h
in various degrees has come to be generally accepted, certainly owed
nothing to it, and several of the most illustrious Churchmen of this
period were wholly alien to it. Thirlwall and Merivale were
conspicuous examples, but they devoted themselves chiefly to great
works of secular history. Arnold--who was one of the strongest
personal influences of his age, and whose influence was both
perpetuated and widened by Dean Stanley--and Whately, who was one of
the most independent and original thinkers of the nineteenth century,
were strongly antagonistic. In the field of ecclesiastical history it
might have been expected that a school which was at once so scholarly
and so wedded to tradition would have been pre-eminent, but no
ecclesiastical histories which England has produced can, on the whole,
be placed on as high a level as those which were written by the great
Broad Church divine whose name stands at the head of this article.

Milman was, indeed, a man well deserving of commemoration on account
of the works which he produced, yet it is perhaps not too much to say
that to those among whom he lived the man seemed even greater than his
works. For many years he was a central and most popular figure in the
best English literary society, and he reckoned most of the leading
intellects of his day among his friends. He was in an extraordinary
degree many-sided, both in his knowledge and his sympathies. He was an
admirable critic, and the eminent sanity of his judgment, as well as
the eminent kindness of his nature, combined with a great charm both
of manner and of conversation. Few men of his time had more friends,
and were more admired, consulted, and loved.

Mr. Arthur Milman has sketched his father's life in one short
volume,[48] written in excellent English and with uniformly good
taste. We have read it with much interest, yet in laying it down it is
impossible not to be sensible how much of the personal charm which was
so conspicuous in its subject has passed beyond recovery. More than
thirty years have gone by since the old Dean was laid in his grave,
and but few of those who knew him intimately survive. He appears to
have kept no journal. He wrote nothing autobiographical, and he had a
strong sense of the chasm that should separate private from public
life. It was wholly contrary to his unegotistical nature to make the
great public the confidant of his domestic affairs or of his inner
feelings, and he was deeply sensib