f his hand were Jovelike.... Sometimes at public
dinners, when he saw himself surrounded by his contemporaries, most of
them judges, bishops, and ministers, he would groan over the drudgery
he had to go through every day of his life in examining dirty
school-boys and school-girls. But he saw the fun of it, and laughed.
What a pity it was that his friends--and he had many--could find no
better place for him. Most of his contemporaries rose to high position
in Church and State, he remained to the end an examiner of elementary
schools. Of course it may be said that like so many of his literary
friends, he might have written novels and thus eked out a living by
potboilers of various kinds. But there was something nobler and
refined in him which restrained his pen from such work. Whatever he
gave to the world was to be perfect, as perfect as he could make it,
and he did not think that he possessed the talent for novels. His
saying that "no Arnold can ever write a novel" is well known, but it
has been splendidly falsified of late by his own niece. Arnold was a
delightful man to argue with, not that he could easily be convinced
that he was wrong, but he never lost his temper, and in the most
patronizing way he would generally end by, "Yes, yes! my good fellow,
you are quite right, but, you see, my view of the matter is different,
and I have little doubt it is the true one!" This went so far that
even the simplest facts failed to produce any impression on him....

Ruskin often came to spend a few days with his old friends, and as
uncompromising and severe as he could be when he wielded his pen, he
was always most charming in conversation. He never, when he was with
his friends, claimed the right of speaking with authority, even on his
own special subjects, as he might well have done. It seemed to be his
pen that made him say bitter things.... He was really the most
tolerant and agreeable man in society. He could discover beauty where
no one else saw it, and make allowance where others saw no excuse. I
remember him as diffident as a young girl, full of questions, and
grateful for any information. Even on art topics I have watched him
listening almost deferentially to others who laid down the law in his
presence. His voice was always most winning, and his language simply
perfect. He was one of the few Englishmen I knew who, instead of
tumbling out their sentences like so many portmanteaus, bags, tugs,
and hat-boxes from an open r