resist him there either,
welcoming back to the severe joys of Church-fellowship, and of daily
worship and prayer, the firstlings of a generation which had well-nigh
forgotten them?"

When we bear in mind this devotion to Oxford, it is not surprising that
he dealt very gently with the defects of English Universities. In 1868
he laid it down that the University ought to provide facilities, after
the general education is finished, for the cultivation of special
aptitudes. "Our great Universities," he said, "Oxford and Cambridge, do
next to nothing towards this end. They are, as Signor Mateucci called
them, _hauts lycees_; and, though invaluable in their way as places
where the youth of the upper class prolong to a very great age, and
under some very valuable influences, their school-education, yet, with
their college and tutor system, nay, with their examination and degree
system, they are still, in fact, _schools_, and do not carry education
beyond the stage of general and school education." This is just in the
spirit of his famous quotation about the Oxford which he loved so well--

There are our young barbarians, all at play!

In 1875 he wrote: "I do not at all like the course for the History
School (at Oxford). Nothing but read, read, read, endless histories in
English, many of them by quite second-rate men; nothing to form the mind
as reading truly great authors forms it, or even to exercise it, as
learning a new language, or mathematics, or one of the natural sciences
exercises it.... The regulation of studies is all-important, and there
is no one to regulate them, and people think that anyone can regulate
them. We shall never do any good till we get a man like Guizot, or W.
von Humboldt to deal with the matter, men who have the highest mental
training themselves, and this we shall probably in this country never
get."

In the wittiest of all his books, and one of the wisest, _Friendship's
Garland_,[10] he thus summarized the too-usual result of our "grand,
old, fortifying, classical curriculum." To his Prussian friend enquiring
what benefit Lord Lumpington and the Rev. Esau Hittall have derived from
that curriculum, that "course of mental gymnastics," the imaginary
Arnold replied: "Well, during their three years at Oxford, they were so
much occupied with Bullingdon and hunting that there was no great
opportunity to judge. But for my own part, I have always thought that
their both getting their degrees at las