez-faire ("Doing as One Likes")7 and opposed efforts at solidarity or
any breakup of the English class system. In the chapters preceding the one
devoted to Hebraism and Hellenism (Arnold did not add the descriptive
chapter titles until the second edition, in 1875), Arnold urges that England
"rise above the idea of class to the idea of the whole community, the State,"
an ideal state embodying not our warring individuals but rather our "best
self" (1960-77, 5:134, emphasis in original). By Arnold's ideal Ilissus, there
were also no barbarians, philistines, or populace engaged in a Hobbesian
(and Industrial Revolutionary) war of each against all.
Another popular misconception of Culture and Anarchy is that Arnold, in
his comparison of the forces of Hebraism and Hellenism, is divorcing the
realm of action (Hebraic "conduct") from the realm of thought.8 But for
Arnold, the Liberals and Protestants were themselves acting unaided by
the powers of thought; hence, their version of "reform" was a mechani-
7. Arnold singled out Mill and Edward Miall (editor of the leading Dissenting journal,
the Nonconformist) as partners here, despite their memberships in the Hellenic and Hebraic
camps, respectively, because of their mutual mistrust for state-run enterprises.
8. In Human Nature and Conduct, John Dewey insists that there is no demarcation between
thinking and doing: "Potentially conduct is one hundred percent of our acts" (1922: 279).
Arnold would agree with Dewey on this point -especially his use of the word "potentially."
In A Common Faith, Dewey further charges that "Arnold's sense of an opposition between
Hellenism and Hebraism resulted in exclusion of beauty, truth, and friendship from the list
of the consequences toward which powers work within and without" (1934: 54). Arnold, on
the contrary, hoped to mend that breach. Elsewhere, Dewey shows himself to be Arnold's
disciple in his view, as educator, that a democracy must offer the fullest cultural possibili-
ties to its citizens. (See chapter 5, "Arnold and the Pragmatists: Culture as Democracy," in
Stone 1997.)
turned on its spirit there for two hundred years" (1960-77, 3:121). England,
to its intellectual cost, repudiated Hellenism at the time when it was most
needful, and it continues to do so: "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
English instead] have made the secondary [stream] the principal at the
wrong moment" (1960-77, 5:175).
Arnold was by no means denying the value of Hebraism. For the rest
of his life he would insist that the Hebraic stress on righteous conduct
constitutes three-quarters of our needful energies. But given the immense
problems faced by England, he insists that "now, and for us, it is a time to
Hellenise, and to praise knowing; for we have Hebraised too much, and
have over-valued doing." ("The habits and discipline received from He-
braism," he adds, are an "eternal possession" that we cannot assign "to
the second rank to-day, without being prepared to restore to them the
first rank to-morrow" [ibid.: 255].) Meanwhile, let us "Hellenise a little,"
he urges (ibid.: 199); and, accordingly, Arnold looks to areas of concern
where lucidity of vision is called for: to England's abominable treatment of
Ireland, for example; to the prevalence of "grotesque and hideous forms
of popular religion" (204); to the slums of East London, whose "ever-
accumulating masses of pauperism" are ignored by a religion that piously
speaks of the poor always being with us (216-17). It is from such excesses of
the Hebraic cast of mind that one must turn away, realizing all the while
"that the human spirit is wider than the most priceless of the forces which
bear it onward, and that to the whole development of man Hebraism itself
is, like Hellenism, but a contribution" (171).
In the decade following Culture and Anarchy Arnold turned his attention
to a series of religious books. This has occasioned some scholars to view
the 187os as a time of "regression" for Arnold, a time in which he aban-
doned Hellenism for Hebraism. It is claimed that this change of attitude
was brought on in part by the deaths of three of his children and by the
outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War (see Carroll 1982:109). Yet Arnold
began to ponder the weaknesses of Hellenism as early as 1868, in a review
of Ernst Curtius's History of Greece. Greece's freedom of intellectual inquiry,
when cut adrift from its ancient religion (he argues), proved fatal in the
end. "The power to respect, the power to obey, are at least as needful for
man as unlimited freedom and the practical school of public life" (1960-
77, 5:283). And Arnold now praises Socrates, who, though "assuredly ...
no mere conservative [he had, after all, "introduced a stream of thought
so fresh, bold, and transforming that it frightened 'respectable' people and
was the cause of his death"], . . . was never weary of recalling the Hellenic
legacy of Hellenism, and the legacy of both combined, which ideally con-
stitutes the humanities, dared not be disregarded.
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