he traditional mode of the Church of England, and that was enough
for him. Again, we all know that he described the Athanasian Creed as
"Learned science with a strong dash of temper"; yet I remember him
saying, with an air of stately admiration, after Service on Ascension
Day, "I always like to hear the Athanasian Creed sung. BUT ONE
GOD sounds so magnificently, with that full swell of the organ. It
seems to come with the whole authority of the Church."

Then again the list of his favourite writers on religious subjects shows
exactly the same taste and temper as was shown by his devotional
practices--St. Augustine, that "glorious father of the Catholic Church";
"the nameless author of the _Imitatio_"; Bishop Thomas Wilson, whose
_Maxims_ and _Sacra_ he so constantly quoted; Isaac Barrow, whose
sermons he used to read to his family on Sunday evenings; Cardinal
Newman, to whom he had listened so delightedly in undergraduate
days.[58]

To pass from an account of a man's religious sentiment to that of his
daily life would in too many cases be an abrupt and even a painful
transition; but in the case of Arnold, it is the easiest and most
natural in the world. That which he professed he practised, and, as he
taught, so he lived. From first to last he was true to his own doctrine
that we must cultivate our best self in every department of our being,
and be content with nothing less than our predestined perfection. In his
character and life, "whatsoever things are lovely" were harmoniously
blent.

Before all else he was a worshipper of nature, watching all her
changing aspects with a lover-like assiduity, and never happy in a
long-continued separation from her. Then his manifold culture and fine
taste enabled him to appreciate at its proper value all that is good in
high civilization, and yet the unspoilt naturalness of his character
found a zest in the most commonplace pleasures of daily existence.
Probably Art, whether in music or painting, affected him less than most
men of equal cultivation; but there never lived a human being to whom
Literature and Society--books and people--taking each word in its most
comprehensive sense, yielded a livelier or more constant joy. "Never,"
as Mr. John Morley said, "shall we know again so blithe and friendly a
spirit." As we think of him, the endearing traits come crowding on the
memory--his gracious presence, his joy in fresh air and bodily exercise,
his merry interest in his friends' co