Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Matthew Arnold

by Matthew Arnold

  The little book has often been reprinted; but as “A Bible Reading for Schools” it failed, as, to judge by his own melancholy words about it, he seems to have foreseen that it would fail. People who have charge of Elementary Education in England, whether in Church Schools or in Board Schools, are eminently and rightly suspicious about new views in religion; and The Great Prophecy of Israel’s Restoration gave currency to a view which in 1872 was probably new to most School Managers and School Boards. He carefully disclaimed any intention to decide the authorship of the chapters which he edited. But the fact that they were detached from the earlier ones might perhaps raise questions in enquiring minds; and in the preface he stated his personal belief that “the author of the earlier part of the Book of Isaiah was not the author of these last chapters.” He most truly added that “there is nothing to forbid a member of the Church of England, or, for that matter, a member of the Church of Rome either, or a member of the Jewish Synagogue, from holding such a belief”; but probably clergymen and Dissenting ministers and pious laymen of all denominations looked rather askance at it; and the little book never got itself adopted as “A Bible Reading for Schools.”

  Thus ended his one attempt to improve, positively and by construction, the curriculum of the Elementary Schools; and we return, at the end of this study of his Educational doctrine, to the point at which we began.

  “Organize your Elementary, your Secondary, your Superior, Education.” This was the burden of his teaching for five-and-thirty years; and, if the community has at length really set its hand to that great task, it is only right that we should remember with honour the Master who first taught us (when the doctrine was unpopular) that the primary duty of a civilized State is to educate its children.

  * * *

  CHAPTER IV. SOCIETY

  “Culture seeks to do away with classes and sects; to make the best that has been thought and known in the world current everywhere; to make all men live in an atmosphere of sweetness and light, where they may use ideas, as it uses them itself, freely; nourished, and not bound, by them. This is the social idea; and the men of culture are the true apostles of equality.”

  The words — social idea — which Arnold himself italicized in the foregoing extract from Culture and Anarchy, will indicate the sense in which “Society” is here intended. We are not thinking of that which Pennialinus means when he writes about “Society gossip” or “a Society function.” We are concerned with the thoughts and temper and actions of men, not as isolated units, but as living in an organized community; and, taking “Society” in this sense, we are to examine Arnold’s influence on the Society of his time.

  Front of Balliol College, Oxford, in Arnold’s Time

  In 1840 Matthew Arnold won an open scholarship at Balliol and went into residence in 1841

  Photo H.W. Taunt

  Certainly the most obvious and palpable way of affecting Society — and to many Englishmen the only conceivable way — is by the method of Politics; by the definite and positive action of human law, and by such endeavours as we can make towards shaping that action. Now, if indeed the Political method were the only one, there could be little to be said about his effect on Society. Politics, in the limited and conventional sense just now suggested, were not much in his line. He was interested in them; he had opinions about them; he occasionally intervened in them. But he made no mark on the political work of his time; nor, so far as one can judge, did he aspire to do so. Of the man of letters in the field of politics, he said: “He is in truth not on his own ground there, and is in peculiar danger of talking at random.” In politics, as in all else that he touched, he was critical rather than constructive; and in politics, “immersed,” as Bacon said, “in matter,” a man must be constructive, if his influence is to be felt and to endure. “Politicians,” he said in 1880, “we all of us here in England are and must be, and I too cannot help being a politician; but a politician of that commonwealth of which the pattern, as the philosopher says, exists perhaps somewhere in Heaven, but certainly is at present found nowhere on earth.” In 1887, describing himself as “an aged outsider,” he thus stated his own attitude towards political problems —

  “The professional politicians are always apt to be impatient of the intervention in politics of a candid outsider, and he must expect to provoke contempt and resentment in a good many of them. Still the action of the regular politicians continues to be, for the most part, so very far from successful, that the outsider is perpetually tempted to brave their anger and to offer his observations, with the hope of possibly doing some little good by saying what many quiet people are thinking and wishing outside of the strife, phrases, and routine of professional politics.”

  From first to last, he professed himself, and no doubt believed himself, to be on the Liberal side. At the General Election of 1868 he urbanely informed a Tory Committee, which asked for the advantage of his name, that he was “an old Whig,” nurtured in the traditions of Lansdowne House. “Although,” he said in 1869, “I am a Liberal, yet I am a Liberal tempered by experience, reflection, and renouncement.” In 1878 he described himself as a “sincere but ineffectual Liberal”: in 1880, as “a Liberal of the future rather than a Liberal of the present.” A year later, he spoke smilingly of “all good Liberals, of whom I wish to be considered one”; and as late as 1887 he declared himself “one of the Liberals of the future, who happen to be grown, alas! rather old.”

  But, though he believed himself to be a Liberal, he had the most lively disrelish for the Liberalism of that great Middle Class which, during the greater part of his life, played so large a part in Liberal politics. In 1882, reviewing, in his favourite manner, the various classes of English Society, and discussing their adequacy to fulfil the ideal of perfect citizenship, he wrote —

  “Suppose we take that figure we know so well, the earnest and non-conforming Liberal of our Middle Classes, as his schools and his civilization have made him. He is for Disestablishment; he is for Temperance; he has an eye to his Wife’s Sister; he is a member of his local caucus; he is learning to go up to Birmingham every year to the feast of Mr. Chamberlain. His inadequacy is but too visible.”

  Certainly Arnold’s Liberalism had nothing in common with the Liberalism of the great Middle Class. Indeed, so far as theory is concerned, it had a democratic basis, inasmuch as he believed that democracy was a product of natural law, and that our business was to adapt our political and social institutions to it. “Democracy,” he said, “is trying to affirm its own essence: to live, to enjoy, to possess the world, as aristocracy has tried, and successfully tried, before it.”

  The movement of Democracy he regarded as being an “operation of nature,” and, like other operations of nature, it was neither to be praised nor blamed. He was neither a “partisan” of it, nor an “enemy.” His only care was, if he could, to guide it aright, and to secure that it used its predominant power in human affairs at least as wisely as the aristocracy which had preceded it. Of aristocratic rule in foreign countries — of such rule as preceded the French Revolution — he thought as poorly as most men think; but for the aristocracy of England he had a singular esteem. It is true that he gave it a nickname; that he poked fun at its illiteracy and its inaccessibility to ideas; that he was impatient of “immense inequalities of condition and property,” and huge estates, and irresponsible landlordism; that he contemned the “hideous English toadyism” and “immense vulgar-mindedness” of the Middle Class when confronted with “lords and great people.”

  But, for all that, he wrote about the English Aristocracy, as it stood in 1859: “I desire to speak of it with the most unbounded respect. It is the most popular of aristocracies; it has avoided faults which have ruined other aristocracies equally splendid. While the aristocracy of France was destroying its estates by its extravagance, and itself by its impertinence, the aristocracy of England was founding English agriculture, and commanding respect by a personal dignity which made even its pride forgiven. Historical and poli
tical England, the England of which we are all so proud, is of its making.”

  In spite, however, of this high estimate of what Aristocracy had accomplished in the past, he felt that power was slipping away from it, and was passing into the hands of the Multitude. But he also felt — and it was certainly one of his most profound convictions — that the Multitude could never govern properly, could never regulate its own affairs, could never present England adequately to the view of the world, unless it cast aside the Individualism in which it had been nurtured, and made up its mind to act in and through the State. Perhaps his ideal of a State can best be described as an Educated Democracy, working by Collectivism in Government, Religion, and Social order.

  “If experience has established any one thing in this world, it has established this: that it is well for any great class or description of men in society to be able to say for itself what it wants, and not to have other classes, the so-called educated and intelligent classes, acting for it as its proctors, and supposed to understand its wants and to provide for them. They do not really understand its wants, they do not really provide for them. A class of men may often itself not either fully understand its own wants, or adequately express them; but it has a nearer interest and a more sure diligence in the matter than any of its proctors, and therefore a better chance of success.” Amid many fluctuations of opinion on minor points, he was, from first to last, a thoroughgoing advocate for extending the action of the State. In his ideal of government, the State was to play in a democratic age the part which the Aristocracy had played in earlier ages — it was to govern and administer and control and inspire. And, it was, in one important respect, a far nobler thing than the best aristocracy could ever be, for it was the “representative acting-power of the nation”; and so the relation of the citizen to the State was a much more dignified relation than that of a citizen to an aristocracy could ever be. “Is it that of a dependant to a parental benefactor? By no means: it is that of a member in a partnership to the whole firm.” The citizens of a State, the members of a society, are really “‘a partnership,’ as Burke nobly says, ‘in all science, in all art, in every virtue, in all perfection.’ Towards this great final design of their connexion, they apply the aids which co-operative association can give them.” We turn now to the practical application of this doctrine.

  We have seen in the previous chapter how earnestly and consistently throughout his working life he urged the State to take into its control, and so far as was needed to subsidize, the Education of the whole nation. “How vain, how meaningless,” he cried, “to tell a man who, for the instruction of his offspring, receives aid from the State, that he is humiliated! Humiliated by receiving help for himself as an individual from himself in his corporate and associated capacity! help to which his own money, as a tax-payer, contributes, and for which, as a result of the joint energy and intelligence of the whole community in employing as powers, he himself deserves some of the praise!... He is no more humiliated than when he crosses London Bridge or walks down the King’s Road, or visits the British Museum. But it is one of the extraordinary inconsistencies of some English people in this matter, that they keep all their cry of humiliation and degradation for help which the State offers.” We shall see in a subsequent chapter that he was as strong for Established Churches as for State-regulated Schools, and for the same reason. In Religion, as in Education, he disparaged private institutions and individual ventures. The State, “the nation in its corporate and collective capacity,” ought to transcend the individual citizen: it should supply him, to help him as one of its units to supply himself, with the thing which he wanted — Education or Religion — in the grand style, on a large scale, with all the authority which comes from national recognition, with all the dignity of a historical descent.

  Arnold’s appeal for State-supplied and State-controlled Education has, as we have already seen, met with some practical response, and in the main falls in with the modern drift of Liberal ideas. In upholding State-supported and State-controlled Religion, he was rather continuing an old tradition than starting a new idea, and modern Liberalism is moving away from him.

  But in some important respects, all strictly political, his advocacy of extended action by the State fell in with the Liberal movement of his time. The hideous misgovernment of Ireland he had always deplored. It touched him long before it touched the great majority of Englishmen. With a view to informing people on the Irish question, he compiled a book of Burke’s most telling utterances on Ireland and her woes. Those utterances, as he said, “Show at work all the causes which have brought Ireland to its present state — the tyranny of the grantees of confiscation; of the English garrison; Protestant ascendancy; the reliance of the English Government upon this ascendancy and its instruments as their means of government; the yielding to menaces of danger and insurrection what was never yielded to considerations of equity and reason; the recurrence to the old perversity of mismanagement as soon as ever the danger was passed.” To all these evils he would have applied the remedies which Burke suggested. He would have had the State endow the religions of Ireland and their ministries, supply Ireland with good schools, and defend Irish tenants against the extortions of bad landlords. He was vehemently opposed to Gladstone’s scheme of Home Rule, because, in his view, it tended to disintegration where he specially desired cohesion: but, in the tumults of 1885-8, he never lost his head, never forgot his old sympathy with Irish wrongs, never “drew up an indictment against a whole people.” All through these stormy years, he stood firm for an effective system of Local Government in Ireland. Irish government, he said, had “been conducted in accordance with the wishes of the minority, and of the British Philistine.” He desired a system which should accord with the wishes of the majority. He deprecated Forster’s “expression of general objection to Home Rule”; because, though Home Rule as understood by Parnell was intolerable, there was another kind of Home Rule which was possible and even desirable. He was keenly anxious that his friends, the Liberal Unionists, should not let the opportunity slip, but should bring forward a “counter scheme to Gladstone’s,” giving real powers of local government. In 1887 he again insisted that the “opinion of quiet reasonable people throughout the country” was bent on giving the Irish the due control of their own local affairs. He pleaded for a system “built on sufficiently large lines, not too complicated, not fantastic, not hesitating and suspicious, not taking back with one hand what it gives with the other.” A similar system he wished to see extended to England, and he pointed out that it admirably facilitated that national control of Secondary Education for which he was always pleading.

  Then again, with reference to Irish land, his belief in the action of the State displayed itself very clearly. In his opinion the remedy for agrarian trouble in Ireland was that the State should, after rigid and impartial enquiry, distinguish between good landlords and bad, and then expropriate the bad ones. This, he thought, would “give the sort of equity, the sort of moral satisfaction, which the case needed.” Once again he was in harmony with Liberal opinion, when he desired to widen the basis of the State by extending the suffrage in turn to the Artisans and the Labourers. In one respect at least he was in harmony rather with Collectivist Radicalism than with orthodox Liberalism, for he did not in the least dread the intervention of the State between employer and employed. He desired to strengthen Parliament, the supreme organ of the national will, by reforming the House of Lords; though he strongly dissented from a scheme of reform just then in vogue. “One can hardly imagine sensible men planning a Second Chamber which should not include the Archbishop of Canterbury, or which should include the young gentlemen who flock to the House of Lords when pigeon-shooting is in question. But our precious Liberal Reformers are for retaining the pigeon-shooters and for expelling the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

  Even in the full flood of Liberal victory which followed the General Election of 1880, he saw what was coming. “What strikes one is the insecureness of the Libe
rals’ hold upon office and upon public favour; the probability of the return, perhaps even more than once, of their adversaries to office, before that final and happy consummation is reached — the permanent establishment of Liberalism in power.” And, while he saw what was coming, he thus divined the cause. The official and commanding part of the Liberal Party was at the best stolidly indifferent to Social Reform; at the worst, viciously angry with the idea and those who propagated it. The commercialism of the great Middle Class had covered the face of England with places like St. Helens, which the capitalists called “great centres of national enterprise,” and Cobbett called “Hell-Holes.” In these places life was lived under conditions of squalid and hideous misery, and the inhabitants were beginning to find out, in the words of one of their own class, that “free political institutions do not guarantee the well-being of the toiling class.” Under these circumstances it was natural that the toilers, having looked for redress to the Liberal Party and looked in vain, should, when next they had the chance, try a spell of that Democratic Toryism which at any rate held out some shadowy hope of social betterment. Arnold’s misgivings about the future of the Liberal Party were abundantly made good by the General Election of 1885; but enough has now been said about his contribution to the practical politics of his time. A much larger space must be given to the influence which he brought to bear on Society by methods not political — by criticism, by banter, by literary felicities, by “sinuous, easy, unpolemical” methods.